Topless Guide

Reprinted from the Campus Newspaper, as a service to the girls of this College

By Donna Donna

Many of you girls have been writing or calling the newspaper, asking for help dressing, now that the Slippery Slope Memo has come out.  Many of you have seen me strutting about campus with my titties fully exposed for all to see.  Some of you have asked me how I do it, especially on Parents’ Day, and when I need to go off campus for whatever reason.  Others ask me why I do it — after all, the Dress Code, the Code of Conduct, and even the Slippery Slope Memo don’t require girls to go topless, so why go through the extra hassle of having people leer at my cute little nips?

First, let me explain why it’s easier to go topless than to wear a top.  All of my most modest tops cover below my belly button, so the majority of inspectors treat them the same as micro-minidresses.  This means if I wear pants or a skirt with the top, I find myself getting handcuffed to the fence by the Student Center, and slowly stripped naked.  The most humiliating part of it, for me, is when the Inspector makes me beg passers-by to remove my skirt, and then when one finally does, he makes me beg them to test me for sexual excitement.  I’m embarrassed even writing this for the school paper, but it’s important for me to explain: I get excited from being humiliated this way.  I don’t know if I’m alone in this, but unfortunately by the time my skirt comes off, I’m usually fully excited, so I often get raped once or twice while I’m handcuffed to the fence, which is my own fault for allowing myself to get so excited.  The point is that wearing tops that cover my midriff expose me to this sort of public humiliation.  On the other hand, tops that cover less have their own problems.  A tight half-shirt that I like was classified by one inspector as a bra, even though it clearly wasn’t, and I had to take it off.  My favorite loose half-shirt sometimes gives people a view of the bottoms of my tits, like when the campus bus is full and I have to hang onto the handrail.  Shirts with buttons show some cleavage, which requires me to show all my cleavage, and as you read in the Slippery Slope Memo, eventually requires me to remove the shirt altogether.  So after all is said and done, there just aren’t any tops that I can wear without violating one code or another.

I finally built up the courage to go topless in public, but I was very embarrassed by the way everyone kept staring at my naked tits.

The effect of all these codes and memos that have been published by the College is to make girls choose to go topless or bottomless.  As I mentioned, my pussy gets all wet whenever I have to expose myself in public, so I have to keep it covered to avoid being raped.  So I have decided to go topless.

It wasn’t easy at first, but I mustered the courage one morning to go out wearing just a skirt.  With my heart racing, and my pussy puffing up with excitement, I picked a nice long skirt to cover myself — down there, at least.  I fastened it loosely about my waist so it would slide down and cover the maximum length of my legs, almost down to my knees.  I didn’t worry about the small amount of butt-crack that was showing, because I was most concerned that my pussy would be fully covered.

But wherever I went, people just stared at my tits.  I was horrified.  I felt like telling them, “Stop staring at me — everyone has tits!” but instead I just folded my arms to cover them up as best I could.

My problem was always that my nipples got little hard-ons, which tele- graphed my sexual excite- ment, which violated the Code.  My punishment — rape — happened all too often.

After my rape, another boy sat down next to me, and put his arms around me.  I was feeling sort of vulnerable just then, so I was glad for the company, and I snuggled up to him.  He unfastened my skirt, which I must say would have normally provoked a strong reaction from me, but this time I just let it go.

After the boy took off my skirt, I noticed fewer people stared at my tits. It’s nice to be fully shaved, too, because it makes my pussy seem smaller, and harder to notice.

The more he avoided touching me there, the more I wanted him to.  I pressed my body into his, more than snuggling, I would say.  I was this far from cumming for minute after endless minute as he gently stroked all around my most intimate of areas.  I sat on the table in front of him with my legs as wide as they could go, my pussy just inches from his mouth.  I desperately wanted him to help me cum!  When I leaned back, he licked my asshole, Oh! How delicious that felt!  I leaned forward, and he sucked on my breasts, raising inch-long hardons.  I didn’t say anything but in my mind I yelled, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM!

Finally, he looked at his watch, and said he had to go to class.  With that, he got up, and just left me, stark naked, sitting on the table in the cafeteria with my legs wide open, bewildered.  I came to my senses a moment after he left, and looked around for my skirt — it was gone!  Instinctively, I covered my breasts, but then, upon looking around, no one was staring at them, so I left them uncovered.  Without realizing it, (or did he?) the boy had taught me a valuable lesson: if you want people to avoid staring at you when you’re topless, then you should go bottomless, too.