It was a Saturday night; you had a bag slung over your shoulder. The strap angled down between your breasts and the weight of the bag meant that your top was pulled tight over the contours of your body. Looking at you that night, I had an epiphany. Lust surged through me as I was transfixed by the sight of your big breasts jutting out.
After a nice dinner and a movie we played pool at a bar. We were flirting with each other. I kept moving my body against yours, trying to show you that I was ready for more then just flirting around. Things were starting to get loud at the bar so I asked if you'd like to go somewhere else. You told me that you thought it was time to head home anyway. When we got to your house, on a quiet street, we parked under a tree and began to talk. After about half an hour of chitchat, the conversation turned to love, lust and sex. We talked about our recent relationships and the way we both couldn't seem to find someone decent.
"It's harder for me though," you said.
"Why?" I asked.
"Look at me," you said, a trifle bitterly.
"You're beautiful." I told you.
"Just my face? Or my body too?"
"Well," I said hesitantly, "I can say your face with certainty. But I've only caught glimpses of your body. And I've gotta say, those glimpses leave me wanting more."
"Really?" you ask, a touch of color creeping into your face.
I told you about how I'd felt when I'd seen your top stretched over your body, the instant rush of desire that had overwhelmed me. You still didn't seem convinced, so I leaned over and kissed you. You responded with such passion I was surprised. You later told me that you wanted me for a while before that night, and in the lust that was released in that first kiss, I saw that.