|
She tossed her bag on her bed, and then popped it
open and took out a skimpy, blue swimsuit. I held my
breath and prayed to the ghost of Marilyn Monroe that
she wouldn't go hide herself in the bathroom to change,
and, indeed, she proceeded to pull off her tight t-shirt
and unzip her tight jeans right then and there.
"Aren't you getting changed?" she asked,
catching me staring at the pale twin globes that were
putting a heavy, heavy strain on her pink, satiny bra.
"Huh?" I
responded, my throat gone dry with all the breath caught
in there. "Uh, yeah, sure." I fumbled my own
yellow bikini out of my suitcase.
I gripped the flimsy
beachwear in my sweaty, trembling hands and pretended to
do something with it while Morgan broke open her bulging
bra and her huge tits tumbled out into the open. Holy
shit! I almost fell to my knees and fanned my arms in
exultation at the big-breasted goddess. Instead, I
licked my desert-dry lips with a wooden tongue and gazed
in awe at the bodacious girl's wicked titties. They were
massive - huge and heavy and snow-white, firm and round
and peaked by ultra-pink nipples that seemed to swell to
erection right before my bedazzled eyes. Her tits were
larger than any tits I'd ever seen, or handled, in my
short but exciting eighteen years. |
