Sometimes it’s hard to keep them contained

You can see exactly why keeping those big tits contained was always going to be a losing battle.

You feel your eyes drag downward before your brain catches up, pulled by something more honest than intention. You notice the way fabric surrenders at the edges, stretched past any reasonable expectation, the soft weight of her — of what's in front of you — demanding acknowledgment.

You want to reach out. You want to close the remaining distance between your hands and what's already halfway to escaping. You find yourself holding your breath without meaning to, caught somewhere between looking and wanting.