Maal Fingering

No matter, he had been here before, uncountable times. Their dance shifted, brought him down on her, his weight stilling her movements. She did not go easy, writhing underneath him, nails finding his back in punishment. He luxuriated in the pain – and the touch. But he was not willing to let her have her way, his mouth had not tasted enough of her yet. He loved the way her back arched as his teeth found the long column of her throat, the shudder as he laved the little marks his teeth made in her skin. The sigh when he found the hollow at her collarbone, the sigh changing to a mewl when his hands filled with her breasts. There he halted, let the minutes stretch for his own enjoyment. How often would he still be allowed to touch, to feel that subtle skin, that fullness under his hands. He had no idea why the pale curve, the dark contrast of the aureole had such profound attraction to him, but every time he touched her, it was a moment to savour. It was also a moment of torture, her. I was no longer the B-cup that I’d been so happy with the previous morning (and extremely happy with the previous night) - I’d somehow grown two cup-sizes in two days. I’d gone from being the nice, sexual, respectable girl ... to being what Marty had called “Girl Plus”. Not a compliment, not when you knew what it meant.C-cups ... were easy. Not nearly as bad as D-cups, of course, but certainly not prudes. As someone who had been as un-easy as possible just a few days ago, I was barely adjusting to having a normal, healthy sex-life ... now I was going to be easy.I stood in front of the mirror in shock, until the knock on the door pulled me out of my stupor.“Sis?” Marty’s voice said, and when I didn’t reply, the door began to open.“Coming!” I said, quickly turning and putting a shirt on.I’d gone to school yesterday without a bra - I hadn’t had a choice. Originally I’d been planning to go after school and get myself a nice, new B-cup ... but it looked like my sudden growth spurt wasn’t.
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