I found the tie at the back of her halter top and untied it. She backed away and allowed it to fall to the floor in front of her, barring her breasts to me for the first time. I moaned with lust at their beauty. This was no frustrated anorexic exercise freak. This was a healthy adult woman who respected her body enough to take care of it and who also had a great body to begin with. Her breasts were perfect. They projected straight out from her chest without any hint of sag. While obviously well supported by underlying muscle, they were not the breasts of a body builder. Her light brown areolae were capped with nipples which stood out from the surrounding flesh like the tips of small fingers.

She allowed my inspection to continue for a few moments, and then, "My turn," she said, pulling my t-shirt out of my jeans and over my head. We embraced once more, each gasping as our flesh met skin to skin for the first time. Her nipples, hardened with arousal, dug into my flesh like two points of flame. We kissed again and my hands were all over her back, stroking, kneading, caressing.