“Most of the time I can put away that little girl who girl who poured herself into a diary that fed her fears. Sometimes though, especially when I�...�m alone, she calls out to me, and I can’t help but hear her. When I do, all the old insecurities come back. Let’s face it, I’m no Fleur Delacour. I’m freckly, I’ve got hips like a barn, I’m more than a hand’s breadth taller than you are. In a few years, there are going to be flocks of girls who are younger and prettier than I am. Maybe then. She leaned down to kiss his glans, licked away the final drop of his cum, and smiled up at him as she began to massage his cum into her breasts. It was hot, and thick, and felt delightful on the skin. But that was not the reason she put on such a display. It was to see the boy’s entranced gaze, that she took the time to spread the thick fluid over her breasts, under them, between them, and massage the white into her skin. With both hands, she cupped the undersides of her heavy bosom, and worked. More

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