She was built the way a woman should be: shapely, with large breasts, plump lips, tiny waist, and rounded hips and ass.

The swell of well developed breasts peeked from a tank top that might have looked suggestive on someone else.

When her breasts were finally released, she knew a moment of panic that they had gone too far.

Ten minutes later, Lydia Larkin answered her door dressed in very tight and very small white shorts with a red elastic thing that covered only her breasts and nothing of the acres of skin in the middle.

He touched her face and trailed a finger down her neck, between her breasts, and rested his hand on her stomach.