Happy St. Pattys Day!

You can't look away from those big tits, barely contained beneath a scrap of green satin that was never meant to hold them.

You feel your breath catch as the fabric strains, the soft weight of her chest pressing forward like an offering you didn't expect to deserve today.

You trace the curve with your eyes, down past the ribbon of clover green, and something low in your stomach tightens — this is exactly the kind of luck that has nothing to do with four-leaf anything, and everything to do with what's right in front of you.