Heaven's Pillows

To follow up Ken's brilliant treatise on the personification of the phallus, I thought I'd discuss the topic of naming boobs. When a guy starts coming up with pet names for my mammary glands it doesn't really bother me. I find it mildly amusing to see a grown man dissolve into his three-year old self before my eyes as he unbuttons my blouse and starts giggling and clapping excitedly, shouting "boobies! boobies!". Besides, I understand it's not really about me, it's about them finally getting back in touch with their first love before life and cruel rubber pacifiers got in the way. So g'ahead, call them boobies, titties, the girls, the twins, those lovely ladies who graciously offer you a place to rest your head. But if you show any disrespect to the magnificent, supple creations that gave you your first meal, you'll be quickly cut off and sent packing back to adulthood.