It was a beautiful spring night. Angela was coming over, so I had prepared dinner. When she arrived, she was a vision, clad in a form fitting, black athletic T-shirt that clung to her well endowed chest. Her t was tucked into a long black skirt that gripped tightly to the curves of her hips. We enjoyed dinner and a few moments of conversation.
Since I had prepared the meal, Angela insisted on cleaning the dishes after dinner. I turned on the radio to a local Top 40 station. As she washed the plates and glasses, her hips swayed to the beat of the music while singing along.
I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I began to kiss her lightly on the neck. My hands slowly untucked her t-shirt and began caressing the silky skin underneath. As I continued to kiss her neck, my hands moved upwards towards her breasts. I heard her gasp in pleasure as I squeezed her breasts through the lace of her bra.
Her breasts are lovely. They are fully her own. There is nothing artificial about them, 38-DDs with large nipples that become rock hard with the slightest attention. Any man would love to hold them in his hands.