It’s the little things that ruin you, isn’t it? My massive tits bouncing and jiggling right in your face, daring your hands to reach out and fail. You’ll never really feel them sliding through your fingers, never taste or smell how perfect I am, but you will imagine every slick, heavy motion as I rub them in your face.
That aching is deliberate, designed to keep you on edge and fully aware of your place beneath me. Stroke for my breasts, submit to the torment of wanting, and let the jiggle remind you who you belong to.