An Evolution of Self: I am a conundrum

Yes. I, Nadya Dee, am a frigging enigma! I admit it.

Where is all this coming from? you may ask. Well let me explain. Once upon a time, I was a simple little girl horny beyond comprehension and confused about boys, men and that magical organ known as the penis. I spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with these animalistic urges that sporadically attacked my fun parts and fuddled my morals. Co-Ed school made it worse and church only amplified the silent guilt that drives us into sin.

Eventually, my pent up sexual frustration was released, or so I thought. For the first time I was able to express myself sexually in a variety of locations and positions. I felt free. I had found myself a physically satisfactory relationship that required minimal commitment and provided sexual relief on a regular basis. I was content.

Soon after that I started questioning my choices. As a woman, wasn't I supposed to be wanting more? a husband, a family, a stable relationship? I started wondering if I was only to be desired for what I could offer sexually and not for what was "deep within".

Was I just a possession? a toy? a play thing? Thoughts like this can do a lot to your psyche. You may start to doubt your self worth. And for a while I probably did.

I started hoping and dreaming of a man who would love me for who I was on the inside, my mind and my heart. I started searching for my soul-mate. I still maintained 'relations' with my special friends but never allowed it to pass the realm of sexual gratification. It was a hit and run kind of arrangement and I liked it that way.

Still, I yearned for that one person who could speak to my soul. Caressing my heart with their words; a mate for my spirit. But the simultaneity of my physical presence and my spiritual being were at war with each other. Like the proverbial shoulder-inhabiting angel and devil. Secretly, I loved being desired (although at times I showed contempt for random men who expressed their affectations towards my flesh).

In some way, their advances served as confirmation of my desirability. My chest gradually (and quite literally) swelled in the light of their adoration until eventually, this feeling of desire completely extinguished the flame that was in search of my soul mate.

My breasts have now become the holy grail of my sexuality and as such my interactions with men. Their eyes always tend to focus directly upon my mound during any encounter whether casual or not.

So that now, I am incapable of understanding how any male could not desire my loveliness. I mean come on. Any warm-blooded man who sees or comes into contact with these bad girls have no choice but to stand at attention.

Which leads me to the current conundrum that classifies my existence. For the entire time that I've been 'interacting' with the "darker" sex there has always been one consistency: their adulation and adoration of my breasts. I have never met a man whom these breasts have not given some sort of pleasure whether it be visual or otherwise. And of course I am confused by any many who claims otherwise. This of course may be as a result of my hyperactive sexuality, my breast narcissism and of course the fact that I haven't gotten any in a loooooooong ass time.

You see, admiring my breasts is sort of an initiation for men. You meet me, you stare, then we move on from there. It's now accepted and I consider it the norm. I am no longer offended (although I must admit I am at times still creeped out) by men ogling my boobs. It's natural and I've gotten used to it. I have come to terms with being boob-candy. Physical & sexual desire has almost completely obliterated my need to be desired for what's within.

But somewhere deep inside there's a flicker of hope that the man who I am to spend the rest of my life with will not only speak to my heart but also be the biggest fan of my breasts. And I have no intention of settling for any less.

Love my breasts or try yuh bes!