Ava ran her hands down her front, over her body that changed by the day. No longer was she flat, yet she wasn't fully developed either. She turned sideways to the mirror to see her profile, to see how her new breasts protruded from her rib cage. She raised her hand to push from below, to push them upward into a larger mound of soft fat.
There is nothing more bewitching than Lucy's naked form. In clothing no heads turn her way to admire. They don't know what they're missing and I'm glad. The world can keep its supermodels, anorexic looking as they are. Lucy is soft and her breasts so warm, so responsive to the touch. As soon as my hand is upon them her kisses change, deeper, more sensual. I can't imagine anyone with implants can respond like that. Everything about her is natural and I love it. I love her too, everything that she is. I don't need eye candy to make the guys jealous, I need a soulmate to keep me warm at night and that she will always be.
There is something so disarming about seeing Miranda naked. There's a vulnerability in her eyes I can't resist. My eyes travel from her face to her collar bone, delicate in the semi-darkness, then to her breasts. Without lingerie they sit lower, more natural, less close together, each so perfect and moulded to her form. I don't linger too long, just enough for her to see how beautiful she is to me. It's her eyes I want to see and my hands can tell me the rest.
The only part of Colette the men noticed were her breasts. Even in a sports bra they appeared enhanced. By the end of the day her back ached and the straps of her bra had dug deeply into her shoulders. The small chested women always glanced her way in envy but if she could swap she'd do it in a heartbeat.
Nadia had the breasts of a french actress rather than anything North American television has to offer. The tops caught the moonlight, the underneath a soft shadow. She walked without shame or false modesty, knowing she was beautiful to the eye, sleek with an athletic frame.
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