Rainboob Dash Incomplete

I like to think human Dash would have embarassingly huge breasts as well and she would constantly be tying them down to maintain a "streamlined" figure. But she'll never opt for reduction because she's proud of her body and what it can do.

 

>and what it can do

...l-like...?

 

>she takes a deep breath, thrusting her chest out and flexing

>you hear the audible tearing and snapping of linen wrappings underneath her shirt

>her shirt looks to be a little tighter on her now, soft and heavy masses pushing out against the fabric

 

MY DICK

do go on

 

>"I need to practice for the sprint relay."

>she leans forward to stretch her legs, the dark shadow of cleavage peaking out from beneath the low collar of her shirt

>"You wanna pass me a baton, big guy?"

 

...yes...

 

>you take a baton and start some dozen meters behind Dash, ready to hand off the baton after you pass her

>she starts running before you reach her, forcing you to pick up the pace and catch up

>god, you're really out of shape, why did you ever agree to this

>you're huffing and panting just to keep astride of her, while she looks like she's on a Sunday jog

>with a final push you speed forward, reaching out with the baton...

>"Anon, what are you doing?!"

>you find it jammed straight down the top of her shirt, pulling the fabric away to reveal rich swells of hitherto-unrevealed flesh

>you still grip it tightly, nervously driving it in deeper into that soft crevasse between her breasts

>time seems to slow down, and at her pace you can see every ripple, every jiggling bounce of her abundant bosom

>your heart is pounding and yet your head feels light, like your body is fighting to bring blood to two different places and failing

 

>you trip and lose your balance, hand still firmly gripping your baton until it gets caught against her shirt

>after a faceful of dirt and wishing for the world to stop spinning, you open your eyes

>to the very welcoming sight of two heaving globes of woman, swinging from Dash's chest and barely held in by her torn track shirt as she kneels over you

>"Hey, was I going too fast for you? You coulda said something! You're really out of shape, so don't push yourself too hard on my account. I know I'm the fastest there is."

>she smirks and pats you on the cheek, her tomboyish chuckle making her heavenly masses wobble

>she looks down to see your hand weakly reaching up to her chest

>"You really are a dork, you know that?"

>she grabs the baton from earlier and readily slides it in between her sweat-slicked mammaries, arms pressing them in from both sides

>she emits a single "Unf!", you hear a loud snap, and she shakes herself off to drop the two splintered pieces of the baton onto your head

>"That's why I like you!"

 

>she picks you up under your shoulders, dragging you across the track

>you can feel the unrestrained cushioning of her chest against the back of your head

>"Come on, time to cool off."

>you sit down to catch your breath on a nearby bench as she grabs a hose

>as she sprays herself down you feel alive again

>the rosy afternoon sun reflects off her wet prismatic hair, casting bright points of light across every drop and trickle of water that crawls and creeps down along the taut muscles of her neck, the perfectly carved edges of her collarbone, down down down over the vast expanse of her chest and around the curves of her breasts, a slight pool bubbling in the welcoming cleft between them

>the fabric of her clothes clings to her form, chiseled muscle rounded out by feminine curves, some entirely unfair incarnation of an athletic Venus tossing her hair and shifting her hips in the flattering light of a setting sun

>"You okay? You still look kinda spaced out. How about we shower at my place tonight? I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow."

>she says it so casually as she pulls back her hair, raised arms only serving to spill another inch of her girthy bosom out of her tattered shirt and whatever was left of her sports bra, and her breast bindings...

 

>Dash lives in a penthouse, and she insists on using the stairs

>your legs have no mouths and they must scream

>but still, you press on, especially as being a few steps behind her you get a full front-row... or back-row, as it were, view of her great and powerful ass, flexing and bending as she climbs steps two or three at a time

>you flop face-first into her couch, unable to walk any further

>"Guess that means I get the shower first! Help yourself to some beer in the fridge, I'll be right out."

>she isn't even fully around the corner in the hallway when you look up to see her bare bottom slipping out of her track clothes

>your ears perk up as you hear the wet slap of sweat-and-hosed-down clothing hitting the floor her as she enters the shower

>"Whew! My girls were aching to get outta there."

 

...well what are you waiting for?

sneak in after her!

 

>screw the beer, you want to sneak a look at those glorious unobstructed OH GOD YOUR LEGS

>peering through the crack in the bathroom door, you can see a steam-smeared mirror just barely giving off the reflection of Rainbow Dash through the shower stall's glass panes

>her back is turned to you, the wondrous hourglass and taut muscle of her shoulders, back, and glutes taunting you from behind wreathes of soapy suds and trickling water

>and the barest hint of sideboob spilling out on either side of her ribcage as she reaches her hands up to wash her hair

>you tumble through the door, overwhelmed by the sight and your inability to keep your balance today

>"What the hell, man!" Rainbow Dash spins around, barely able to cover herself with both arms, breasts and a hint of plump aureole spilling out over her forearm

>once again you have Dash lifting you up on your feet, but now she's completely naked and wet, the complete mass of her tits squashed against you as she holds you up firmly in her hands

>"You have too many beers or something?" She laughs, and it sounds like a chorus of angels

>"We should get you out of those clothes, not good to stay in that wet stuff too long, especially if you aren't feeling well."

>she begins to peel off your shirt

>You're sitting on the bathroom counter with a naked goddess undressing you, granting you the full acquaintaince of her chiseled and sinewy muscle balanced against thick womanly curves and the effervescent bounty of her breasts

>it's easy enough to guess what she's going to find when she digs her fingers under your shorts and pulls down

 

>amidst the running shower and your heavy breathing, you can barely hear the tiny *slap* your raging erection makes against her pendulous breasts

>"Hey, I thought I left the baton at the track!" Dash smirks, catching it in her powerful grip

>"Maybe I should show you a few things, hm?"

>you don't have to agree, she's literally got you by the balls as she pulls you into the shower stall with her, your legs wobbling a bit as you try to find purchase on the wet tile

>"See, the problem with you is you don't know how to keep rhythm. It all starts with your breathing technique."

>she's on her knees, arms reaching up to pin you against the wall tight enough that you're still standing even when your feet tire

>Dash doesn't do foreplay, no sir, that dick is gone, vanished, swallowed without a trace between her lips over her tongue, and down her throat

>she also does not do slow, ramming you down her mouth with a zest usually reserved for brushing teeth

>excited as you are, you try to remember what she said about breathing and keep yourself relaxed, sucking in deep breaths of hot, humid air as she goes to town on your dick

>how long has she been going at it? Is she even breathing? You don't know, and as long as she's giving you the most voracious and intense blowjob ever, you don't exactly care

 

>Dash retches and coughs loudly, the shower clearing away any unsightly spittle from her face as she pulls back to recover her breath

>"S-see? All about rhythm..." She brushes away strands of her iridescent hair and leans back, shaking her chest a little

>even the slightest motion from her sets her heavy breasts asway

>you decide to show her what you've learned about rhythm by squatting slightly OH GOD YOUR LEGS and grabbing what handfuls you can of her gorgeous knockers

>with flesh spilling out between your fingers and over your thighs, you begin to wildly and impatiently fuck her tits

>"Hold on, cowboy! It's not just about speed, you need precision, control... let me show you." She grabs your wrists and settles them at the sides of her bust as she supports herself from beneath, leaning forward into you and sliding you between her plush masses

>she's right, you can feel so much more of her like this, tender inches of her oversized orbs squishing against you, the head of your cock squeezing into the soft expanses and kissing her sternum

>Dash angles her self, letting you emerge just far enough for her to tilt her head down and lick at yours, the tip of her tongue dancing along your bottom edge

 

to be continued...