Bianca Biggs
Lesbian ploys
Visiting the aunt
Blossoms and bosoms
Bianca Biggs knows what she looks like. She leans on the edge of the bed, lets the robe fall off one shoulder, and waits until your eyes find her again. The light from the hallway hits the slope of her tits and stays there. Five-seven, a hundred twenty pounds, and the kind of body that makes people stop talking when she walks into a room. Her waist dips in just enough to show the gentle flare of her hips. Everything else is full and soft, heavy where it should be. The 36Ds stretch the thin fabric of the camisole she hasn't bothered to button all the way. The green eyes don't look away. They hold on until whoever she's looking at starts to shift in their seat.
Bianca Biggs knows what she looks like. She leans on the edge of the bed, lets the robe fall off one shoulder, and waits until your eyes find her again. The light from the hallway hits the slope of her tits and stays there. Five-seven, a hundred twenty pounds, and the kind of body that makes people stop talking when she walks into a room. Her waist dips in just enough to show the gentle flare of her hips. Everything else is full and soft, heavy where it should be. The 36Ds stretch the thin fabric of the camisole she hasn't bothered to button all the way. The green eyes don't look away. They hold on until whoever she's looking at starts to shift in their seat.