The tall, redheaded woman stepped out of the hot tub and walked back towards the hotel, the warm water still dripping off of her body, leaving behind a darkened trail on the pavement. We were alone once again. I looked over at Michael. His eyes bounced up and down in perfect synchrony with her thong-clad ass. I elbowed him in the side. Hard.
"You're such a lecher, geez ... That poor woman..."
"What? I was just admiring her swimsuit."
"Uh huh, I noticed you 'admiring' it the entire time she was here. You couldn't take your eyes off of it, I noticed. Tell me, what did you like best about her swimsuit?"
"I liked ... how it ... exposed most of her tits..." he explained, helpfully using hand gestures in case I had forgotten what her chest had looked like. Not much chance of that. I was going to have nightmares about being suffocated by cantaloupes for days.
I punched his arm. "Pervert! I'm surprised she didn't pop out of that handkerchief ... What's so special about them, anyway? They're just big ... She might as well stuff cantaloupes down her top."
"They're not 'just big, ' they're amazing! Perfect shape, gravity-defying perkiness, those hard nipples poking through her swimsuit top ... It'd be like totally ignoring Botticelli's The Birth of Venus right next to you."
The Birth of Venus? Geez, really? Was that how seriously he took breasts? And were those the sort of breasts he liked? Huge? I had to admit, I didn't see any of the beauty that he did. I glanced down my far more substantial bikini top. It didn't have nearly so much to cover as hers had... "I wonder how mine are..." Where would they rank? Would they be The Starry Night or were they closer to that monkey Jesus painting?
"I'll judge them. If you want..." Michael offered.
My eyes widened. I said that out loud? Shit ... My cheeks burned, even with the cool night air. My tongue touched the roof of my mouth, ready to say "No," but I stopped, my lips already parted.
Well, why not... ? Michael was my best friend, ever since college. And he was certainly a connoisseur of the female breast, if his usual conversation topics were any indication. He'd be able to give me an idea of where I ranked on the Famous Painting Scale of Breast Amazingness.
Part of the problem was that no one had ever gotten the chance to tell me how they were. My conservative parents, born and raised in India, had forbidden me from dating as a child, and I hadn't dated in college. No one had really approached me, and I hadn't had any strong crushes to pursue myself.
Now that I had graduated, it seemed harder to meet guys, and so far, none had really grabbed my attention. To be honest, none of them really measured up to Michael's standard, even as a friend. He was always there for me, always ready to talk, always willing to give me a back rub or cook dinner or watch a movie with me when I needed some company. He listened to my neurotic worries. He gave me advice.
And he certainly wasn't unattractive, despite his scruffy beard. He really would look nicer clean-shaven ... Even so, if I were being totally forthcoming, I would have to admit that I had previously wondered how he might kiss. I couldn't deny stealing a glance or two at him when he wasn't looking. He filled out his jeans pretty well, both front and back. The thought of him seeing my body felt, well, it felt a lot of things: embarrassing, exhilarating, exciting ... freeing, fabulous, flagitious...
"Are you serious?" I asked, fearing he had just been joking.
His eyebrows arched. I doubt he had expected me to take him up on his offer. "Yeah. I mean, yeah, if you want me to, I'd be willing to do that for you."
I looked around. We were the only ones around. Everyone else at the hotel had gone inside for the night, leaving the pool and hot tubs abandoned. Except for us. "Okay, but be honest, I mean it! Don't sugar coat it! If they're bad, just tell me. I want to know. I know they're small, but size doesn't matter, right? I mean, they're still-"
"Urvashi, I'm sure they're fine. I promise, I'll be completely, one hundred percent honest with you."
"Okay. But close your eyes! You can open them when I say so."
"Alright," he assented. He closed his eyes and covered them with his hands.
The stars twinkled above us. Steam rose off of the water, wafting into the air. The only sound was the soft gurgling of the hot tub. I bit my lip. I couldn't believe I was about to do this, to show my best friend my breasts ... What would he think of them? I hoped he'd like them ... I reached behind my back and untied my top. It almost fell into the water before I caught it, cupping my breasts, preserving my modesty a moment longer.
I took a deep breath and flung my top to the side. It landed with a wet thwack. No going back now...
I looked down, studying myself. My butterscotch breasts lay completely exposed for the first time, my dark brown nipples already hard, poking out brashly, eager for their first bit of attention. I hadn't ever really thought about whether or not they were attractive before. Were they?
I cupped them gently, pushing them up a bit, briefly giving myself something that, at the right angle and with some generous benefit of the doubt, might resemble cleavage before surrendering to the limitations of volume. They weren't going to get any bigger in the next few seconds... "Alright, you can open your eyes," I instructed him.
He lowered his hands. His eyes widened. My hands gripped my thighs as I fought to stop myself from covering myself from his view. I was topless in front of a guy. A guy was staring at my chest. A lot ... His eyes lingered on my breasts, his gaze caressing every inch of them. A grin crept up from the corners of his mouth. But he didn't say anything.
Seconds ticked by, the suspense driving me crazy. My heart pounded. An unexpected—but not undesired—warmth grew between my thighs as he continued to stare at me, ogling me like a piece of meat, admiring me like a piece of art. I had never been looked at like this before. It was thrilling. He was my audience. Did he find me attractive? Sexy? Was he turned on by me? Aroused? Repulsed? Disgusted? "So? How are mine? H-how do they look?" I asked shakily. "I know they're not-"
"They're gorgeous," he whispered.
"Really. They're pert and perky. They look very firm, too. They're beautifully round. And I just love your skin tone. Don't worry about their size, they look like a perfect handful," he explained, his eyes still focused on my chest. "I actually prefer petite breasts...
"You really have nothing to worry about, though. You have the body of a goddess. There should be statues of you in art museums."
My heart fluttered. A goddess? I had certainly never imagined that my breasts were divine ... But if he said so ... I hungered for more. I wanted to satisfy him. I needed to. "Do you want to check?"
"You, uh, you said they looked like a perfect handful. Do you want to check for yourself?" What had been in my drink? Where did this sudden confidence come from? Two minutes ago, no one had ever seen my breasts, and now I was inviting my best friend to fondle them. And I wanted him to. I wanted his hands on my body. I wanted to drive him wild with desire. I wanted him to remember this and touch himself on lonely nights, thinking about my naked body as he orgasmed, moaning my name. I swallowed. Did I really just think that... ?
"Okay, but this is just so you can tell me how they are, got it?" I emphasized, already imagining how his hands would feel against my sensitive flesh, his fingers grazing against my soft skin.
"Got it." His hands emerged from the water, his fingers approaching me like the Kraken's tentacles. I grabbed his wrists.
"Wait, wait. Stop for a second."
"Are you alright? It's fine if you don't want to do this."
"No, I'm okay. It's just ... embarrassing to do this face-to-face ... Can you do it from behind?" His eyebrow arched. "N-n-not like that! I mean, like..."
"I know what you mean, don't worry." He held my arm and turned me around, positioning me. My skin tingled where he grabbed me. I exhaled deeply as he pulled me towards him, both of us facing forward. I surrendered myself to his guidance. I reached his lap. A hard bulge pressed against me. Oh my god, is that his ... his twig? I shifted my weight a bit. It rose forcefully against me. It was big ... And hard ... It had to be that, what else could it be? Should I mention it to him?
I had never seen one in person. I had watched some porn, of course. Not much, but enough to know the basics. But flesh and blood? Never. Not a real, adult one, anyway. Babysitting little cousins, they had been impossible not to see, but those were just innocent nubs. This ... This was a man's tool: powerful, virile, designed for one thing ... And it was hard, as hard as steel, because of me ... I caused this...
I gasped. Michael's hands engulfed my breasts. "Are you still okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I replied. "You just surprised me." I was thankful that he couldn't see my face. My cheeks must be crimson, and I was sure I would draw blood if I bit my lip any harder. His hands moved slowly, gently, probing my body. His fingertips swirled around my areolas. A moan escaped from my clenched jaws as he softly pinched my erect nipples. His bulge reacted, squirming against me. He was enjoying himself, at least. That much was obvious. Memories of Michael's wallet poking against me during his wondrous massages flitted through my mind. Had he been hard then, too?
"Is that, um ... you?" I asked, wiggling my bottom for clarity.
.... There is more of this story ...