Getting ready and going out

With the other girls already dressed, there was a major issue I was having. The new boobs didn’t fit into anything I had, at least not anything that would get drinks sent over to our table. Jenna might have been making a joke at using my tits for drinks, but honestly, I was excited to try.

There was only one thing left to do – ask for help. “Jenna, my tits are super swollen today, and nothing fits. Can I get a shirt from you?”

“What, first you keep secrets from me, and now you want to wear my clothes. Find, let me find something for you.”

It took her a minute or two, but she was soon tossing me a shirt. “This is super cute, it’s like half a corset, so you don’t even need a bra. Just put it on.”

Turning around, I quickly stripped off the latest shirt I was trying to make work and put her shirt on. She was right, it seemed more corset than shirt, with plastic bars running down the sides, underwire, and laces for the back. It was sexy as hell, a see-through mesh on the sides, and slick leather like feel for the front and back. Most of all, it fit, and pushes my already massive tits up even higher than normal.

“Damn girl, you do look like they have grown, and watch this.” Jenna quickly reaches behind my back and the feeling of the corset squeezing me intensifies as she pulls the laces a bit tighter.

“Ouch, what the hell, why are you doing that.”

“One more notch, we want these girls on display right, and this will help.” Her hands pulling the strings tighter before I can even reply. “Perfect, now you look like a proper hooker.” Damn, even that registered as a complement as the tingle crossed my body from her words.

“Ok, great, but now I can’t bend or move. At least I look good. The things we do for beauty.” Surprisingly the sarcasm didn’t register as a complement.

“Yeah luckily the red top goes with that black skirt really well. You look, um, pretty damn fuckable.” Brooklyn one to not mince words, or really knowing how to say them either. But it does give a chance to look over my petite roommate. She went with her go-to outfit, a tight black dress, barely covering her ass, and looking like it should be on a barbie, not a human. Where the dress ended high on her legs, most of the rest were covered by a pair of fishnets and 4” heels, bringing her nearly up to my height.

“Honey, with that dress on, why are you saying that I’m the one who is fuckable. You even have the heels to match.”

This was standard for Brooklyn though, she had no issue dressing up. Honestly, none of us did, but Brooklyn always liked to push herself through her clothes.

“Enough gawking at each other, let’s head out. There a new bar across town and I met the bartender last week, so we should be able to go there.” Jenna is surprisingly the least dressed up of the three, wearing a simple, flowing shirt blouse and khaki shorts. If it wasn’t for the fact you could tell there wasn’t a bra under that shirt and those shorts would barely count as underwear in some parts of the world, it would barely count as a going out outfit. But, she lays out the plans as we leave for our evening of bonding.

The night overall is actually fun. The bar was a bit quiet when we got there, but after a couple of drinks Jenna got from the blonde surfer dude behind the bar, the topics turned to less lady-like things. Namely Brooklyn, the lightweight of the group, upset that she hasn’t been laid in 3 weeks and her efforts to ‘break the streak’. However, she promised that this dress would end up on someone else’s floor tonight.

Three weeks and the girl is going crazy, no idea what she would think if she found out about my months long dry spell. Maybe that was the issue that pushed me into Pete’s room last night. Fuck, it was the first time I ever slept with someone without a proper date, much less a one night stand. It still wasn’t worth bringing up with the other two, they might not know how much of a prude I truly am, and I’m not helping them find out.

Jenna points out that she never has issues finding guys, and as if to prove it leaves to ‘pay’ for our drinks in other ways. That was one thing she is great at, going after what she wants. Even Brooklyn is better at it than me.

Being down the ‘leader’ of the group, it wasn’t long until a couple of guys joined us at the table. They kept the drinks flowing, but it was the constant comments on our outfits and bodies took my focus, their words starting to echo inside, and the feelings from them increasing. Lost in my own little world, it was Brooklyn and her cute but oblivious charm, keeping the guys around. As the music started to pick up, Brooklyn picked her guy, standing beside to lean into him rather than sit in a chair, ensuring her body made as much contact as possible.

But as she flirted with her current choice to get her dress off tonight, I turned to really look over the guy I get matched with. My body ached, and I quickly took a matching position with my boy, happy that his hand found its way onto my lower back. My body pressed against his chest, with the excuse of needing to lean in to hear. Josh, as his friend called him, was a junior at the college and was only out because he was playing wing-man for his buddy.

A snicker from me and hints of what Brooklyn was looking for, meant that both of our friends would likely get what they wanted tonight. Josh, wanting to ensure his friend had the best odds, pulled me to this other side, which not only gave him eye contact with his friend, but also allowed him to get his second hand on me.

As the music kicked up, the bar changed to a more of a club, with rocking music and it wasn’t long until the drinks helped me move to the music, wiggling within the grasps of my evening partner. His hands roaming a bit more freely, regularly leaving my skirt and running the length of my thigh.

By the third song, Josh pulled me out to the dance floor, and the dancing went straight to groping. It was obvious that the boy was a definite titty lover, as his words and fingers found themselves all over mine every chance he got, my mind struggling to figure out which was more pleasing.

Before the end of the song, his fingers working their magic on me, I wrap my arms around his head, pulling him in for a kiss. As our bodies pressed together, his hands returned to exploring my body, one finding a home on my lower back, the other under my skirt, groping my ass.

Breaking the kiss, I turn around, grinding my ass against him, hoping his hands return to my tits. However, my wish wasn’t fulfilled.