Wearing a blue jean thigh high mini, and THAT DAMN tank top, that showed off her great looking cleavage, and hung just below her boobs, NO BRA. I love... it.She ran her hands through her thick hair.She walked drunkenly up on my deck, and bent over to look at my lap top, and almost touched my face with her cleavage. Her tanned arm, leaned on the back of the chair, her boobs were hanging, just teasing the bottom of her top, straining the top to open.Put that thing away, and lets talk! Her voice was. Hair had recently come in on my chest, and she seemed fascinated by the rivulets of sweat that trickled slowly from one follicle to another. “Topless—that’s a great idea.” She sat forward and pulled her t-shirt over her head. My earlier guess was right on—she wasn’t wearing a bra. She sat back and fanned her naked breasts right in front of me. They were beautiful white orbs the size of grapefruit with flat red nipples. She picked up her ice-cold glass and touched it to each breast. Her nipples. More

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