The last droplets of water pitter-patted away on the shower floor, and Andrea was left with the sounds of her own fast and shallow breathing. She looked down at the rise and fall of her chest as her lungs drew in the steamy air. It almost seemed as if her breasts were growing and receding. She breathed deep, deeper, and held it, savoring the effect, then exhaled, laughing.
She felt silly longing for bigger boobs. That would come soon enough. For now she savored the sensation of their weight and took joy in how much they filled her field of vision when she looked down.
Andrea was indeed lost in thought when she caught her hand sneaking its way across her belly heading south. She had already spent too much time doing that. How long had her shower lasted? Probably too long judging by her fingers, which were now a collection of pink prunes. It was time to dry off.
She stepped out onto the rug still dripping. But instead of reaching for a towel she tried shaking her self like a wet dog might. At first her breasts resisted the torquing of her torso, but then they picked up speed, slapping against her right arm, now her left, then back. The force of so much weight in motion caught her off guard. She gripped the edge of the sink fiercely in an effort not to lose what little balance she had remaining.
The quake was over. She was chucking at herself for acting on such a dumb idea when she caught a glimpse of herself in the still foggy and now droplet spattered mirror. It was a changed Andrea who looked back. She looked beyond the physicality of her still jiggling bosom and saw a girl laughing for the first time in months, one happy with her body, one who felt sexy and alive.
Andrea hoped the feeling was contagious. She quickly toweled herself off, tugged on a snug pair of clean panties, threw on the big terrycloth robe hanging on a hook by the door and bounded out into the hallway.
yep, you are really good at this, your story telling is really good, your art is crap compared to your Literature, but seriously your art needs tiny(miniscule) bit of work, at least to be as good as this story LOL.
She felt silly longing for bigger boobs. That would come soon enough. For now she savored the sensation of their weight and took joy in how much they filled her field of vision when she looked down.
Andrea was indeed lost in thought when she caught her hand sneaking its way across her belly heading south. She had already spent too much time doing that. How long had her shower lasted? Probably too long judging by her fingers, which were now a collection of pink prunes. It was time to dry off.
She stepped out onto the rug still dripping. But instead of reaching for a towel she tried shaking her self like a wet dog might. At first her breasts resisted the torquing of her torso, but then they picked up speed, slapping against her right arm, now her left, then back. The force of so much weight in motion caught her off guard. She gripped the edge of the sink fiercely in an effort not to lose what little balance she had remaining.
The quake was over. She was chucking at herself for acting on such a dumb idea when she caught a glimpse of herself in the still foggy and now droplet spattered mirror. It was a changed Andrea who looked back. She looked beyond the physicality of her still jiggling bosom and saw a girl laughing for the first time in months, one happy with her body, one who felt sexy and alive.
Andrea hoped the feeling was contagious. She quickly toweled herself off, tugged on a snug pair of clean panties, threw on the big terrycloth robe hanging on a hook by the door and bounded out into the hallway.