[F] My brother doesn’t know…

Okay so this happened a few years ago after a house party. My brother was passed out upstairs (too many drinks) and I'd helped him stagger into bed. His girlfriend was still downstairs, starting the clean up mission, and when I came back down, she was putting red cups into a trash bag. She gave me a smile and rolled her eyes.

"Is he okay?"

"Barely" I laughed. "Aren't you two supposed to be going on a date tomorrow?"

She laughed, picking up her glass and sipping what was left of her wine. Her heels were off. Her hair was down. She looked relaxed in a way I rarely saw when Ben was awake.

"Supposed to be, yeah! Oh well," she smiled. "At least we had fun tonight."

I nodded, sitting down on the edge of the couch. She stopped tidying and came and sat beside me, bringing her wine with her. She looked great in her little red dress. I tried not to stare at her cleavage, but I don't think there was a guy at the party who hadn't treated themselves to a few stolen glances; they were huge, and the way they moved when she danced was hypnotic.

My own breasts were pretty big anyway, but hers were on another level.

My brother was a lucky guy.

She was watching me, and I felt myself blush.

She took a sip of her wine. "You always get quiet when it's just us."

"Do I?"

"Mmhmm."

She sipped her wine again, slow and thoughtful.

I could feel my chest tightening. Something about the way she was watching me made my skin prickle. Not in a bad way, but not in a good way either. I felt weird. Ashamed, but I didn't know why.

"I think it's because you're nervous around me," she said.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again.

She smiled, not unkindly. "You are. Aren't you?"

I cleared my throat. "Ben's girlfriend. So yeah, maybe a little."

She tilted her head. "And if I wasn't?" She grinned. "Don't worry. I just…sometimes I notice things. Like the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking."

I flushed. Heat crept up my neck, into my ears. "I don't–"

"You do," she said gently.

I stood up. "I should clean up a bit more before bed."

She didn't stop me. But she didn't move either. I crossed to the kitchen, grabbed two empty bottles and a couple of paper plates, and made a show of tossing them into the bin.

"Hey," she said quietly, still from the sofa. "Come sit back down. I want to show you something."

I hesitated.

"I'm not going to do anything," she said. "I just…I want to talk to you. Like a normal person. Without the awkward tension."

I returned slowly, cautiously. I sat back down–but further away this time, near the far end of the sofa. Safe distance.

She let out a breathy laugh. "Wow. You really are scared of me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

She turned toward me slightly, curling her legs under herself.

"I won't tell him," she said softly.

My stomach dropped. "Tell him what?"

She didn't answer. Just looked at me for a long time, like she was weighing whether to say it out loud.

Then: "You want to see my tits, right?"

I froze.

Everything in me locked up–my lungs, my heart, my tongue. It was a dirty, dangerous question.

"I–I–what?" I stammered.

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

I didn't answer.

She set her wine down on the floor and shifted onto her knees, crawling across the cushions toward me with a slow, deliberate calm.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered.

I nodded.

"I've thought about it," she said. "Showing you, I mean."

My heart was hammering. I wanted to move–wanted to stand, to leave the room, to do anything but sit there and let this happen.

"You don't think I notice most guys staring? How could I not? But with you, it's different. I've never had another girl stare like you do…"

"I don't stare!" I said, a little too loud, a little too petulant. "I mean…I dont…"

She grinned, placing her hand on my thigh. "It's okay," she cooed. "It's just a little girlie fun. Nothings going to happen. I know you want to see them, so let me just show you, okay? Let's just get it over with…"

I didn't know what that meant. Not really. But I couldn't stop staring at her mouth when she spoke; her lips suddenly looked so plump and juicy and red and I couldn't get the image of her sucking my clit out of my head.

"I shouldn't…" I murmured. "You're my brothers' girlfriend."

"I thought about it the first time we met," she went on, ignoring me, her eyes locked on mine. "You were wearing that dumb little hoodie, remember? You were trying not to look at me all night, but I saw you. You were dying to peek. Every time I bent over. Every time I danced."

She shifted a little closer, her breasts bouncing with the recoil of the motion.

"I liked it," she whispered. "Still do."

Then, with the slow grace, she brought her hands to the straps of her dress.

"You don't have to look," she said softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "But I think you will."

My pulse thundered in my ears and I watched as she slipped the first strap off her shoulder, then the other. She let the front of the dress drop.

There is no polite way to say it; her tits were fucking huge. Huger than I'd even imagined and real, heavy enough to press against the fabric even before she'd lowered the dress. And, now that they were free, I could see the faintest imprint of lines where the tight dress had tried, and failed, to contain them all evening. Her skin was flawless–smooth and golden in the soft lamplight, with just the faintest freckle trailing beneath one.

And her nipples. God. Her nipples were so fucking hard, impossibly stiff and sensitive-looking. You couldn't pretend they weren't excited. She knew what she was doing. There was nothing accidental about it.

I tried to glance away, to break the spell, but I failed. We remained in silence for what felt like an eternity, and each time she shifted slightly, they moved with a slow, natural sway that made my stomach tighten and my thighs clench. They looked so soft, so heavy, like if I reached out, I could sink my fingers into them.

"I always wondered how you'd react," she said quietly. Her voice was lower now, breathier.

She was enjoying this.

And so was I.

I was wet as fuck.

I still am, remembering it now, writing it out, reliving it.

"You like them, don't you?"

I didn't answer. The fact that I could still hear my brother snoring upstairs while his girlfriend let her tits out in front of me was too much…

Her smile widened. "That's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to say it. I can feel it."

And she leaned back, just slightly, giving me a better view. Not just of her chest, but of her little panties too. She saw my eyes flick in that direction and her mouth opened a little.

"Oh, Sarah. You shouldn't have done that. Now I'm going to have to show you something else…"