I have never found large nipples especially attractive. My mom recently apologized to me for endowing me with dwarf nipples.
"Your grandma had such lovely large nipples," she wistfully informed me.
"That's okay," I assured her, "I can't imagine tiny boobs and massive nipples would be a good look."
Some days, I wear slutty shirts or hooker dresses. They're not skanky on me, because I have no boobs. If I ever fit into an A cup, they might be scandalous. Some nights, I put the baby to sleep. When he barks, bawls, or bellows, I swing or dance him around.
Last night, I wore a purple shirt with a plunging neckline. The shirt strategically bunched, and I wasn't wearing a bra or tape to cover my nipples. The baby roared. I cradled him against my body, sang to him in my horrendous voice, and spun in circles. After I cooed for four minutes like a goddamn pigeon, he quieted down. I slowly swayed back and forth.
I thought that I could do this, I could have a child. In ten years.
Then the baby's mouth sucked on my nipple. My titty must have peeked out when I was twirling like a circus performer. Before I could react, the dad walked into the room. I faced the door. He looked at my eyes and at his baby attached to my boob. I opened my mouth. He walked out.
He had been looking for his wife.