"Leave them on the table."

"Leave them on the table," you breathe, and Sarah smiles. She gives her bust another shake, causing each breast to roil under the shirt.

"I gotta know. Is this for her or you?" Sarah teases, but gleefully watches your gaze get lost in her expansive cleavage. You shrug, trying to not show how much her brazen display is getting to you. You imagine even in that moment that you are failing miserably. Sarah doesn't seem ready to let it go.

"Do you like them like this?" she asks, her tone more even. "All splayed out on the table. I'd say like offerings, but I can imagine someone like you being a bit more creative." You feel yourself tense, and there must be a visible reaction as Sarah's face breaks into a smile. She chuckles, and likely unwittingly, sends more ripples through her laid out breasts.

Your eyes flicker between her face and her cleavage and she gives you a sincere smile. Her hand snakes out across the table to take yours. "You really are a sweet guy," she whispers. "I'm very lucky to have you." You grin back at her, and feel her hand squeeze gently. Her eyes flicker down to her cleavage.

"But you never answered my question," she teases. She pulls back, letting her breasts rest nonchalantly on the flat surface. You marvel at them once more, your eyes tracing the curve of each spread globe of flesh and noticing the faintest outline of her nipples hardening against the fabric, managing to poke through the admittedly flimsy bra material. She leans her head forward to catch your gaze again.

"It's for you, isn't it?" she asks. You can't believe it, but you feel your face flush, and she gives a light, tinkling laugh; you realize that you're so used to hearing her joking laughter that her genuine laugh is both surprising and delightful. You also realize that she's not teasing you, and as she sends another shake of her massive breasts across the table, she shakes her head.

"It's like we're fucking made for each other," Sarah whispers. Her eyes flicker behind you. "Remember what I said about wearing a bra at the house?" she reminds you. She waits for the memory of the conversation to register on your face before continuing. "Now imagine me at breakfast tomorrow," she teases. You take a deep, calming breath, trying to maintain some sense of control. She sticks her tongue out gently. "I can take care of you before breakfast so you don't lose it at the table," she promises. Your mind is swimming when Cindy arrives.

"Here's your order," Cindy announces to Sarah's cleavage. "One Miso Ramen bowl," she says, and she swallows as a **** of will turns her to you. "One Yaki Udon bowl," she says. Cindy turns immediately back to Sarah, trying to meet your girlfriend's eyes. As you glance at the cashier's face, you almost feel bad for witnessing such a spectacular failure.

"Can I get you anything else?" Cindy asks, and you're almost positive it is the countless repetitions of the phrase that allow her to actually get the question out. Sarah shakes her breasts a bit as she looks up.

"I think we're good, Cindy," Sarah says. "But I'm curious if there's anything you want, now." You're trying to figure out how you're supposed to react as Sarah stares up at Cindy, a sultry look coming from directly above her pale, gently quivering flesh.

Cindy swallows, and you're left with an opportunity to speak.