There it was. Unrolled, on the floor, and with evidence of use all over it.For a moment, I contemplated going right back to sleep, but a romantic urge...struck me. Quietly, I slipped out of bed, pulled on some shorts, and headed for the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth, removing the disgusting hangover breath, and splashed some water on my face. A quick touch up with my razor, and then I moved to the kitchen.Jess had left a few plates, as well as enough utensils for a single person to survive. The most notable difference and one I was painfully self conscious of, was the size of their tits. Both of them were wearing little tank tops and their more than ample tits were all but falling out of them. We were sitting cross legged on my bed and the way they were leaning toward me had those tits on full display. I looked down at my own very small, but perky little tits, and sighed. My first real boyfriend had referred to them as cute. He'd meant well, but I always felt embarrassed and. More

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