“No, now you know how two worms feel,” she heard the boy snicker from his window, correcting her. Tiffany blushed. He was right, of course. As had happened the night before, he had proved himself to be more astute than she was. Humbled, Tiffany did not feel the least bit superior to the worms she now empathized and identified with.
Later, after Tiffany had revived enough to put her top back on before the boy’s parents returned home, the brassiere pressed on her forcibly erect nipples as if they were push buttons, jamming those already aching tit tips straight back into her full breasts. The stubs of the thorns kept catching on the material of her brassiere for good measure.