She frowned, not pleased with me until I continued the kiss, and held her ass two-handed again, tighter in case she needed comfort. Then I shuffled my hands up through fabrics, past woolly jumpers, a silk shirt and a cotton vest, to get at her bare skin. Svitlana sighed, happy to be touched directly though she sucked in her tummy when I passed her hips.
She forgot those vanities when I reached, held and squeezed her breasts. They were firm, and high, and I could not fit either in one hand. Not entirely.
I said, “My god,” with my hands filled, stroking, squeezing, and giving special attention to her rubbery nipples, large and apparently very sensitive. Svitlana closed her eyes, taking the praise and the attention as her due. We stood there for a long time, paying attention to Svitlana’s breasts in our different ways, sharing our breath. Eventually I dropped my hands, reluctantly. “Bed. Come to bed.”
She didn’t seem unhappy. She had the same expression she’d had when she’d said I was a silly man.
I said, “What? Problem? What?”