A family is sitting around the dinner table. The son asks his father, “Dad, how many kinds of breasts are there?”
The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, there are three kinds of breasts. In her twenties, a women’s breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her thirties to forties, they are like pears, still nice, but hanging a bit. After fifty, they are like onions.”
“Onions?” said the boy. “Yes, you see them and they make you cry,” the father replied.
This infuriated his wife and daughter, so the daughter asked, “Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?”
The mother, surprised, smiled and looked at her daughter and answered, “Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties, it is a birch, flexible, but reliable. And after fifty, it is like a Christmas tree.”
“A Christmas tree?” asked the daughter, confused.
“Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration only.
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