It was Shana’s birthday, and all us girls were going out for a night on the town.

I wanted to start the night off right, so I primped and preened for hours. Fresh out of the shower, I was cozied up to the mirror putting my make-up on when my phone rang.

“What are you wearing?” Gina asked.

“Nothing but a towel,” I told her.

“No, seriously! Tonight, what are you wearing?”

Everybody knows girls have to coordinate their outfits. God forbid if a couple of us ended up wearing the same thing.

After more make-up, a lot of work on my hair, and a little perfume, I got started on the wardrobe. I wedged a tiny red satin g-string between my cheeks. I pulled a short skirt on over that, with some heels. My blouse was made of wispy thin material. After much deliberation, I decided on no bra.

My boobs are quite big, 36 D-cups. Going out in public braless generally has to be planned in advance. Trust me, it’s not something I would do at church. My boobs tend to bounce around, my nipples tend to poke out, and people notice.

I figured it was nighttime, we would be in a dark club, and nobody would really be able to tell. And besides, so what if they did? I liked my boobs. Guys in particular liked my boobs. Why not show them off once in awhile?

A few hours into the club scene, once I had a few drinks in me and started dancing with the girls, I was horny with a capital H. Part of it was grinding and goofing around with my girlfriends. Part of it was the charged atmosphere. And then part of it, to be honest, was just that I hadn’t gotten laid in a long time!

I started thinking about slipping into the bathroom, and hiding out in one of the stalls, and rubbing one off. Yeah, I know – disturbing and disgusting behavior. I hope you are not ashamed of me.

I went to the bar where Leisa was talking to a gentleman standing beside her, and I ordered a drink. One of the bartenders was a young guy who moved like a ballerina. I didn’t find him hot, but he was fun to watch.

I sipped my cocktail, watching this bartender as my mind wandered to my horniness problem. I could literally feel a throbbing between my legs. Surreptitiously, with nobody watching (I hoped), as I went to sit my cocktail glass down on the bar I dragged the edge of the glass over my nipple. My skin was flushed with the exertion of dancing and with my horniness, a light sweat glistening here and there. My nipples were erect, aching for attention.

The edge of the glass rubbed my areola painfully, erotically. I squeezed my eyes shut and also squeezed my thighs together, longing for some relief. Screw it – I tossed the last of my drink back and headed for the powder room.

I clip-clopped across the club in my heels, my big boobs bouncing and swaying in a way that I knew might attract attention.

Before I could get the bathroom door closed, Leisa elbowed her way in with me.

“Sweetie, ya gotta let me go or I’m going to have an accident,” she apologized. I laughed, and told her no problem.

As she sat on the toilet relieving herself in what sounded like the Great Flood, I checked my hair and tweaked my makeup in the mirror by the sink. Leisa and I chatted as we went, and swapped places once she was done.

“Okay, so I see you’re wearing panties,” she muttered at me in the mirror as I peed on the toilet.

“Um, yes… thank you for noticing?” I replied. I actually worried that she might see the wet spot on my red panties as I sat there. No need for her to realize how badly I needed an orgasm.

“Well, I thought maybe when you forgot your bra you maybe forgot your panties too,” she said with a wink.

“Hey listen,” I replied, “you take care of your boobs and I’ll take care of mine.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Leisa said with a smile. She turned around and leaned against the edge of the sink. “If I had great boobs like yours, I would want to show them off too.”

“You have an awesome body,” I said dismissively, pulling up my panties and flushing.

“Do you mind if I ask if they are real?”

“Yep,” I replied as I walked over to her to rinse my hands in the sink. “All natural baby!”

“Can I feel them?”

“Uh, you want to feel my boobs?”

“Yes please,” she said a bit nervously.

I dried my hands and tossed the paper towel in the wastebasket. “Be my guest,” I told her.

She put a very warm hand on each of my boobs, gripping them, squeezing them for just a second. Through the thin fabric of my blouse, she could fee every inch, every contour and bump on my nipples. “They are very soft, big,” she told me. She was standing close, and I could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Ah, yeah well I’d be careful doing that if I were you. You don’t want to wake the sleeping bear.”

She dropped her hands and furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m in a bad way. It’s been awhile.”

“Actually, you have something on you,” she said, and bent in for a closer look.

“Something on me? Like what?” Dammit, if I had spilled something on my blouse I was going to be pissed.

Then Leisa surprised me by softly kissing the side of my neck, and lightly biting my ear.

I moaned. I took her hands and cupped them firmly back on my tits. “Do that again,” I whispered.

Leisa kissed my neck again, licking and biting her way up behind my ear. She slid one hand off my chest and put it on my ass, pulling my hips against hers. My heart pounded and my crotch throbbed.

Err, wait, was that my heart pounding? Somebody was getting desperate and pounding on the bathroom door.

“Looks like we’re going to have to continue this another time,” Leisa said quietly, and softly bit my lower lip.

I entered the hardware store focused and determined. I would not be distracted by gleaming stainless steel gas grilles. I would not be seduced by the riding lawn mower, and drool and wish. I needed one more wood panel to finish the bookshelf I was working on at home, and that was all I was here for. Nothing else! No nuclear powered thousand-year water heaters. No voice-activated toolboxes. Zip!

So I practically sprinted over to the appropriate aisle, picked through the paneling until I found an acceptable piece, and I turned to head for the checkout. But wait a second. What was that? No, it wasn’t a remote-controlled skill saw. It was… a blonde. I caught just a glimpse of some hot blonde at the end of the aisle. Okay, so that was an allowable distraction. I sauntered a little closer.

She was middle-age, maybe 32. She was busty, with a thin, v-neck t-shirt hugging her curves, and a hardware store apron tied loosely over it. Her luxurious blonde hair was casually tied up in a bun, but several strands had escaped and were framing her stunning face. She wore safety glasses as she presided over her class. She appeared to be instructing a handful of folks on how to build a birdhouse. As took a hammer and demonstrated how to go about tapping a nail in, her toned arms were tight but I noticed an unusual bounce to her bust.

“Sir, do you need a kit?”

she asked me, shocking me from my lustful reverie. She clomped over in her workboots and deposited a loaner hammer, a small box of nails, and a clear plastic bag that was apparently a birdhouse kit. I immediately dropped the panel I had carried over and got to work. But I found it hard to keep my eyes off the cleavage of our tutor.

As she worked to get the small class through a series of tasks, it was obvious to me that she was not wearing a bra. Her big, soft boobs bounced and swayed as she walked. There was too much wiggle and jiggle there for her to have those girls tied down.

“Do you need some help, sir?” she asked. “You seem to be falling behind,” she said with a smirk as she eased over closer to me.

“Ah, yes. I’m distracted, I guess,” I admitted. This broadened her smile even more. She bent down to inspect my pathetic birdhouse. Her deep cleavage gaped at me, and I nearly lost my mind.

“Yes,” she agreed, “very distracted!” She spun on her heel and walked away. But as she neared one of the other tables, she ducked her head under the strap of her apron and tossed it aside after untying it. Her white t-shirt stood not a chance at containing those boobies. Her nipples plucked perkily at the thin fabric, obvious to everyone. This might possibly be the best hardware store experience I would ever have, and I was hoping to stretch it out for at least a few more minutes!

Samantha is one of the product managers. She probably makes pretty good money. She’s certainly in a position of authority. If I had to guess, she got where she is according to the following formula
15% brainpower
15% hard work
70% looking hot

I may be off a bit on those percentages, but you get the idea. Samantha is very attractive, and has a body that can stop traffic in any state in the union. She is about 5’5”, fairly petite, short dark hair, big double-D boobies, and stomach that’s flat as a board. Her butt, to be honest, is a little big for my tastes. I prefer them small and athletic, hers is a little more curvy. But I ain’t complaining.

Our office is comprised of 95% guys, so Samantha gets more than her fair share of attention. When she struts around, not much work gets done. She’s always dressed well, generally in blouses, skirts, heels, very professional stuff. But sometimes you get the hint that she’s a little wild. She’ll wear a skirt that’s a little shorter than you would expect. Or maybe a blouse that’s undone one extra button. And with those DD’s, guys get a good look at that cleavage and start stammering and turning red in the face.

I’ve worked around Samantha for years, but we only work with each other briefly and on rare occasions. Not too long ago, I needed to introduce a new product to her, so I set up a meeting with her in my office.

During our meeting, she hadn’t been sitting across from me for long before I started thinking she might be flirting with me. She was smiling a lot, and kept flipping her hair around, and stretching, and crossing and re-crossing her legs. The stretching was very effective, if her goal was to make me uncomfortable and very aware of her boobs. She was wearing a tight, white top that day, and I could’ve sworn I could see the indentations of her perky nipples against the fabric. Was she wearing a bra? It didn’t seem like it! It wasn’t like I could just ogle her boobs, stare straight at them and take those “man-snapshots” with my brain. I kept sneaking little glances at her cleavage whenever she would look away.

I’ve always been blessed with a quick mind, so I was smart enough to decide what I really needed to do was walk Samantha back into the shop and show her a prototype of the new product. I figured this would give me a chance to check her out in a slightly more dynamic setting than just sitting at my desk, and also getting her off in a corner by ourselves seemed like an exciting thing to do. We had not walked 5 steps down the hallway before I knew for sure she was braless. Those tantalizing boobs were bouncing up and down and swaying side to side as she klip-klopped along in her high heels.

Did she start the day off wearing a bra, and she had taken it off late in the afternoon for comfort? Maybe she slipped out of it before she headed over to my office for a meeting? Maybe she stood in front of the mirror that morning at home, applying her makeup, and thinking how sexy it would be to go braless all day and make all the guys she worked with miserable. And of course, as we approached the prototype area in the shop, it occurred to me that if she was braless she might also have discarded her panties.

These thoughts had me amped up and frankly as horny as a two-dick dog. But I was determined not to make a fool of myself. I showed off our prototype as we stood at the workbench shoulder to shoulder. The air was electric – I could feel my nerves humming and my heart thumping. After a brief discourse, I demonstrated the gizmo, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t break, and a small spring shot off and dropped right between her boobs. My eyes nearly fell out of my head.

“Nice, I think that went down my shirt!” she said, peering down at her bosom and then looking up at me with a smile.

“Whoops,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t look very sorry. You look like you might want to rummage around in there and fish it out,” she teased.

“Ah, maybe I shouldn’t answer that question,” I laughed.

She snagged my hand, and in the surprise move of the century, pulled it up to cup her breast.

“Is that it?” she asked quietly.

She was standing only inches from me, close enough that her breath tickled my chin as she asked the question. Her boob was very warm through the material of her blouse. Her hand was pressing down on mine, and we were squashing that lovely lady against her ribcage. So soft and so huge, definitely more than a handful. I didn’t want to stop.

“I’m not sure,” I answered. I lifted her breast, squeezed it, massaged it. Then stopped. “Nope, that’s not it.”

“How about over here?” Before she could pull my other hand up to her chest, I immediately grabbed it. My fingers found her nipple, and I pinched it lightly. Her red lips parted, and I heard the tiniest of gasps.

“Mmm, I don’t know, could be.”

She stepped away from me, and I dropped my hands to my sides, immediately disappointed and a little scared.

“That was a very expensive prototype. I can’t believe I just broke it.”

She nodded her head. She looked like she was blushing just a bit. “That spring may be long gone.”

I chuckled, just to show her how none of this was a big deal, and I wasn’t fighting an erection, and I wasn’t petrified she was about to turn me in to Human Resources for sexual harassment. “I’m really sorry about that. We will get this fixed up, build a new one. Hopefully it will be a little less fragile.”

“Oh no, I’m glad it happened. I’ve been trying for a long time to catch more than stares with these boobs and it’s finally happened.”

“Do you, ah, normally waltz around without a bra? I mean, I guess I haven’t noticed that, and it seems like I would’ve noticed.”

Samantha smiled demurely and almost shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Obviously not. Only on special occasions. Like when you invite me over to your office late in the day. And then drag me out here and start dropping things down my shirt.”

“Well, I’ll give you a few private minutes to make sure nothing else was inadvertently collected in there, but then I’m taking you out for a drink. Want to meet me out in the parking lot in say five minutes?”

She smiled a yes before spinning turning on her heel and heading towards her office.