Unbuttoned Blouse Novels & Stories

I was supposed to wear my gray, black, and white plaid skirt down to my shins, but I used my daddy’s credit card to get all of my uniform skirts tailored. Now they barely reach mid-thigh, and that’s saying something, considering how long my legs are. I’m supposed to tuck my starchy white button-up shirt into that skirt, but instead, I undo the two bottom buttons and use the loose fabric to tie a cute knot, so that the shirt is cropped to show a little flash of my narrow waist. I undo the first two buttons, as well, so I can put my ample cleavage on full display. On top of that, I’m meant to wear a boxy gray fleece (which I conveniently ‘misplaced’ within a week of enrolling here) and a modes

“Only if you say no.” I looked at the door. He didn’t stop me. But I didn’t walk away. I stood. My fingers went to the top button of my blouse. “Lock the door,” he said softly. I did. Then turned around and met his gaze as I slipped one button free. Then another. Then all of them. The blouse slid down my arms, landing on the floor in a whisper. My bra was black lace — thin, sheer. His eyes darkened. I reached behind me and unhooked it slowly. My breasts spilled free, nipples hard and tight.

Sandy whispered to me and started to slowly unbutton her blouse, never taking her eyes off the screen. Up to this point, the strangeness of the situation had pretty well robbed me of any excitement it might have generated. When Sandy started to unbutton her blouse, I could see that she had nothing at all on under it. A bolt of excitement sped through me as she gradually exposed the prettiest breasts I have ever seen. She didn’t do it all at once. She languidly slipped one button off at a time until the blouse was open exposing her cleavage and tummy, but still covering most of her nakedness including the nipples and most of her breasts. Just knowing that she was naked and so exposed and open

She mouthed to me to answer yes but I shook my head to avoid a complicated situation and that causes her to glare at me but I ignored that and faced the mirror again to pay attention to my outfit. The blazer or robe is thin, it's also long, but really open, without zippers or buttons. She noticed that it was what I was looking for so she came to me completely after heaving a sigh. I noticed that it had a small lace, short and white on the innermost part of it and I just now realized that there was also a lace on its very edge. She was the one who tied it for me while I was looking at her face.

Those things were the only things places like this were good for, trouble. Zen unbuttoned her white blouse further still and knotted the bottom half to expose her flat midriff. Then she rolled up the top of her skirt to bring it several more inches up her thighs. She pulled her hair free from the tight bun and finger pumped her curls up around her face. She was the type of girl who didn’t need any makeup to be beautiful with a flawless complexion. She glanced herself over in the pull-down mirror.

I had expected her to wear one of her little black dresses that always looked as if they were painted over the curves of her body. Instead, she wore a straight charcoal-grey skirt that ended just above the knee, and a white blouse that buttoned down the front. She had left the top two buttons undone to show a tantalizing-bu-not-indecent amount of cleavage. Around her neck, she wore a short string of pearls, and had stud earrings to match. Under the blouse, she had on a shelf bra that supported her gorgeous tits-forming that wonderful cleavage-but didn't come up high enough to keep her nipples from rubbing the thin fabric of the blouse and making tiny little tents.

Olive gasped and her hands came up automatically but I was already pushing the blazer off her shoulders, down her arms, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of expensive fabric that I didn't give a fuck about. She was wearing a white silk blouse underneath, the kind with delicate buttons that looked like they'd break if you breathed on them wrong, and I could see the outline of her bra through the thin fabric, could see the way her chest was heaving with each breath. "Zane, we're at work," she said, but her voice was breathless, unconvincing, and her hands were gripping the edge of my desk behind her like she needed something to hold onto. "I don't care," I said, and then my hands were on

I took a few steps until I was close enough. She pulled the scarf from her neck and it was at that moment that I noticed that she was wearing a black social blouse, with golden front buttons with beautiful flower details, three of them were unbuttoned, she made a point of unbuttoning another one, which exposed the delicate gap in the neck. her breasts, the bra so beautiful that I couldn't reason what was the newest and most tempting aspect that was before my eyes. Her boldness in parting her blouse and showing the red mark from the scratch the box I was holding made on her skin made me swallow hard, shuddering that it was so...so exciting.

I looked up at him, about to retort, when his eyes dropped to my blouse. “W-what?” I asked. He hesitated. “Your button.” “What about it?” “It’s open.” My eyes flew down. The second button on my silk blouse had indeed come undone, exposing some cleavage. I fumbled to close it, cheeks burning. “You could’ve just said that.” “I did,” he said gently. I buttoned it quickly. “Happy?” He smiled faintly. “Not necessarily. You’d hate for someone to see you like that.”

However, she wasn't one to back down easily. With the unwavering support of Dr. Ruiz, they had devised a plan. Nysaa decided to reach out to the community center where she worked, hoping that her colleagues and friends there could provide assistance during this challenging period. Determined and prepared to face whatever was coming, she got ready for work. She dressed in her usual attire, an ensemble that reflected her bold and non-conformist personality – short shorts, a graphic tank top, and a leather jacket, an outfit that had become her trademark.