Going Braless

Recently, I was enslaved to a friend for a week. One of the dares he commanded was that I remove my bra at work. Going braless in public has always made me very self-conscious and quite uncomfortable. I feel like my breasts have doubled in size and are flopping all over the place. The day he ordered my bralessness I didn't have on my usual dress jacket but a shrug cardigan, which is a sweater that cannot be buttoned in the front, so it offered no support at all. He gave me some mercy, since I work in a professional setting, and granted me the option to go braless at a later date, but I would have to go shopping in more daring attire than my work clothing. I had little choice but to agree. I paid up my debt last weekend.

With spring coming I had to pick up some lawn fertilizer and lime at a new nursery/garden supply store a few towns over from my home, which I thought it was the perfect place to fulfill my obligation. Besides my jeans and sneakers I went with old tank-top t-shirt that showed a bit of cleavage and of course no bra. The shirt was a bit tight, so it gave some support, but it also left little to the imagination when it came to hiding my nipples. Since it is still cold out I felt justified in wearing a hooded zippered sweater, at least until I got in the store.

Once at the nursery I chickened out. It was fairly crowded and there were several families with children wandering about buying their spring time supplies. I just couldn't do it. During the drive home I was feeling a bit bad for being such a coward when I saw a Cumberland Farms gas station/convenience store that didn't seem to have that many people inside. Taking a deep breath I pulled in to a parking place, unzipped my sweater, got out of my car and went inside.

There was only one customer in the store, an older lady preoccupied down one of the side aisles. My sweater's lapels stayed draped over my chest until I bent down to get an ice tea, when one of them flopped to the side. I froze a bit when I stood up, feeling quite out of balance with one of my t-shirt covered breasts sticking out and my nipples quite erect. I fought back the desire to zip up the sweater and opened up the other size to make everything match and to pay up in full. I felt like such a slut.

The only person that saw me was the clerk, a young Hispanic male. At first he didn't notice, more distracted by his phone. But when he went to give me my change he stared right at my chest with a big goofy smile. When our eyes made contact I thought he would look away, but instead he shamelessly gave me a cheeky smile and said “hello” in an amused toned.

I took my change and with a curt “thank you” I quickly left the store and got back into my car.