Diary: Divine Beginnings?
Britney’s Diary - Jan 12th, 2026
Work dragged today, stuck in back-to-back Teams calls that forced me into this flimsy white blouse, regret gnawing at me the whole time. No bra, though; fuck that. My heavy tits swung free underneath, nipples rubbing against the thin fabric, hardening into stiff peaks that poked right through like they owned the show. Every shift in my chair sent them jiggling, a constant reminder of what I craved: bare skin, eyes devouring me.
Meeting wrapped at noon, and I bolted up, expecting that hot delivery guy with my package. That familiar knock echoed, playful skip to the door, tits bouncing wildly, straining the buttons. Yanked it open, heart racing... but no parcel. Instead, this fresh-faced kid, barely 20, suit crisp as a Bible page, tie choking his neck. Eyes slammed straight to my chest, locking on the braless swells outlined sharp against the blouse, dark shadows of areolas teasing through. He flushed crimson, Adam’s apple bobbing, but couldn’t tear away from my majestic rack heaving with my breath.
