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It all starts with a not so innocent kissing game.

On each downward sweep they went nearer and nearer to where the swell of my breasts started.

I wanted her to stop, I was scared, this was wrong, I'm not a lesbian.

I wanted her to go on, I was becoming aroused, this was so right, I am a sexual creature.

My breasts felt so heavy, alive almost, it felt as though they were throbbing and pounding, certainly every square millimetre of the skin covering them was tingling.

Both sets of fingers went down to almost where my breasts started.

Stop, a part of me was screaming. Go on do more, other parts of me were demanding.

The fingers continued on their circles moving round and upwards away from my breasts. They moved slowly, so slowly to what was the top of their circle just beneath my collar bones and stopped. They pressed me there. And then excruciatingly slowly, but enticingly purposefully they began their downward journey. I think I was sighing, or groaning, but being 'blind and deaf' I couldn't be sure. I know I arched my back as they slithered millimetre by millimetre downwards. As they eased their way towards the places where I couldn't be sure whether I would welcome or reject them, I think I pushed my breasts, outward. Was that an acceptance on my part of what she seemed to be proposing or was it an invitation? Indeed, could she even see my arched back and thrusted breasts? And then it occurred to me, what had happened to the front of the robe? Was it still covering me, or had it slipped down and bared my boobs? I couldn't tell, I didn't know and, so incredibly I suddenly realised, I didn't care.

I was panting and biting my lips as they touched that place where my boobs flare out from my upper chest, as they stroked and caressed the slightly puffier flesh and as they ran slowly over those more sensitive areas of my body flesh. It felt so good, so stimulating, arousing and tempting. They didn't stay there long and they repeated the journey that had filled me with such a dichotomy on their last circling on my chest; away, sideward, upwards, pausing then moving down again.

I knew that this time they would not stop before they reached my boob. The questions consuming my mind and exhilarating my entire body were how far would they go, how far did I want them to go and how far would I let them go? I wasn't sure, but I got the answers very quickly.

Leea slid her fingers very slowly onto the start of the swell of each boob. She stopped, she pressed and she rubbed me softly. Was she looking for my reaction? Was she checking whether I was up for this or whether I would reject her 'advance?' I didn't know. I knew I could wriggle or slightly turn my body or even say stop. I had those options, they were at my disposal. I could reject her; I could turn down her advance and say no thanks to her invitation. It would be easy to do, logistically that is, but maybe not emotionally or physically. I could do it, but both my mind and my body were now in tune. My entire being was reaching a decision as I felt her fingertips softly touching my breasts three or four centimetres onto their fullness. They were still enquiring, they had not gone the whole hog, they hadn't taken anything for granted and they were still extending their invitation and requesting permission to proceed. I could move, say something or push her hands off with no loss of face by either party. I could do that; I could stop her going further. On the other hand I could whimper please, I could ask her to go further, I could say 'please caress my breasts.' I could in theory, but in practice that was far too forward for me. There was another way, another option, another action I could take. And I chose that. I did nothing. I simply sat there with her fingers making small circles on my breasts about half way towards my nipples. She understood, she got my message, she realised that I would not stop her, but that I could not overtly encourage her. She picked up on the vibes, but then that was her job, her skill and her responsibility.

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