Your Breasts, Your Choice

Lena Paul walked into the spa with a hand pressed to her lower back. "That damn shoulder pain again," she told Evelyn Claire, the petite brunette masseuse waiting at reception. Evelyn's eyes dropped before she could stop them—those full, heavy breasts tested the seams of Lena's tank top. She swallowed and led Lena back to a private room. They stripped. Lena dropped her bra and sighed as the straps left red lines. "These things are killing me," she muttered, cupping her breasts, lifting the weight off her collarbones. "Back, neck, everything hurts. But everyone keeps saying I should love them because guys do." Her mouth tightened. "I just want them smaller if that’s what I need. Not because somebody else likes them bigger." Evelyn’s hands warmed the oil. As her palms slid across Lena’s warm skin she admitted, voice low, "I think they’re beautiful, honestly. But it’s your body." Lena felt the words settle somewhere deep. She turned, looked Evelyn in the eye, and whispered, "Right now? What I want is you." Evelyn leaned in; their mouths met slow and deep, tongues sliding. Lena cupped Evelyn’s small tits, then lowered herself until her heavy breasts brushed over Evelyn’s slick folds. The glide made them both moan. Evelyn straddled one of Lena’s thighs and ground down; Lena’s slick nipple grazed Evelyn’s clit with every rock. They flipped—Evelyn between Lena’s spread legs, licking broad and slow until Lena’s thighs shook. Later Lena sat on Evelyn’s face, hips rolling, Evelyn’s tongue buried inside. They tasted each other until both came, soft gasps filling the warm room. Afterward, sweat cooling on skin, Lena kissed Evelyn’s collarbone and smiled against it. She still didn’t know about the surgery, but she knew she wanted Evelyn’s mouth on hers again.