Braless Blog

You know, I scour the internet and even the badlands of the world for you folks trying to find braless material for you to enjoy. The least you can do is take naked pictures of your wives, girlfriends, or yourselves (if you are female or at least look like it), and send them to me. Is this really too much to ask? Tit for tat, a symbiotic yet perverted relationship?

First off, we have this pretty little amateur model with the stunning eyes. The greenish color of those eyes sort of clashes with the gray of her t-shirt, but woops we can go no further once we get a load of those pokies. Style, beauty, artistry, color, it all goes out the window once we realize she is hot, braless, and making quite a nipplistic impression on her shirt.

Sticking with the braless-in-the-gray-t-shirt theme, we have this little blondie, who is smiling in such a way as to convey the thought: put the camera down bozo and ravage me like you are Fabio on a viagra high. Or, possibly: the castle is over there, why am I standing over here with my hand in my pants and my nips poking Northward instead of going with the other tourists?

Biker girls are good, right? In this case, we have an average gal, with kind of bad teeth, and an average face, with some solid 3-star c-cups who becomes an internet star because she likes to wear red spandex zip-up’s with no bra. Grrrreat.

And then, for a little fun, we have Jewel. I know her, you may not, but that’s only because I’m assuming you aren’t as perverted as me and you sleep at night and have a job and don’t pour through the internet 24 hours a day. You may be able to click though enough to find the link to her website, or then again maybe not. There are many mysteries in life, no?

Sit back and relax and try to use both hands as we continue on our magic journey through braless amateur land.

I want to start things off with this cowgirl. She has no stetson and no chaps on, but I gotta call her out as a ropin ridin mess when I see the rope and the white shirt and the pokies. I cannot help but hiccup and spasm and choke on my Boone’s Farm just a tiny bit when I notice she has her jeans unbottoned and appears to be ready for me to strip her clothes off and get busy with her dusty, sweaty body.

This gal is just on the very brink of being a milf. She is a tad too youthful looking to be 40, but it’s clear that she’s copulated in a few backseats, and wouldn’t mind watching Hee-Haw with me and my plastic Taco Bell cup full of Boone’s Farm. Those girls she is packing are big enough to be classified as dangerous should they begin swinging around. And if she goes out to the grocery store like that, the pimply faced cashier boy is going to throw down right in his trousers. I call the pic “big hair” because she reminds me of the big hair girls of the 80’s and 90’s (hey, nothing wrong with that).

And we’ll wrap this one up with two gorgeous car babes. Just ignore the wrinkly pouches in front of their stomachs. They answered an ad in the paper about doing some modeling, the dude said here wear this red dragon slayer getup, and they poofed up their hair and went with the flow. The cleavage is the important part. If these girls will pose on that hideous car, there is no telling what they would do if I borrowed my uncle’s Lincoln, which is currently parked under a tree where for some reason owls like to roost and dump all over this cream-colored paint. I bet they would tell me, wow your windshield is dirty. But after they told me that, they would coo and wowza and squish their buns around in the royal blue leather seats.