low, heavy

“Bastard,” Carolyn said indignantly as she unbuttoned her silk blouse. “You’ll probably burn in hell for this.” His eyes watched her closely as she reached behind to unclasp her white lace brassiere. “I can’t believe I agreed to come, after what you’ve done.” Her breasts hung low, heavy as she pushed her skirt down.

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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