big enough for you to play with them?

She already knows the answer — you can see it in the way she holds your gaze, chin tilted, completely unbothered by how your attention keeps drifting south.

They're heavy, full, the kind that demand both hands and still overflow. The weight of them shifts as she breathes, skin warm under the light, and you're already thinking about exactly how you'd grip them.

Go ahead — she's asking the question because she wants to watch you struggle to answer it. Your mouth goes dry. Your hands remember what it feels like before you've even touched her.