Big Titty Problems

Darcie lets Ashley into the bedroom with two handfuls of dresses hanging crooked. Her top’s already half off. Ashley doesn’t bother with hellos. “What’s the big drama?” she says, dropping her bag. Darcie points at the mirror, palms covering heavy pale breasts that spill over her forearms. “Nothing fits right. Look at these things, Ash. He’ll think I’m begging for it.” Ashley scoffs. “You sound pathetic.” She steps close, yanks the bra down with one flick. Darcie’s nipples pop out, dark and stiff from the cool air. Ashley’s mouth seals over the left one before she can argue. Tongue flicking fast, teeth grazing, she sucks until Darcie’s knees give. The other hand squeezes the free tit, thumb rolling the peak, slick spit sliding between fingers. They fall on the bed together. Ashley peels off her own shirt and pushes Darcie onto her back, climbs up so her small tits dangle over Darcie’s face. Darcie lifts her chin, tongue darting between soft flesh until both sets of nipples are glistening. Ashley drops lower, tongue tracing circles down Darcie’s belly until it meets the wet cotton already clinging between her legs. One pull of fabric and she’s licking long, slow strokes through the seam of Darcie’s pussy. Darcie’s thighs clamp, hips buck. Ashley keeps working two fingers in, curling them until Darcie’s heels drum the mattress. Darcie flips her. She yanks Ashley’s jeans past her ass, spreads her open with both hands, tongue buried, jaw aching. Two of them panting now, hips rolling, fingers buried to the knuckle. When Darcie slides on top again they grind, clits slick, the heat building sharp and wet. Sweat gleams between Darcie’s tits, Ashley’s come painting the sheets in slick patches. They keep going until legs shake and they slump against each other, breathing like they ran a mile. Ashley wipes her mouth on Darcie’s thigh and nods at the open closet. “Wear the red one. You’re not hiding those tits anymore.” Darcie stands, tits swaying heavy and flushed. She pulls the low-cut dress over her head, the neckline barely containing the full curves. Outside the teacher’s waiting. Darcie checks the mirror, sees the rise of cleavage and the flush on her throat, and smiles like she means it.