turned out to be even worse than I thought it would be—but I really was excited about the chance to see Trace LeBeau live, so I felt obligated to indulge her whims.
"I’ve been wanting to do this since I first found out your were going to be my dorm-mate," she said. "It’s like having a life-size Barbie, except brunette and with really awesome tits. Do you have any idea of what I’d give to have tits like yours? How many dudes I’d blow? It chaps my ass to see how you always hide them away. Not tonight, girl. Tonight you’re gonna give these beauties a taste of freedom. You’re gonna let these babies loose."
She ended up stuffing me into a pushup bra that was at least two cup-sizes too small, which left my boobs constantly on the verge of spilling out. And then she had me put on a tight mini-skirt that was cut so low in front you could see the frilled edge of the bra.
"I don’t think I can wear this," I said. "It’s like you’re trying to balance two scoops of ice cream side by side on a single sugar cone. There’s no way I’m gonna get through the night without something falling out."
I grabbed the front of the bra with both hands, trying to pull it up.
"Hey, hey, hey !" she said, smacking my hands away. "Don’t mess with it. It’s perfect just like that." And then she stared for a moment, her eyes looking wistful, and let out a sigh. "I can’t wait till I can get some dude to buy me a pair of tits like those. It’s like having a pair of beautiful, fleshy pillows on your chest."
She reached up with her right hand and squeezed my left boob.
This time it was my turn to say "Hey!" I smacked her hand away. But no sooner had I done that than she reached up with her left hand and squeezed the other one. "Hey!" I said again, smacking her hand.
She raised her face and looked me in the eyes. "Anne," she said, her expression suddenly serious. "You gotta let me have a Brumski."
"What? Let you have a what?"
"A Brumski. You gotta let me have one. With boobs like that, it’s not fair to deny me. It’d be cruel and unusual punishment."
"What the hell is a Brumski?"
"You know, a Brumski. Or maybe you’re more familiar with the term motorboat."
"Motorboat? I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"You don’t know motorboat either? Agh! Say it ain’t so! Such a wonderful bounty god’s granted you, and you don’t even know what something as basic and wonderful and—and essential —as a motorboat is?"
I frowned and shrugged my shoulders.
"Fine, I’ll show you. And this is for your own good."
And then, before I knew what was happening, she’d grabbed my boobs with both of her hands and smooshed her face down into my cleavage, rolling her head right and left, pressing her cheeks against my skin.
"Becca!" I shrieked, hopping backward, the abrupt motion nearly overwhelming the inadequate bra.
She raised her head, a dreamy look on her face, both her eyes still closed.
"Becca, are you crazy!"
She opened her eyes, still smiling. "Gods, but that’s lovely," she said. "You should try it yourself. Your boobs are probably big enough for a solo motorboat." Then her eyes went thoughtful. "But I suppose it’d be like everything else. It’s never quite as magic when you do it to yourself."
"Becca, are we going to this show or what?" I said. "There is a show, right? The Belletrists? You didn’t just make it up so you could play dress up with me, did you?"
"Cripes, that’s lovely too," she said.
And then I realized she wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking at something behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. I was standing in front of the tall mirror. And then I saw what she was looking at. The miniskirt was so mini it left the bottom curve of my buttcheeks hanging out.
"Yipe!" I said, trying to tug the skirt down.
"Hey hey hey, stop!" Becca said. She rushed forward and slapped at my hands again. "Don’t
"I’ve been wanting to do this since I first found out your were going to be my dorm-mate," she said. "It’s like having a life-size Barbie, except brunette and with really awesome tits. Do you have any idea of what I’d give to have tits like yours? How many dudes I’d blow? It chaps my ass to see how you always hide them away. Not tonight, girl. Tonight you’re gonna give these beauties a taste of freedom. You’re gonna let these babies loose."
She ended up stuffing me into a pushup bra that was at least two cup-sizes too small, which left my boobs constantly on the verge of spilling out. And then she had me put on a tight mini-skirt that was cut so low in front you could see the frilled edge of the bra.
"I don’t think I can wear this," I said. "It’s like you’re trying to balance two scoops of ice cream side by side on a single sugar cone. There’s no way I’m gonna get through the night without something falling out."
I grabbed the front of the bra with both hands, trying to pull it up.
"Hey, hey, hey !" she said, smacking my hands away. "Don’t mess with it. It’s perfect just like that." And then she stared for a moment, her eyes looking wistful, and let out a sigh. "I can’t wait till I can get some dude to buy me a pair of tits like those. It’s like having a pair of beautiful, fleshy pillows on your chest."
She reached up with her right hand and squeezed my left boob.
This time it was my turn to say "Hey!" I smacked her hand away. But no sooner had I done that than she reached up with her left hand and squeezed the other one. "Hey!" I said again, smacking her hand.
She raised her face and looked me in the eyes. "Anne," she said, her expression suddenly serious. "You gotta let me have a Brumski."
"What? Let you have a what?"
"A Brumski. You gotta let me have one. With boobs like that, it’s not fair to deny me. It’d be cruel and unusual punishment."
"What the hell is a Brumski?"
"You know, a Brumski. Or maybe you’re more familiar with the term motorboat."
"Motorboat? I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"You don’t know motorboat either? Agh! Say it ain’t so! Such a wonderful bounty god’s granted you, and you don’t even know what something as basic and wonderful and—and essential —as a motorboat is?"
I frowned and shrugged my shoulders.
"Fine, I’ll show you. And this is for your own good."
And then, before I knew what was happening, she’d grabbed my boobs with both of her hands and smooshed her face down into my cleavage, rolling her head right and left, pressing her cheeks against my skin.
"Becca!" I shrieked, hopping backward, the abrupt motion nearly overwhelming the inadequate bra.
She raised her head, a dreamy look on her face, both her eyes still closed.
"Becca, are you crazy!"
She opened her eyes, still smiling. "Gods, but that’s lovely," she said. "You should try it yourself. Your boobs are probably big enough for a solo motorboat." Then her eyes went thoughtful. "But I suppose it’d be like everything else. It’s never quite as magic when you do it to yourself."
"Becca, are we going to this show or what?" I said. "There is a show, right? The Belletrists? You didn’t just make it up so you could play dress up with me, did you?"
"Cripes, that’s lovely too," she said.
And then I realized she wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking at something behind me.
I looked over my shoulder. I was standing in front of the tall mirror. And then I saw what she was looking at. The miniskirt was so mini it left the bottom curve of my buttcheeks hanging out.
"Yipe!" I said, trying to tug the skirt down.
"Hey hey hey, stop!" Becca said. She rushed forward and slapped at my hands again. "Don’t
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