When I was 13, my mother took me to the store, where I was picked up not a simple cotton bra, but a real lace miracle.
“Wow,” the saleswoman snapped, looking at my full fourth size, “the girl is held like stone, the support is not really needed.”
“Without support, the stones will sag,” my mother reasonably remarked, and smiled, admiring my happy physiognomy.

The family is not rich, they rarely spoiled me, so this purchase was a special milestone in my teenage fate. On the one hand, I felt like a grown-up girl.
Pff, it is not a shame any more to change clothes on physical culture and to catch mocking glances of girlfriends, thrown on the gray washed-up rags that serve as linen.
On the other hand...
The lace fabric has surprisingly increased the sensitivity of my and so tender nipples. I was walking, and they seemed to stroke and caress me, rubbing me to a strange thrill in my stomach.
That year I first started to caress myself in the bathroom. And for the first time, I didn’t throw away the hand of a classmate, who squeezed my chest in a dark passage after a chemistry lesson.

It was terribly exciting, but then equally embarrassing.
I didn’t even like the boy, but he continued to catch me down the corridors, but I could not find the strength to resist the breathless wave of languor and trembling caused by his greedy hands on my chest.
“Tits,” he whispered in my ear, “and the legs were so weak that they had to lean on the wall.” The touches gave an amazing sweetness, which ran from the compressible tops of the breasts all over the body. A classmate supported my quietly sighing carcass with one hand, and the other climbed into the collar of the dress and, hurrying, snorting, felt the non-children's volumes of my hills. The sweetness we shared furtively.

A week later, a friend told me that bad rumors were circulating at school.
I cried, thought, clenched my teeth and made an important decision to move to another, specialized school.
There, I began to wear baggy dresses that were completely closed, in which I looked not so much skater as shapeless. And she no longer put on the lace beauty that woke me so early.

Time passed, calm and thorough, under complete control. At 18, I carefully received the first sex from a casual acquaintance at the club. It was nice, then it hurt a little, then I sent the guy. Felt amazingly free and easy, you know how to get rid of a long-standing illness. Close contact did not hurt and did not break me, hip-hip. I am not that limp doll from the dark school corridor, now the guys can't do anything to me. So, proudly straightening my shoulders, I entered adult life.

And suddenly, a year ago, already 19 years old, the ghost of my weakness, unfortunately, returned again. Cry my heart, cry.
All the fault was the banal faculty party before the New Year. I did not dance, the guys were not interested in my gray robes and forever downcast face, everything is wonderful. But then the devil pulled me to sit on the sofa next to the dormant stranger guy.
Second and I'm in the arms. Dude just grabbed me, leaned, buried in the neck, and ... again puffed. The mood was good, I could not refrain from giggling, and tried to carefully get out of an unexpected "contact close degree."

Where there. This over-drunk fruit wrapped me with an iron grip on my hands, and I was alarmed by my wriggling, and stroked soothingly.
A warm hand went through one of my naturally generous roundness. Froze. And repeated the path. I gasped. It was such a bliss, as thousands of needles bummed pleasure from the chest into the lower back and up to the buttocks.
The stranger listened attentively to my moan, and opened his eyes that were not already clouded by sleep.His hands began a smooth and rhythmic movement, just up and down. Before touching the clavicle and again in a wave, disturbing the nipples, and diving under the chest.

The brain just turned off, the control was completely blown away, I did not even have time to curse the champagne drunk in the evening, and my treacherous body. A few heartbeats, and I already pressed my back to the guy, and with my head thrown back over my shoulder, I moaned plaintively. The stranger turns us to a dark window, sideways from the dancers, kisses on the neck.

His fingers undo the buttons of the gate. He obviously doesn’t like the dense fabric of linen, so he confidently deftly unhooks the hooks. No kidding, with one finger movement and through the fabric.

Having years of experience, I can’t. Tyz and unzipped. "Magic" - I think I'm not disconnected last brain cell.
Both hands of the stranger immediately returned to the front, smeared on the skin that had been liberated, and were already firmly holding their breasts.
Music plays, people have fun, and we sit by the far wall on the couch, huddling like Siamese twins, not divided.

He no longer strokes, but rather pulls. Poddivaet fingers, clasping, and then squeezing to the papilla and forward it. Again on the chest and to the nipple. Forward.
I am no longer there, quiet moans and weak squeals when I hang on the papillae. I pull my hands forward, breathing ragged.
- Hot, - whispers, - what are you hot, baby.
And he pushes me, he pushes me with his body into the corner of the sofa, to the window itself. Pulling on my breasts my limply moaning body.
While he is catching a heavy curtain to cover us from the rest, I see in the faded lantern lighting from the street, my two large swinging breasts and protruding elongated and for some reason bright red nipples. Then one of the nipples is grabbed by stiff fingers, and a crazy euphoria again covers me.
I look out the window, our backs are covered with a heavy curtain, and my heart beats in scarlet swollen nipples.

The stranger lifts me up like a doll, lifting my hips, forcing me to lean on the side of the sofa. Tightens the hem of the dress and rummaging with fingers under the shifted panties.
Movement, hot search between the bodies, and in me enter. Jerk. Piercing pleasure from crown to tip of heels.
Yy - I give out arching. My insanely distorted face is reflected in the glass, and twitching breasts protruding like uncovered guns. At the shoulder a disheveled head grows, the guy examines me for a couple of seconds.
Exhales hoarsely. And enough for the nipples, causing already familiar to him the reaction series of pitiful moans.
“Here is a clever man,” he says, rather, “we are quiet, nobody will notice.”

And thighs, causing a wave of heat and humidity in the already developed womb.
- Come on baby.
Forward tuck in the nipples, and push the hot member inside. Still. And sweetly whines all the intestine. Like this. And at the reverse movement, my wet pussy soaks up.
He moves to a broken butting, literally pushing me, pushing the vagina. Our window shakes, the curtains burst into tears.
I scrape the armrest of the couch with my nails and rise to the heavens.
Where there is only a thick strong member and hard fingers on the tips of my breasts.

- Hrr - exhales partner.
- Oo - I give out. And we start to shake. On the hips flow the juices of our orgasms.
Beat the chimes.

(that's how it began)