#15341 - She was wearing a simple t-shirt, a logo from one of the centaur racing teams on the front, the curve of the shirt following the curve of her breasts, full and prominent, the shirt stretched so tightly around them that he was pretty sure he could see the outline of a bra, the shirt trailing down over the thickness of her figure. Worst case scenario he knew, at least he’d at least get laid. She knew she was a big girl, something especially odd among a typically fit race and despite her unashamed confidence, she had always been self-conscious about her weight, to be with someone that not only didn’t mind her plushness but actively seemed to enjoy it made her hearts flutter.
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