My hands slid up to her breasts, almost on their own.
The moment my palms cupped them, I was hit by just how incredibly soft they were. They were so soft that it almost didn't feel real.
It was like I was holding marshmallows crafted by the gods themselves, a softness that melted against my skin yet pushed back with the slightest resistance. When I squeezed, they gave way just a little, yielding under my touch, only to spring right back and bounce slightly against my palms.
Firm, supple, and perfect. Her breasts weren't just soft... they were alive, reacting to every graze of my fingers.
And then came the sound.
The breathy, broken moans that spilled past her lips as my hands worked her.
