Avoid any improprieties; let her sleep.

You decide that's it's probably just an accident waiting to happen, and while it might feel nice at the moment to have your hand "accidentally" caressing Sarah's huge tits, it would probably not sit well with the other two women who are both awake and reading. Sarah's head eventually falls on your shoulder, and her right breast jiggles enjoyably as she shifts, getting comfortable. What are friends for? you think. You glance over at Emily and Beth, but do take some considerable amounts of time staring into Sarah's deep cleavage. You realize you have no idea if she's dating someone, and you glance over her head to see Emily taking a picture on her phone. You roll your eyes, and thankfully the attendant offers you something to drink. The wine is tempting, but your coworkers keep you in check.

Sarah wakes up, and apologizes, obviously embarrassed. You wave it off, actually enjoying what seems to be genuine shame. You do take pity on Sarah after a moment, and she sighs. When the attendant drops off the drinks and goes back she leans over. "I hope you at least got a good look," she says, winking. You feel yourself glance down and can't help but take a look down her shirt. You sigh and look up and she smiles. "We even, perv?" she laughs, but makes no move to cover her shirt or her cleavage.

The rest of the flight is pretty uneventful, though you do continue to glance down Sarah's shirt when your positive no one else is looking. The plane lands smoothly, and you all clamber out to rent the car. As you move through the airport, you lag behind a bit, and you feel a bit bad, but mostly do it to watch Emily's ass through her yoga pants. You're pretty positive that Emily does Yoga, and her body seems to bear that out. Her ass is taut, round, and gently protrudes from her lower back. You realize that Emily's dressed at work to avoid the leers your giving her right now. Sighing, you try to keep your eyes up, watching Beth's hair bouncing, but your eyes are often drawn back to Emily's tight posterior.

When you get to the rental car counter, a young man glances at you all, asks for a name. Beth, who's been taking care of the travel arrangements secures a ridiculously practical car and Emily immediately volunteers to drive. "I know the area," she says. "Who wants shotgun?" Emily asks.