I guess the title of the post is a bit redundant. Do we really have to distinguish between braless amateurs and braless professionals? And if so, what are the criteria? If it’s like college sports, once you start making money for it, you are considered a professional and you must quit the amateur ranks. Not to sound sexist, but many women (if not most) make money off their bodies or their looks. I mean, men take care of women because ultimately, they are captivated by the cleavage. Or uh some other body part.

In this case, purple I think is a very regal color. First we have the purple tanktop, which very clearly demonstrates the lack of the bra. Those nipples look a little puffy, perhaps ready for a nibble or nosh. With her crazy international buttons, and her spiffy tortoise shell sunglasses, and her furrowed brow, she seems to be saying: I am a little sweaty, and my cleavage is aching for your touch, so please jump my bones and strip me naked and make sweet love to my dryer lint right here on the cobblestones.

Then we have a purple outfit, which thankfully includes a purple miniskirt. I personally am a big fan of the miniskirt. It seems very liberating. You can get right up in there with a finger or ahh other appendage. You will have to ignore the kooky birds (wtf?) in the photos, as well as the body hair. This girl isn’t hirsute like our friend Jennifer Love Hewitt, but she certainly has a downy thistle.

I gotta start off with this little cutie. By little, I mean big. She is close to qualifying as a BBW or whatever they call themselves these days. But I have found that my perversion is not self-limiting to the extent that it would prevent me from gazing upon (and enjoying) the breasts of a chubster. Besides, she’s hot.

I can’t quite figure out the whole picture in the front seat of the car thing. Do these chicks set the camera on the dash? What prompts them to to snap pics while they are sitting there? Using my limited girl-psychology, I’d say they get all dressed up to go out with their friends, and they plop their g-string wearing butts into the front seat, and somebody says hey let’s take a picture to record this moment for posterity.

Dangle them. That’s right sugah, let that silky little dress fall open and expose those hangers. Cause Mr. BralessBlog pervert can’t get enough. I’m guessing we just narrowly missed a major hunk of a crotch shot. That in a way would have been a shame, cause then I would’ve kept it to myself and you guys wouldn’t have enjoyed the cleavage.

ps – We talked a little bit about Brooklyn Decker’s dangle last year, enjoy again.

No dangle here, these girls are poking straight out. Yep, my seriously sensitive nose tells me they are fake. But fake becomes real when they hit my lips or hands. Or any other bodypart. So no complaints, especially since she’s nice enough to rock the tanktop.

Do you guys remember T-I-T: tune in tokyo? This is the game you wanted to play, along with spin the bottle, when you were 10 and ogling your mom’s Victoria Secret catalogue. This girl, if you stare closely enough which of course you will, has the word “replay” written just above her left nipple. Which made me think of some kind of music player, which made me think of a radio, hence the T-I-T. It’s funny how my brain works, huh? Not funny as in ha-ha, more like oh shit run that dude is crazy.