Best Tits Of All Time

Best Tits Of All Time
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Actress |
Martha Marcy May Marlene

Elizabeth Chase "Lizzie" Olsen (born February 16, 1989) is an American actress. She is known for her roles in the films Silent House (2011), Liberal Arts (2012), Godzilla (2014), Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), and Captain America: Civil War (2016). For her role in the critically-acclaimed Martha ...

Dakota Blue Richards, was born at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in South Kensington, London but grew up in Brighton with her mother. She is of Prussian heritage on her Grandmother's side, and Irish on her father's. The name Dakota Blue was inspired by her mother's time spent with Native ...

Academy Award-nominated actress Abigail Breslin is one of the most sought-after actors of her generation. Her unique and charismatic talents have contributed to her versatile roles in both comedy and drama. Recently, Breslin headlined the first season of the horror-comedy series, Scream Queens (2015)...

Bryce Dallas Howard was born on March 2, 1981, in Los Angeles, California. She was conceived in Dallas, Texas (the reason for her middle name). Her father, Ron Howard , is a former actor turned Oscar-winning director. Her mother is actress and writer Cheryl Howard (née Alley). Her famous relatives ...

Anna Kendrick was born in Portland, Maine, to Janice (Cooke), an accountant, and William Kendrick, a teacher. She has an older brother, Michael Cooke Kendrick , who has also acted. She is of English, Irish, and Scottish descent. For her role as "Dinah" in "High Society" on Broadway, Anna Kendrick was...

Lyndsy Marie Fonseca was born in Oakland, California, and was raised first in Alameda and then Moraga, California. Lyndsy competed in the International Modeling & Talent Association, where she was recognized as the second runner-up for "Young Miss Dancer of the Year" and was the first runner-up for...

Alexandra Anna Daddario was born on March 16, 1986 in New York City, New York, to Christina, a lawyer, and Richard Daddario, a prosecutor. Her brother is actor Matthew Daddario , her sister is actor Catharine Daddario , and her grandfather was congressman Emilio Daddario (Emilio Q. Daddario), of ...

Ariel Winter is one of Hollywood's most promising young talents with notable roles in both television and film. Ariel stars on ABC's critically acclaimed and Emmy® winning hit series, " Modern Family (2009)." Winter plays 'Alex Dunphy,' the brainy middle child in the Dunphy family, opposite Ty ...

Actress |
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Kaya Rose Scodelario was born in Haywards Heath, Sussex, England, to Katia (Scodelario) and Roger Humphrey. Her father was English and her mother is Brazilian, of Italian and Portuguese descent. Her surname comes from her mother's Italian grandfather. Thanks to her mother, Kaya grew up fluent in ...

Actress |
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

Kat Dennings was born Katherine Victoria Litwack in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia, to Ellen (Schatz), a speech therapist and poet, and Gerald Litwack, a molecular pharmacologist. She is the youngest of five children. Her family is of Russian Jewish descent. Kat was predominantly ...

January Jones was born on January 5, 1978 in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. She is the daughter of Karen Sue (née Cox), a sporting goods store manager, and Marvin Roger Jones, a gym teacher and fitness director. She is of Czech, Danish, English, Welsh, and German ancestry. She was named after the ...

Actress |
I Know What You Did Last Summer

Jennifer Love Hewitt was born in Waco, Texas, to Patricia Mae (Shipp), a speech-language pathologist, and Herbert Daniel Hewitt, a medical technician. She has English, Italian, French, Scottish, and German ancestry. She got her first name from her older brother Todd Daniel Hewitt (b. November 8, ...

As the highest-paid actress in the world in 2015 and 2016, and with her films grossing over $5.5 billion worldwide, Jennifer Lawrence is often cited as the most successful actress of her generation. She is also the first person born in the 1990s to have won an acting Oscar. Jennifer Shrader Lawrence...

French actress and model Eva Gaëlle Green was born on July 6, 1980, in Paris, France. Her father, Walter Green , is a dentist who appeared in the 1966 film Au hasard Balthazar (1966). Her mother, Marlène Jobert , is an actress turned children's book writer. Eva's mother was born in Algeria, of French...

Jenna Coleman is best known for her BAFTA-nominated performance as Clara in 'Doctor Who' and for playing the title role in ITV's Emmy-nominated series 'Victoria'. She was most recently seen in a lead role as Marie-Andrée Leclerc in the dark crime drama 'The Serpent' for BBC and Netflix opposite ...

Sophie Belinda Jonas (née Turner; born February 21, 1996) is an English actress. Turner made her professional acting debut as Sansa Stark on the HBO fantasy television series Game of Thrones (2011) (2011-2019), which brought her international recognition and critical praise. For her performance, ...

Ashley Victoria Benson was born on December 18, 1989 in Anaheim Hills, California, to Shannon (Harte) and Jeff Benson. She has Irish, English, and German ancestry. She has been dancing competitively since she was 2 with hip hop, jazz, ballet, tap and lyrical. She has been singing since she was ...

Jessica Michelle Chastain was born in Sacramento, California, and was raised in a middle-class household in a Northern California suburb. Her mother, Jerri Chastain, is a vegan chef whose family is originally from Kansas, and her stepfather is a fireman. She discovered dance at the age of nine and ...

Alice Sophia Eve was born in London, England. Her father is Trevor Eve and her mother is Sharon Maughan , both fellow actors. She is the eldest of three children. Eve has English, Irish and Welsh ancestry. Her family moved to Los Angeles, California when she was young as her father tried to crack ...

Leven Alice Rambin is an American actress. She is known for playing look-alike half-sisters Lily Montgomery and Ava Benton on All My Children and her recurring roles in Grey's Anatomy and Gone, as well Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, One Tree Hill, Wizards of Waverly Place, and CSI: Miami....

A literate look at the 50 most unforgettable breasts in movie history
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
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The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
The Surprisingly Tender Delight of “the Sluttiest Thing a Man Can Do”
25 Pairs of Shoes That’ll Make Your Return to Office Marginally Less Miserable
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Since 1957, GQ has inspired men to look sharper and live smarter with its unparalleled coverage of style, culture, and beyond. From award-winning writing and photography to binge-ready videos to electric live events, GQ meets millions of modern men where they live, creating the moments that create conversations.
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She rises from the depths like the Venus of the San Fernando Valley—slicked hair glistening, water dripping from her smiling lipps, dark eyes glittering with libidinal mischief. Then—in a scene that will forever grant an otherwise incomprehensible erotic aura to the Cars—the new-wave chestnut "Moving in Stereo" kicks in as Phoebe Cates begins her slo-mo poolside strut. And boy, do they move in stereo, those pert, secondary sexual characteristics of teenage Phoebe Cates, as—in one breathtaking gesture—she frees her frisky buds from their front-fastening red bikini top to quiver in the balletic perfection of Judge Reinhold's furtive spank dream. The boob shot would soon become stock-in-trade of the Porky's epoch, but it would never be used to such weighty narrative effect. Here, hooters star in a compressed version of the male adolescent's tragic arc: from the soaring heights of erotic fantasia to the bleak depths of sexual humiliation, as the sleek naiad of Reinhold's imaginings actually walks in on him log-flogging to her image. The cable arts channel Bravo included this scene in its Sexiest Moments in Film —in which the model-pundit Roshumba Williams helpfully explained, "In the male world, boobs are huge."
I'd heard it was scary, so I went. It scared me, all right. Scarred me. Before, I'd believed outer space an antiseptic realm soundtracked by strauss. I quickly learned otherwise. Learned that space was cloyingly organic, infected and infectious, rapacious—and that to experience space was to experience not the infinite void but rather the claustrophobic horror of being caged with a sexual predator.
Indeed, Alien teemed, burst, with inner private parts that had no business seeing the light of day. Firstly: that loathsome leathery pod that grew translucent as John Hurt neared, revealing a jellied organ aquiver within. Moments later, thick black lips peeled back to expose—no doubt about it—a glistening, pulsating vagina . Then, in response to Hurt's whispered exclamation ("...organic life! "), that wicked wobbling vagina-squid sprung forth and... raped his face! Clasped its insectoidal legs to his scalp, noosed his neck with its muscled tentacle, and pumped a fleshly funnel down the man's throat, through which it...planted its seed.
Such a filthy movie: exploding retractable jaws; acidic body fluids; a severed droid head whose mouth issued lewd taunts ("perfect organism! ") along with a strange milky effluent; a man who gave birth. That birth—is there a more violent, violating moment in filmdom? As Hurt bayed in pain, my dear, sweet, credulous brother, sitting beside me, began to whimper. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. When the spawn emerged from Hurt's chest, spraying gore and squealing triumphantly, he promptly pissed himself—then fled the theater.
They popped up near the end, after the last human standing—Sigourney Weaver's character, Ripley—had blown up the mother ship and escaped in the shuttle. Safe at last, she began to relax. Off came the clothes.
Now, Alien worked on the principle that what can't be seen is always more vivid than what can. (Glimpses of the creature were fleeting at best.) So it was that Ripley's breasts remained sheathed. Whereas the alien had its exoskeletal armor, Ripley had that skimpy white tank top, thin as cheesecloth, which only made her seem more human, more vulnerable. So palpably natural, those breasts, utterly unbuoyed and uninflated. They even seemed a bit forlorn—bewildered little patties blinking and withering in the harsh fluorescent light of the shuttle. The nipples, however, were another story; they'd gone as hard as ski-pole tips. It was both the earthliest and the sexiest image of a woman I had ever seen, and by way of contrast it created the film's most disorienting moment.
Presented with Ripley's tumescent womanhood, I began to let my guard down, to psychologically uncurl myself and to physically sit up straight in my seat, as it were. The movie was just setting me up, of course; the alien had stowed itself in the shuttle. As it came out of hiding, I got my first good look at its proboscis. Which was—gleamingly, drippingly, chitinously, blackly, hugely, undeniably—phallic. I took it as I was meant to take it, as a grotesque mockery of my own arousal. You don't get to have her— it does. Was I manufacturing sexual undertones? No. For as the beast nonchalantly began to stretch its limbs and slide its goo-slicked jaw in and out, in and out, what did Ripley say over and over? Lucky, lucky, lucky. That's right—the perfect organism was gonna get "lucky" with Ripley.
I was 12 years old then. I'd already learned to pair id with dread; I knew well the horror of others banging on the bathroom door as I...took my time. Yet I had never had—and never again would have—the third-rail force of my own sexual desire so vividly and soul-scarringly converted into fear.
Now, twenty-six years later, I only wish I'd pissed and run like my brother. I'd be just a little less fucked-up if I had.— Andrew Corsello
To me, the oddest instutition in Hollywood is the body double. I can understand if an actress, for various reasons, doesn't want to do nudity. But then why let someone else do it for her? If everyone thinks those are your tits, then in some sense they are your tits. I guess a body double simply saves an actress the embarrassment of being ogled by the key grip and the best boy all day. But what the big deal is about showing tits I don't know, unless they aren't such great tits. Which is, of course, a perfectly valid reason for modesty.
There is one brilliant reason not to show them, and that is to increase the value of showing them eventually. Halle Berry was rumored to have demanded a six-figure deal for baring nipple in Swordfish , though she denies it. But she was well paid for this box-office-stimulating flash. (I would also deny being paid a premium for nipple exposure. In fact, I do deny it.) Timing is everything, however. Meg Ryan never showed 'em, and then was counting on a surprise appearance of her mammies in In the Cut to uplift her sagging career. Alas, it was too little too late.
One of the best star breast moments in film was the brief but pleasant exposure of Linda Fiorentino's in The Moderns . As someone interested in the art world of the '20s, I just hate pseudo-cool movies like Alan Rudolph's wimpy rendering of the modernist movement, but I loved Linda Fiorentino as the modernist muse and sylphlike sybarite. The one genuinely modern thing in this film is Fiorentino's body. Her breasts are revealed when the crass collector, played by John Lone, performs the obeisance of shaving her armpits, then again when she tub-wrestles with the painter, played by Keith Carradine. She's not exactly androgynous, but streamlined. A woman after Matisse, built for running, not milking. Artemis, not Aphrodite. All in all, a pleasant relief from the glandular excesses of Hollywood and a tribute to the erotic sensibilities of those of us who were happily weaned.— Glenn O'Brien
Like so much transgression, it begins with cigarettes. Titta, Fellini's younger self—living in a tiny town in fascist-era Italy; adolescent, hormones geysering, his days spent in delinquency, yearning, and self-abuse—goes to the tobacconist to buy himself "una nazionale," just one. It is closing time, and he slips in under the iron gate. The proprietress, locking up for the night, is moving large sacks across the floor, and he offers to help. "You couldn't manage," she dismisses him; he is half her size, after all.
She is cartoonishly ample. In her pale blue cardigan, her bust is an unyielding shelf, jutting out in an improbable cantilever worthy of Frank Gehry. An undifferentiated wedge such as this could be known only as a bosom. Amarcord is above all a film of recollection (the title means "I remember" in Italian dialect). It makes sense that these jugs of memory would be outsize, hypertrophic ideals, although Maria Antonietta Beluzzi, the actress playing the part, is real enough.
Titta protests, saying he can lift eighty kilos, can even lift his father. "What do you weigh?" he asks. "I could lift you, too."
"Ah si?" she asks, bored. She takes off her apron, slams down the iron gate, and turns to him, sizing him up. Why not? she must be thinking. Everyone in town is looking for something to break up the monotony. "Vediamo," she dares him.
The transaction is hugely awkward and private. His arms barely make it around her fantastically broad, brown-tweed-clad ass. He lifts her three times in quick succession. He is almost undone by his efforts while her shrieks of laughter give way to a moaning, closed-eyed rapture. Her head brushes against the hanging lightbulb, and she doesn't care. Even when she is back on solid ground, her delirious floating fugue continues, still held aloft by the preconscious memory of weightlessness, nothing more than her birthright, being possessed of such a pair of balloons.
And what balloons they are! Overwhelmed, she unpacks her sweater, releasing only one.
"Drive me crazy, just a little," she tells him, pulling his mouth against the left nipple. He is a baby once again, the breast dwarfing his head. Its right twin manifests in a great, shuddering mitosis. He blows on it. "You have to suck, you idiot," she says, cajoling, still in the moment. She presses his face into the deep cleft between the watermelons. He cannot breathe.
It is over as suddenly as it began. She shoves him away roughly; the cardigan is restuffed. Warm biology becomes angora-clad architecture once more. She is all business now, closing up shop, reminding him of his initial purpose: a Nazionale. She hands him one for free. "Un regalo [a present]," she says, with no trace of affection in her voice. Best not to dwell on the size of the tiny baton. He takes it and walks to the iron gate. Spent, he cannot budge it. She lifts it effortlessly and pushes him out into the night.
Wish fulfillment can make all men briefly stupid, and still we chase after the chance to make idiots of ourselves. At that age, instinct would probably desert us, too, and we would also blow when faced with the heaving udders of La Tabaccaia—so confusingly, simultaneously liquid and solid. From rigid cardigan to flesh and back to cardigan once more. In science such a thing is known as a non-Newtonian liquid. Cornstarch and water, for example, will dribble freely over an open palm, but clench your fist and it seizes up into a firm handful. Relax again and back it flows. Fellini has another word for something that can switch states so rapidly, providing ever changing and equal measures of give and resistance, opprobrium and succor: Mommy.— David Rakoff
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