For a long time, many years, I hated my nipples – most of the time. I thought they were too big, and in my head, I lamented that they never seemed to match up to the perky nipples I imagined every other woman possessed. The only time I enjoyed the sight of my own nipples was when they tightened into crinkly peaks. Even then, I was never satisfied, because the price of beautiful nipples was headlights at the office.
And then I embraced myself as a sexual being. I learned to revel in the desire for pinches and tweaks, clamps and teeth on my nipples. I stopped caring what they looked like and began to care only for how they felt.
Over the past several months, as I’ve become used to seeing nude women (thank you, Tumblr), I am always astonished by the vast array of nipples in the world. I’m not partial to nipples that seem to overtake a breast. Puffy nipples intrigue me – I can’t help but wonder what they feel like. Tight nipples always seem to beg for teeth.
My Daddy has learned how to play my nipples like an instrument. He plucks and presses with the right intensity and speed. Sometimes I cum, sometimes I do not, but I am always a writhing, moaning mess. He can play for what feels like hours, and often, I hang on the edge of orgasm. When he needs my attention or wants me to focus, a long, hard pinch will do the job. When he wants to play, a quick tweak brings me to heel, ready and waiting for his pleasure.
I spent too many years not appreciating my nipples and not having them appreciated by anyone else. No longer. In my world, nipples are center-stage and get top billing. When my nipples are played just right, I sing a beautiful song.
Thank you, Wicked Wednesday, for allowing me the opportunity to appreciate my nipples.