“My small bust kept me nearly flat-chested until early-twenties. Post that, my breasts grew slightly to graduate beyond looking like “mosquito bites”. But, before that could happen, I also grew hair on torso, including dense-texture hair around tits and on the cleavage area; plus ever-ready-to stand-out tits.
Padded bras were unaffordable and, also, immoral and deceptive, in my (then) opinion. So, I’d place cotton blobs over my nipples inside the bra and always carry a scarf or stole — even over T-shirts and shirts — to hide my headlights.
The first time I was naked with a man, he neither looked at nor touched my boobies. Two years later, I gathered strength to be naked with another man. I occasionally remove hair from chest but deliberately didn’t do so for that date.
He stared in disbelief at my hairy boobs while also commenting on the hair-growth (even though he had a 30x thicker mat of hair on his own chest).
Wasn’t great for my confidence. I’m nearing thirty. In all this time, only one man, who I was in a long-distance, sexting-relationship with, could wholly appreciate the uniqueness of my boobs. He thought them “perfectly sized to be a handful with the naughtiest, can’t-keep-calm, perky titties”. My boobs have had little outside validation. Despite that, they turn me on intensely.
Now, as an adult who earns a comfortable income, I cup my boobies and rogue titties in a colourful collection of lightly padded bras.
Hoping I’d also be able to open myself this way for romantic and sexual
partners, with the nakedness of my healthy boobies as they are — my size, hairy, hard-tittied.”
They wanted to be drawn with lots of eyes.