“Do you think I need a bra?”

Joan looked like this, basically. I mean, at least her torso did.

Joan visited me at the shop where I work the other day, looking very nice. She stops by often, I suspect to flirt with me, although she appears to be in her late thirties. But like I said, she looks very nice.

“Hey there B, how’s it going?” She asked, perky as usual.

“Great, Joan. And you?” I said, really noticing how nice she looked, fresh and pert with her dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “You look great today, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks. So sweet. I usually wear dresses in the summer, but I thought I’d try this top out today. What do you think?” The top was a thin cotton lavender tank top-ish kind of thing with some elastic business in the neck area that made it scrunch between her breasts. Basically unremarkable, except for the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra — and her breasts were quite remarkable. I gazed at her chest, pretending to formulate an opinion about her top.

“I think it looks great on you. Very summery.”

“But do you think I need a bra with it? I mean, am I showing too much?”

“No, it’s very nice this way. I think the liberated look is in. It’s very sexy.” I said. Her breasts looked great. They’re probably c-cups, firm and buoyant for her age, and through the thin cotton I could see her puffy round nipples.

“But I’m afraid I bounce around too much. Here, watch when I walk.” She walked over to the door and back again, her breasts bouncing and swaying under the top. I watched purely out of concern for her image as her nipples traced separate patterns around the cotton.

“It’s not that noticeable,” I lied. If I had seen her on the street I probably would have tripped over myself.

“Oh you’re sweet. I won’t worry about it. I feel sexy, anyway.” She laughed, her face lit up and she slayed me with a sultry gaze from her big blue eyes. Maybe I imagined that, but she slayed me nonetheless.

You are the sexiest woman I have ever seen, I wanted to say. Take me to your apartment and fuck me. I will kiss your breasts while you pull me deeper inside you. I want to feel your milky skin against my body. I want to feel your nipples harden between my lips.

“You should feel sexy,” I said. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Thanks B. If you keep talking like that I’m gonna take you home with me.” She smiled softly.

B

On stage, showing off her ass

Gotta love American Apparel girls

Today I stopped into an American Apparel in Brooklyn to innocently try on some shorts. The store used to be a theater, and the extremely clever designers decided to put the dressing rooms on the stage. (Dressing rooms might be a slight overstatement; they’re more like small enclosures of see-through fabric, separated from one another by even sheerer sliding curtains. On a stage.)

I found some shorts and the floor girl put me in one of the enclosures, leaving the curtain separating me from the empty next room open. As I pulled on the first pair of shorts, a girl with an armload of shiny dresses threw open the curtain and stepped into the next room. “Oh hi, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bust all in here like that.” Then she pulled the curtain between us shut, leaving a big gap against the wall. I could see her outline through the thin fabric.

As she undressed she answered her phone. “I’m just trying on some sexy dresses right now. Yeah, like ones that’ll make him nice and hard.” She laughed and hung up the phone.  Once she had her first dress on she threw open the outside curtain again and stepped out to look at herself in the big mirror on the stage. I could see her reflected in my mirror, and the dress was clearly far too small on her. It didn’t cover her big round ass, and her voluptuous breasts looked like they were being poured out the top.

“Hey, girl! How does this look on me?” dress girl yelled at floor girl, who walked over and surveyed the scene.

“I think it’s a little small on you to be honest,” she said, looking at the pleats of the skirt perched on the girl’s generous ass.  “Let me get you a medium.”

“I need a man’s opinion,” dress girl said. She turned to my room and poked her head in. “Hey, tell me what you think of this.” She stepped back into her room and spun around for me. “Too short?”

Coffee, tea or me? or Stewardesses gone wild

Her's were more like the ones on the left than the ones on the right.

When I got on the 6 train this evening I found myself amid about ten young, loud, drunk flight attendants. All girls. All fairly attractive. They were squealing and yelling, the topic of conversation: how they routinely manipulate men using their breasts. Not kidding.

Now, before I get all into it, let me tell you that I am very aroused by the idea of a woman flaunting her body to get what she wants. Probably because I wish it would happen to me a little more often. No, that’s definitely why. I want someone to lean towards me seductively, squeezing her cleavage together and ask for my seat on the train. Or for someone to press her breast against my arm as she asks for a cigarette. But of course, my pleasure.

So the stewardesses (is that PC? No one cares? Okay) went on about the power in their bras as I looked them over. They were all dressed up for a night on the town — a look which primarily involved more makeup than ought to be legal — but one girl stuck out to me in particular. She was slim and simple, pretty in a Midwestern way with short brunette hair, and a dramatically plunging neckline that displayed to me about two-thirds of her small, pert, creamy-soft breasts.

Note: I had to hold my book in an awkward position as an alibi for staring in the direction of her cleavage as the train bounced along.

Midwestern girl was laughing as a busty blonde girl told the story of when she flashed a hotel guy in order to secure a room with a balcony. “That’s amazing!” Midwestern girl squealed. “I’ve never flashed anybody! But I want to!” She burst out laughing. Blonde girl told her she really ought to give it a try. Such a rush.

“Do it!” Interjected a tall girl with long black hair, apparently misunderstanding the conversation. “Show us those titties!” She laughed a crazy laugh, and — amazingly — her sentiment caught on. All the stewardesses were encouraging Midwestern girl, sitting right in front of me, to flash her breasts to the entire downtown 6 train. “You’ll never see any of these people again!” Reasoned blonde girl. “We’re flying out tomorrow!”

Workday thoughts re: plump little perky tits

Ashley Jensen pretty much sums it up today.

I worked a long day alone today, and had plenty of time to think. Here’s what I thought about:

This Hungarian girl who works nearby (and also happens to look a great deal like Ms. Jensen, pictured above) came in to the restaurant after the lunch rush today and we chatted for a good while. We were flirting a bit, and after she left, I fantasized about what her body would feel like up against mine. Lately I’ve been especially wanting to feel a soft young body — a girl with plump little perky tits, a nice soft tummy, nice thighs and a squeezable round ass — and I think Hungarian girl would fit the bill perfectly. There’s something so fucking hot to me about the soft plumpness of a girl with this type of body. I just want to squeeze and spank and caress her, feel her body pressed firmly against me, and after a good long fuck, cum on her perfect little supple tits.

This is what I fantasized about today at work. It was good. Then I was sexually frustrated because not only had Hungarian girl left without us having gotten naked together, but I was stuck at work for five more hours.

B

This just in: sweaters are *hot*

At work today, I served this very cute Russian girl who made me realize something I’d somehow missed: a girl in a tight-ish sweater and no bra is unbelievably sexy. Seriously.

First, it didn’t help that she had an amazing body. She was very curvy (which, as you will quickly learn, is what I’m attracted to); tall; and had perky, medium sized breasts. What’s more, she was incredibly cute, with short brown bouncy hair. Her sweater was pink and clung to the shape of her body. As she moved, it was clear that she was not wearing a bra, so as subtly as possible, I watched her breasts sway and bounce as she laughed with her friend.

She ordered her food, and — I may be making this up — gave me a wonderfully flirtatious smile with lots of big brown eye contact. You made quite an impression on me, cute Russian girl, and I will say, you turned me on.
Just thought I’d share this thought with you all.

B