Friday, October 13th — National No Bra Day. The entire campus was buzzing. Who would actually go through with it? I didn’t just plan to participate — I wanted to savor every second. No Bra Day wasn’t just a statement to me; it was a chance to feed that little exhibitionist streak I’d been exploring.
That morning, I strolled into the kitchen wearing a thin white T-shirt — no bra, no padding, just me. Mom raised an eyebrow. “You’re really doing this?” she asked. “You know you’re going to get attention.” I just smirked. “I get looks every day anyway.” She told me to throw a bra in my bag just in case. I had one ready — not because I planned to use it, but because it made her feel better.
Then I noticed — she wasn’t wearing a bra either. My conservative mom, casually standing there in a soft top with her huge boobs completely free. “Look at you,” I teased. “Didn’t think you’d join the cause.” She laughed and wished me luck as I headed out the door.
Walking into school was electric. I expected a few girls to participate — I did not expect half the campus. Jessica was in a tight pink top with her nipples standing at full salute. Jody’s chest bounced so freely with every step that it was hypnotic. Even Cindy, the perfect straight-A student who never broke a rule, was braless under a fitted white blouse, her nipples clear as day.
And it didn’t stop there. Mrs. Schneider’s sheer blouse left nothing to the imagination. Mrs. Erdmann, already a campus favorite with her DDs, was clearly braless too — the guys in the back of her class practically couldn’t breathe. Everywhere I looked, shirts clung to soft curves and stiff points. The hallways felt alive with it.
By mid-morning, my semi-regular bed buddy caught up with me. He leaned in with that grin I knew too well.
“Lunch?”
“Sure.”
“I might need… you know. Today’s killing me.”
At 11:45, I met him in the parking lot, slid into his truck, and we drove off. We joked about who surprised us the most by ditching their bras, but by the time we pulled into our usual spot — a quiet dead end off campus — the conversation turned urgent.
He tilted his seat back, unzipped, and I freed his cock from his jeans. Thick, warm, already hard. I wrapped my lips around him and started slow, teasing, swirling my tongue just under the tip — the spot I knew he loved. He groaned low, his hand gripping the back of my head.
I bobbed deeper, taking him to the base, feeling every pulse, every throb as he grew harder in my mouth. His breathing quickened. He muttered, “God, I'm close…” as I tightened my lips and worked him faster, letting spit drip down his cock. His hips jerked, his thighs tensed, and ten minutes in, he grunted and pumped his load into my mouth. Salty, warm, familiar. I swallowed every drop, wiped my lips with the back of my hand, and grinned. “Happy lunch?”
“Best lunch ever,” he panted. We hit a drive-thru for burgers and made it back to campus like nothing happened.
Later, one of my classes split the guys and girls for a breast cancer awareness talk. I thought it was brilliant — instead of fighting No Bra Day, they embraced it and made it meaningful.
After classes, I wasn’t done. I wanted to push it — to be out where people would notice. First stop: the grocery store. I tweaked my nipples in the car until they stood sharp through my shirt, then wandered the aisles. I caught lingering glances from men and women both… and even got a phone number from another braless woman celebrating the day.
Next stop: Walmart. Normally, I hate the place, but today it was perfect — crowded, fluorescent, impossible to go unnoticed. I walked slowly, letting my shirt cling to me, feeling eyes follow me everywhere. A couple guys practically undressed me with their stares. Women gave me quick approving nods — more of them braless than I’d ever imagined. It wasn’t just me and a few bold friends. It was everywhere.
Since then, I celebrate No Bra Day every year — and honestly, plenty of days in between. The freedom, the stares, and the way it makes someone’s day just by giving them a good view? Totally addictive.
