Jennifer Tilly Boobs Novels & Stories

Justin rumbled deeply. As she unclipped her bra, her breasts surged forward without any real sag. She pulled it off assuredly knowing that her boobs were possibly her best features, large and plump and creamy-skinned with high and relatively small red nipples. Within seconds she had taken off her thong and stood hands on hips ready for Justin's inspection. "Is my body OK?" she asked, Justin stood and walked around her awkwardly, carefully studying her beautiful figure. "Are those breasts real? They seem too good to be true," he said incredulously.

Kylie said. "Hey now, my ass is big." I started to say as I was looking at my dresser mirror. "But my tits their only a 44 C." I said as I put my hands on my chest. "There's no fucking away your a 44 C?" Hailey said as she put her hands on my tits then hers. "Fuck, their more than a hand full. I can cuff mine just fine yours I can barely close my hand over them." She said laughing a little.

"Mamma Mia!" Nonna chided, stroking the thin lines of defeat on her forehead. "Suck it in, Lily!" Lilliana pulled her stomach in, clenching her abdominal muscles. She looked like she was holding a pee that was about to break out at any moment. "I can't possibly suck my boobs in!" she wheezed out, pulling her lips together in a tight line. The white corset caged her ample breasts together, and they nearly jumped out, unable to take the confinement.

Taylor's brief vengeful look dissolved into a mere smirk. "Yeah, Abbie. Tell me again how 'thick thighs save lives,' track star." She tossed her discarded tank top into a nearby locker, and Abbie did the same with hers. It was almost funny -- the two both had such incredible bodies, but their sports bras couldn't do shit to contain those breasts of theirs. Taylor's responded to the pressure by lifting up and pushing straight out, bulging like playdough squeezed in a toddler's hands. Abbie's were simply too big for spandex alone to stop, a visible gap showing on the underside where the sheer mass of her was threatening to pop the thing off altogether.

Softer. My chest tightens, not with muscle but, oh shit, boobs? I collapse, gasping, and when I open my eyes, Ardyn, Kaelen, and Zane are staring, jaws dropped. I look down. No more Cillian’s lean, chiseled frame. Instead, curves, my curves. My real body: softer hips, breasts straining against a too-tight shirt (Cillian’s, comically oversized now), and no cock, just the familiar warmth of my female core.

Melissa looked at her mirror image as she was getting dressed. She viewed her profile, then her ass, and then she smiled. She was hot. She'd lost 20 lbs and she loved her new figure. All of a sudden she didn't have that layer of fat, but her body was toned and her tummy was flat. Unfortunately it had affected her boobs. Where she used to wear D-cups she now only needed C-cups, but the good news was that they weren't sagging much. At the age of 33, having given birth twice, she still had remarkably firm tits, something she thanked her genes for. Her mother still had very firm boobs for a 60-year old so Melissa looked forward to the future.

He didn't reply. Instead he finished unwrapping her chest. It took every millimeter of self-control he could muster to keep a poker face. Sure, there was a lot of healing to do, but he could already tell his sister's new boobs were fantastic. Great, add this to her beautiful face, impossibly long legs and glorious tush. Jess had just piled on one more ridiculously hot thing about her for him to try not to think about. Her new breasts were large, gravity-defying teardrops. They sat a little high right now, but when they settled in she would be ready for a centerfold.

Her too-small frame and those shy little looks she probably doesn’t even know she gives. I groan and drop an arm over my face. My pecs are bigger than her boobs. This should not be happening. Still, I slide my hand under the covers. Just to take the edge off. Just to clear my head. I try again. Curves. Boobs. Models in lingerie. Women with pouty lips and fake tan lines. And then—Jennie. Jennie giggling at her own joke. Jennie licking frosting off her finger. Jennie looking up at me like I hung the goddamn stars.

Her t-shirt had ridden up, revealing a pale expanse of her soft and round belly. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. He knelt beside the bed, his hands reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. She lifted her arms, allowing him to pull it over her head. Her bra, a sturdy white garment, was stretched tautly across her enormous breasts, which spilled over the top and sides. Her nipples, large and dark, pushed against the fabric. He stared, captivated. “Fuck, Eleanor,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe. “You’re incredible.”

I worked every hour as a mechanic while Jilly went back part-time at an accountant’s office as soon as she could. I didn’t mind her weight gain, but Jilly hated it. When we met she was a slim size 12 with perky 34B tits and 34-inch hips. By 1999 she was a thick size 16, sporting massive 38EE tits and a big, fat, wobbly arse that I couldn’t get enough of. I was in heaven as a dedicated tit man, but she despised her body no matter what I said. Diets never worked the way she wanted.