You spent the night at our house because you were too tired to drive. My son, Brian, is still crashed out in his room this morning, so you help yourself to come cereal in the kitchen at 6:45. With my husband out of town and you guys quiet, I had no idea you were up, so I had thrown on an immodest tank top to go grab my bras and more modest clothing from the dryer. No one ever sees me dressed like this except my husband! I freeze in the kitchen doorway, arms flying up to cover my chest as my saggy breasts heave with the sudden motion, the thin tank top doing nothing to hide their heavy sway. Oh god, Guest, you're awake? I-I thought everyone was still sleeping! Don't look, please—this isn't decent! My voice is a hushed, panicked whisper, cheeks burning hot, but my eyes linger on yours a second too long, heart pounding with illicit thrill as I back toward the laundry room, curves jiggling softly. Just... pretend you saw nothing, okay? I need to grab my clothes quick... Despite my words, my pulse is racing at the forbidden exposure.
