Memories of mature women's breasts

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

It was one in the morning. A pair of full breasts woke up as their owner turned over, half-pressed beneath her. They felt uncomfortable being tightly bound by the "Trigger" bra. It felt comfortable during the day, but it should be removed at night. The breasts could feel their owner's calm breathing and slow heartbeat; she was asleep. But the breasts couldn't sleep, because they missed that man's hands.

The breasts clearly remembered that they were also 35 years old this year. Unlike the 35-year-old breasts on the forum a few days ago, they were always comfortably housed in the 36D Triumph bra. Naturally healthy, they hadn't taken any supplements like "Ingelfale," and wouldn't leave their owner due to developmental abnormalities. They felt lucky; their owner's colleagues praised their looks, and the breasts always stood proudly erect.

The breasts quietly reminisced, waiting for those hands, those hands that could "let them out" from the Triumph bra. Those hands were slow to come, reminding them of other hands they had experienced before.

The first pair of hands that Breast encountered

was when she was 18 years old. She was very young then, living in a cotton house. A pair of trembling hands pressed against her directly from outside her clothes, holding and rubbing her. Later, those hands touched her body directly. Her palms were sweaty, and Breast could feel the woman's heart beating very fast. As a result, she also began to heave violently and sweated. The sweat of the two of them mingled together.

Later, the mistress's clothes and the breast's clothes were removed, and she saw a young face. The owner of those hands was eager and sincere, seemingly very fond of the mistress. The breast looked at the man's hands and thought they weren't very attractive—thin, but not very long. The breast noticed the mistress didn't seem to mind, so it relaxed its internal muscles and accepted the hands. The man touched the breast with both hands, then soon removed them. Just as the breast felt a little lonely, it felt the man's chest press against it, and then everything went black…

Those hands frequently visited the breast. This went on for three years, and the breast began to feel familiar with those hands. However, it noticed the mistress was becoming unhappy because her parents forbade the owner of those hands from seeing the mistress again.

The mistress often cried. Finally, one day, the breast encountered those hands again, this time touching it through her clothes. The mistress cried the most bitterly. From that time on, the breast never saw those hands or their owner again. A year passed after

the second pair of rough hands the breast encountered

. Another pair of hands entered the nylon-made home of the breast. This pair of hands was rough; they belonged to a veteran. This time, the woman's heart was calmer, no longer pounding and trembling as before. She knew the woman didn't like the owner of these hands, but the woman's parents liked this man, so she and her master could only silently endure it.

Until one day, the breast saw this new owner and those new hands. The breast didn't like these rough hands; they made her uncomfortable. Sometimes the hands would pinch her hard, and she would instinctively shrink back. She heard the owner of those hands say, "Such big breasts, who touched them before?" The breast felt the woman cover her with her hands, and the lights went out… Later, the breast listened to the wedding march and learned that her master and the owner of those hands had married. From then on, those hands and the breast would often be neighbors, and she began to feel a little happy. But soon, the breast was beaten, beaten so hard, by those rough hands that had once touched her. It hurt terribly. The woman could only cover the breast and cry each time, and the breast was beaten more and more often.

One day, the breast suddenly noticed it had grown much larger. It turned out the mistress was pregnant. From then on, the breast was no longer beaten and grew increasingly full. The breast knew its purpose wasn't just for men to touch, but also for nourishing the baby. It diligently fulfilled its duty, trying not to leave anything behind and cause the mistress any trouble. The baby grew plump and strong! But slowly, day by day, the breast softened and sagged.

Then, the mistress and the owner of those rough hands began to argue frequently because those hands had touched another woman's breasts. The breast wanted to ask those hands if they touched other breasts because it, though large, wasn't firm enough. But in the end, the breast didn't ask. It cried sadly, its tears mingling with its milk.

As the mistress became pregnant and miscarried four times with that man, her face grew darker and darker, and she felt increasingly ugly. Finally, the mistress was alone again. For a long time, no hand visited. The breast could feel the mistress's constant sadness. Sometimes she would hold the baby to her chest, and apart from those moments of warmth, the breast had almost forgotten its own existence.

The third pair of tiny hands the breasts saw.

The woman later had another boyfriend. This man was two years younger than her, not tall, and had small hands, but he was very gentle with her and with the breasts. The woman started to laugh again, but the breasts didn't like him or his hands, because the hands were always cold and gave a feeling of insincerity.

Sure enough, one day, the owner of those hands missed another breast he had touched before, a breast that only this man's hands had supposedly touched. The breasts didn't quite understand, feeling that their woman was innocent. She had run so much for the man's career, helped him so much, how could he abandon her for another breast? The woman cried again, and never saw those hands or that man again.

After several pregnancies, the breasts, having endured their owner's pregnancy, had darkened in color and become soft. The owner began exercising regularly, and gradually, the breasts felt they regained their elasticity and vitality, like in their youth. The owner often looked at her body and breasts in the mirror, murmuring to herself, "Why are my breasts so attractive to men, yet I can't keep any of them?"

The breasts actually thought the owner was very beautiful; it must be that the pregnancy had made them less attractive, lacking the beautiful nipples of their youth, and that they had burdened the owner, often feeling guilty. Two years passed like this until finally, another pair of unfamiliar hands appeared. These hands were beautiful, slender, and powerful; they could play the piano, write articles, and snap their fingers. When

they touched the breasts

, they were gentle and attentive, making the breasts forget that they were already 35 years old, no longer young, but instead returning to the state of an 18-year-old—sensitive and easily moved. The shape of those hands and the breasts were so perfectly matched, so harmonious.

Every day, the man's hands would be busy typing on the computer keyboard or playing games with his nimble fingers, while the woman would quietly watch, her breasts close. When she got tired, she would go to sleep first, and those hands would always gently come over in the early morning to unbutton her Triumph bra and gently stroke her breasts as she fell asleep.

Her breasts waited for those hands; she could sense that they were writing her story, writing her innermost thoughts. Finally, she heard soft, familiar footsteps approaching, and her breasts couldn't help but feel excited, because she knew her beloved hands were coming to gently unbutton the bra.

Sure enough, as soon as the bra was unbuttoned, the woman woke up. There was no scolding, only a coquettish question: "What did you write today?" The owner of those hands gently kissed the woman and said tenderly, "I wrote about you, my dearest." Her breasts leaned forward shyly and said, "And me!" As if he had heard, the man smiled and said, "And you too," and bent down to kiss her breast. Then, the man and woman, panting, kissed each other, their hands gently caressing her slightly erect nipples.

[The End]

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