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Note To Self
Date: 11/27/2014, Categories: Bisexual, Author: blin18, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories
out precisely for the reason that it could be shown off through the blouse. “I’ll just show you number one and two,” she went on. “One is in the shower and two is in the mirror. Three is in bed, so we can leave that one until we get to know each other a bit better,” she joked. At least it sounded like a joke. Throwing modesty to the wind, I pulled my t-shirt over my head to reveal my highly practical and comfortable black lycra bra, just as she was reaching behind to unclasp that Victoria’s Secret page three special. Susan shrugged off her shoulder straps, and cupping it in both hands she lowered it to reveal her breasts, round and full at the bottom with a ski-jump curve on top. With my fingers working at the clasp on my own bra, I froze, an unfamiliar shiver pricking goose-bumps on my arms and making the little hairs stand on end. Oh my God. They match! The thought was so clear and real, I wondered for moment if it had come out of my mouth. Her areolae were tiny, about the size of pennies, with small, slightly upturned nipples at the center of each – so small and perfect, it was hard to believe they’d ever seen the inside of a baby’s mouth. But the thing that stopped me was the color; it was the exact shade of pink as her skirt. My own skin is a Mediterranean olive brown – almost dark enough for skinhead Nazi punks to call me ‘colored’, but really no more than the deep tan that an Anglo can go if they see a lot of sun. I guess I’ve seen white girls’ tits before – mostly at ... night busting street walkers who won’t get a fucking room – but I haven’t ever been affected like that. It was actually scary; I could feel my jugular throbbing in my neck. I managed to get my bra off and put it on the counter, hoping that Susan hadn’t seen my reaction to her breasts. I inspected my own in the mirror; full and round at the tops and sides, the extra weight made them sit a bit wider than Susan’s. My areolae are much bigger; smooth and brown and the size of a baby’s hand. I suppose I was so used to my own shape and color that Susan’s had caught me off-guard, but that difference made them seem exotic somehow; maybe forbidden. Looking at them gave me the same feeling as seeing something you’re not supposed to – or not accustomed to; like when a guy has his feet up and you can see right up the leg of his shorts to his underwear. But I think most of all it was the color; not that it was different to mine, but that it matched her skirt. Those smooth curves of pink that clung to her hips and stretched across the parting of her legs were the color of sex; and there was so much of it, it hurt my eyes to look. “Number one you can do in the shower, because it’s just by touch, not by sight” she began, holding her left arm in the air and nodding at me to copy. “So working from the outside to the centre,” she continued, pressing into her breast with all four fingers, “move the pads of your fingers in a circle, feeling all of the flesh of your breast. You’re looking for any ...