Suddenly, she turned her head and looked straight at me. The shift was subtle at first—just a glance—but there was intent behind it. Then, without hesitation, she reached up and pulled aside the clothing that had been covering her chest.
My eyes widened instantly.
There was no preparation for it, no warning. One second she was standing there, and the next, her bare breasts were fully exposed to me, unapologetic and bold. It wasn't just the sight that stunned me, but the confidence behind the act. She didn't look embarrassed. If anything, she looked like she was daring me to react.
Her breasts could only really be described one way: pretty big. Big enough that gravity naturally tugged at them, giving them a slight sag, yet not in a way that suggested softness or weakness. I knew—without even touching them—that they were firm. That gentle droop wasn't from age or lack of strength; it was simply because they were heavy. Gravity was doing what gravity always did.
