It was a warm morning and the earlyworkers sweltered in the pulsating sun. My breath was cut short, aghastat the decision I had made. The bra clung to...my flat chest, its cupsdesperately lifting what it could. The garment had sat on my desk formonths after purchase, taunting me with its tantalising straps. I couldnever explain the draw, the compulsion to this particular item oflingerie. It was the thrill, I guess. The thrill of a bra of my own."Morning Kate," I exclaimed cheerfully to the. Tom stopped me."Hold on," he said. "Let's go slowly. Let me show you what I can dofirst," he said, unzipping my dress. It fell to my ankles. "Now, laydown to the couch," he commanded.I laid down on the couch, and he climbed on top of me. He began playingwith my breast (forms) through the bra. Even though they were fake, Iswear I felt my nipples getting hard. "Please, Tom, please let me touchit." No," he said, "I'm going to please you and then, and only then, will Ilet you please me," he said.. More

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