Boobs are totally awesome. Round ones, pointy ones, big ones, small ones, ones with pink puffy nipples, ones topped of with coin-sized chocolate peaks. Whether they be silken and ebony, tan and oiled, blushing crimson with passion, translucent porcelein with soft blue veins, they're all what we in the scientific community call "totally fucking sweet." I have a few female friends and they range from "cute" to "my penix just asploded with joy." They're all platonic friends, and to be honest I don't really have any interest in putting my doodle in their fannies. However, still being possessed of base animal urges I do still have a desire to see their boobs, which I am sure are totally radical, perhaps in bodacious. I can't blackmail these wonderful young ladies into showing me their fantabulous funbags, as they know far more embarrassing secrets about me than I know about them. I can't simply pay them - these are classy dames, not two-bit streetwalkers. I can't ply them with alcohol, 'cause these girls could make Winston Churchill look like a prohibitionist school-marm. My only hope now lay with you, dear reader. Peer pressure is the greatest motivator for stupid choices among women under thirty. Reach deep into your hearts and find the courage to help my weary eyes rest upon these women's dirty pillows.