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I’ve always been attracted to men’s chests. Women’s, while occasionally fun, not so much. A nicely developed chest is a sight to behold. And a wonderful thing to hold onto too. Preferably with my tongue. Chests, fortunately, always lead to nipples and nipples are one of my favorite things in the world. There’s no good biological reason for why men have nipples, so I figure the gods put them there to be played with. It’s nice that there are parts of a man’s anatomy whose soul purpose is your pleasure.

I like the way a man’s nipples get hard and erect, a precursor of things to come. It doesn’t matter if it is because it’s cold out, he’s happy to see me, or because I’ve been nibbling on them for the last half hour; watching them tighten up is always a thrill. Feeling them spring erect underneath your tongue is even better. And I’m always thankful that unlike with women’s tits a guy’s nipples and aureole are almost always in ratio to each other.

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Even though men’s nipples are much more attractive – in my opinion – I’ve often wondered why it’s okay for guys to walk around showing off their naked chests while it’s generally not okay for women to do so. I’m not complaining mind you. It’s just one of life’s little inconsistencies that gives you reason to pause. And often gives me reason to paw too. Facebook has a ban against showing nipples if they belong to a woman, but is okay with those riding on a man’s chest. Huh. Maybe I do need to get a Facebook page.

I like men who are men, but have to admit I prefer hairless chests. A chest with more hair on it than I have on my head is generally a deal breaker. Pelts don’t do it for me. But properly trimmed so there is a light dusting of hair is okay. Especially on the right guy. Everyone else needs to shave. Especially those with a few scrawny hairs – which for some odd reason always seem to be a good foot long – that lay in the crook of their chest. You either can grown chest hair or you can’t and if it’s a maybe you should do the right thing and have that puppy waxed.

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A guy’s nipples are also a sign of the skin shade of my second most favorite part of a man’s body. Not that I’m so picky that I really care, but when you are checking some hottie out on the beach and letting your mind run wild, it’s nice to have a definitive clue of which color to use when filling in below the belt. Because basic skin tone can fool you. Especially with SE Asian men. Even Thai guys alone comes in shades of light pink to dusky dark that promises nights of fun regardless of the color of the rainbow at play. But assuming that will be your color of choice where it counts is an iffy proposition.

The darker tones guys almost always have darker toned cocks, but even with them that can mean almost black to purple to cinnamon brown. And those northern guys with pinkish skin can surprise you with how dark they are below the belt. At least until you check out their nipples. Just in case you never noticed. Now who said my blog wasn’t educational?

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I have a supposedly straight friend who told me playing with his nipples does nothing for him. Kinda like pondering the question of why men have nipples in the first place, why straight and self-delusional straight men feel the need to discuss the parts of their bodies gay men are drawn to with said gay men has no good explanation. Unless it is a prelude to them becoming, technically, no longer a straight man. In this case, what he said sounded stranger than his saying it. My nipples are hardwired to my balls. And a bit further north too. It’s a complete circuit. Most guys’ are. And I’ve never meet a man whose nipples wouldn’t rise to the occasion with just a small bit of attention. So I reached over and rubbed the one closest to me for a few seconds. Huh. Maybe it was just that someone playing with his nipples did nothing for him unless that someone was another guy.

I’m not really into kink. Of any form. Not that I’m against some of the strange things guys do in their search for an orgasm, but rather it’s that I’m still exploring all the possibilities offered before you cross that line in the sand; the one that almost always requires additional paraphernalia. There is a whole sub-culture devoted to nipples. And tons of paraphernalia you can buy and collect to enhance the size and length of yours. Most of it looks painful. And I’m not sure that being able to lift a 25 pound weight with your tits is really something you need to be able to do. Or should brag about if you can. Plus, once your nipples get past pencil-eraser size they really ruin the lines of a T-shirt.

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A good twenty years ago I was shopping at my local hardware store, either out of need for some project I was working on or because hardware stores speak to me in the same way toy stores speak to five-year-olds, when a not unattractive guy stopped next to me and began eyeballing the massive display of powertools I’d been salivating over. ‘Not unattractive’ is my designation for a guy who isn’t worth hitting on, but who I’d respond to if he hit on me. He was wearing one of those tank tops with low cut armholes that show almost as much skin as going bare chested would. Fortunately he had a body suitable for that type of garment. And though he only qualified as not unattractive, with that much flesh on display my attention was momentarily diverted from the sawsall I’d been trying to convince myself I needed.

I’m not sure if he was an amateur nipple builder or had just been blessed by the gods, but he had the most incredible nipples I’d ever seen. Or nipple since I could only see one of them but assume they were a matching pair. Erect – so I assume he too was really into powertools – they rose from his chest into a perfectly sized aureola, slightly puckered by the additional blood coursing through it, which in turn gave birth to a nipple, somewhat longer than normal and much more distinct that cried out for the loving application of tongue. And I suddenly understood what women mean when they say some hot guy got them wet. He didn’t hit on me, so I didn’t get to experience his chest any further than that not so brief glance. But I can still picture that nipple today.

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Nipples are a sensitive part of a man’s body. That’s one of the nice things about them. You may have to play with a cock for a few minutes to get it to a state where it has value, but a nipple responds almost immediately. I don’t consider nipple action to be foreplay as much as I do as an integral part of any sexual encounter. Whether it’s mine or his. Most guys are drawn to tits, whether they are gay or straight (the guy, not the nipple). So you seldom have to say, “Suck my nipples.” You do occasionally have to say, “Ouch!”

Because nipple play is the same for breeders as it is for gay men there is a large body of work devoted to how best to apply the right amount of attention to your partner’s tits. Lots of which comes from women. Which is cool because with tits they know what they are talking about. Unlike with sucking cock. I learned my technique – which I have now spent decades perfecting, quite arduously I might add – thanks to Xaviera Hollander, the Happy Hooker, and whoever it was she blew to ghostwrite her books. Her suggestion for novice breeders and gay boys alike was to pick a grape up with your lips, and then roll it around in your mouth without bruising the skin: use a slight bit if pressure, lots of movement, and no teeth. I never tried a grape, the idea alone was instruction enough. I did try a friend’s nipples soon thereafter though. It tasted much better than a grape.

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I think part of my fascination with Thailand is due to my fascination with male tits. In Thailand, they are everywhere. That may also have lots to do with my less than favorable opinion of Pattaya. Because men’s tits are everywhere there too but are far too often those that you do not want to ever see. Or think about. I can understand why a pre-op lady boy who finally has a pair worth showing off enjoys putting those little rose buds on display, but can’t grasp why sexpats who’ve grown a pair triple D cups feel the same way. Even if that is all they have managed to accomplish in their life.

But elsewhere in the kingdom, they are an attraction. Backpackers on Khaosan Road often go shirtless and the straps on their packs keep those puppies nice and hard. Local men are a bit more discrete and tend to keep their chests covered. But also tend to wear tight shirts so there’s always those two little bumps to focus on. And while I’m not sure why monks like to walk around with a nipple exposed, I thank Buddha that they do. At least the young ones.

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Chiang Mai too draws a lot of backpackers and their tits. And being more of a laid back touri area, even non-backpacking guys run around shirtless. Phuket is a cornucopia of male tit, both local and foreign. And almost all of it is exposed for the world to appreciate. There’s also plenty on display for those who like female breasts on their men. Though that is generally more suggestive than shown. Both in amount of flesh and realism thereof. Exposed male tit in Thailand is so ubiquitous it may even out number plastic stools. Just in case you needed proof that there is a god.

The nice thing about Thailand is that there is such a wide variety of male nipples on display. From the bodybuilders whose nipples sit on the tip of massive chests to the almost nonexistent nipples of twinks, from the pastel pinks of Thai-Chinese to the bruised purples of southern boys, there is a nipple for every taste. Or maybe its just that one of my favorite sets of male tits calls Thailand home.

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