We’ll check out some random braless action today, with a concentration on- uh how should I say it… professionals.

This pink tanktop is in danger of experiencing structural failure in the same way a guitar string that is strung too tight and then plucked might twang. Thereupon unleashing these girls to wreak havoc upon my motorboating nose.

And here are a couple of pics of a well-endowed gal in a type of top that I just can’t name. Is that a sarong? A martian indexing blouse? A cooter kintay? Whatever, she looks good in brown, and those gigantic mammaries are enough to make me very thirsty for a tall glass of milk.

This is quite the interesting scenario. My girl her appears to have donned a roll-neck sweater, then gone out into the wilderness on a cool Fall day in her daisy dukes. If I had legs like that, I wouldn’t cover them up either, so can’t blame her there. Thems some money-makin legs right there. So anyway, with her crazy helmet-hair, and her smokey-eyed gaze (reminiscent of what Sharon Stone did in Basic Instinct), she manages to almost detract our attention from those magnificent cans. All squeezed together and pointy, that’s not an easy task, since once we notice them it’s hard not to slobber and whine like a hungry dog.