She stood back in the mirror for a few minutes, looking at herself. Her eyes were a clear, clever yellow. In the deepest part, treading the water to stay afloat. Gently she began to wash my breasts, and like magic, the nipples reared to attention and the tips tingled. It was possible. She stared at him, irises lengthening. Her tits were like fresh, golden dinner rolls swelling over the top of the soft material. And her instinct told her that is was his cock. Then she felt the tugging on her nipples as he gently stretched the chain and she gasped, while at the same instant the phallus slid fully into her and brushed the back of her throat, remaining but an instant, before gently withdrawing, pulling back from her entirely, slipping from between her lips and it was gone. In spite of my predicament, my eyes wandered to her bosom.