Elizabeth: Rachel likes her huge boobs

Rachel felt no hesitation in mumbling, “Elizabeth! Sorry girls, it’s definitely Elizabeth. I like her boobies.”

She burst out laughing at her use of the word “boobies.”

“More trouble than they’re worth,” Elizabeth blushed.

“No, but seriously! I wish I had boobies like those! I’m only a couple inches shorter than you and look at the difference—”

Rachel cupped her own modest breast with one hand, then reached out and brazenly cupped one of Elizabeth’s massive tits with her other. I shot Rachel a suspicious eyebrow—

“You just did that as an excuse to feel Elizabeth up, didn’t you?”

“All in the name of science!”

Then, and I forget who it was—probably Stephanie—but one of the girls suggested that the best way to compare would be for Rachel to put on Elizabeth’s bra. We all laughed at the idea, so Elizabeth stripped off her huge bra from under her tank top and handed it to Rachel. In the name of science.

I was too buzzed to even consider being a gentleman while all this was going on, and openly ogled the sight of Elizabeth’s epic hooters swinging unrestrained beneath her shirt.

Rachel snapped on the bra and then peeled of her top—revealing the hilarious disparity between her nice, perky boobs and the enormous, practically empty bra cups covering them. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a rosy little nipple above the top of the borrowed bra before Rachel readjusted herself.

Rachel asked if the rest of us had five or six pairs of socks to spare for padding.

“What I wanna see now,” I joked, “Is Elizabeth wearing one of Rachel’s bras.” That earned me a dismissive nudge in the ribs from my voluptuous snuggle buddy, but everybody else cheered the idea. Elizabeth turned deep red.

“Problem is, I don’t really wear bras,” Rachel answered.

“Better still!”

I got another elbow for that.

“But I guess she could wear the shirt I sleep in. That would look pretty funny.”

My cock twitched against Elizabeth’s soft ass and she pointedly rolled her eyes. “Okay,” Elizabeth sighed, “But I’m not gonna be the only one. Everybody has to wear somebody else’s bra and underwear for the rest of the night!”

With the warm glow of **** in our blood, everyone agreed to the idea, and we split off to our rooms to change. I didn’t figure that it would be a big deal wearing a pair of Simon’s shorts—he was only a tiny bit shorter and thinner than I was. But I frowned when he reached into his suitcase and pulled out a clean pair of tightie-whiteys.

“Dude, don’t you have any boxers?”

Simon shrugged. It wouldn’t have really mattered to me, except that his underwear, already pretty snug on him, was REALLY tight on me. So, while Simon got to enjoy the comfort and modesty of my baggy cotton shorts, I would be parading around in a pair of white nylon briefs that clung to my package like a second skin. I knew that if I got a hard-on—entirely possible under the circumstances—my dick would poke out up above the waistband in full view of everyone.