I'll Have Some Breast Meat
We arrived early at my sister-in-law's house, mid-morning, for Thanksgiving, because my wife was going to help with some of the cooking. My mid-fifties SIL greeted me with a hug, and purely out of instinct I flattened my palm on her back and checked for a bra, even though at her age and this late in the day I just presumed she would be wearing one. But a rapid palm rub up and down her back over the thin fabric of her shirt made it clear that there was no bra.
The rest of her nuclear family, including her husband, were out doing chores, and so the three of us sat at the kitchen island for twenty or thirty minutes. With my eyes about two or so feet from her chest, I stared at her tight t-shirt, and found her nipples, a little lower than the last time I can recall seeing her this visibly braless, many years, perhaps decades, ago. Despite her age and some extra pounds and her hair tied back and no makeup, I really enjoyed the view. She's not particularly tall, maybe 5' 5", but I still surmised that her big heavy breasts (if she'd been wearing a bra it would probably be a 38D US) were an inviting sight. It would have taken two of my hands to fully grasp just one of her breasts, something I silently pondered while staring at them.
Finally my SIL went upstairs to get ready for the other guests, returning in something loose and casual, so when the rest of the guests arrived they did not get to enjoy the same view I had earlier.
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