The No Underwear Club
Marley Quinn
The No Underwear Club
by Marley Quinn
Table of Contents
Going Commando
Open Your Mouth
I Feel So Delicious
The Incident
Totally Unfair
The Official Start of Summer
Chicken Fight!
All’s Fair in Love and War
Why Deny It?
Big Boy Sugar
You’re Different, Lance
Rejected
Patriarchy is Bad
Silence Gives Consent
Practice Like More
Mrs. Wilson
Icing on the Cake
An Optimistic Heart
Shiny Gadget
First Real Kiss
Big Daddy
Little Lady
Truly Marvelous
Girl Juice
A Sticky Mess
The Count of Three
Chinese Poems
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Little Boy Toy
Karaoke Star
Betrayal
Doubles Tennis
Spring Rolls
Better Than Playing Dress-up
Having a Fit
Photo Shoot
You Sicko
It’s Called Lap Dancing
The Red Dress
Completely in Charge
Game If You Are
Studying Virtually
That’s My Boy
Sparkling or Still
It’s All About the Little Details
Guilty as Charged
A Little Lick
Lame!
Pirate Treasure
Camp Greenwood
So Close to Heaven
Barefoot and Pregnant
Omelets Okay
Big Tiger
Theater Camp
Man-to-Man
My Master Plan
Tilted
Free!
Out of Juice
Slide
Matches
Back to Civilization
Midnight Cookies
Midnight Cookies
Grounded
Curves
History
Kidnapped
Signature
Goonie
Mom’s Confession
Unexpected Development
The Last Week
Surprise Party
Made a Fool
A Day for Confessions
Completely Inappropriate Behavior
Fog
Haven’s Message
The Best I Ever Knew
Newfound Maturity
The Happiest Moment
Going Commando
“So, what do you think?” said Haven, an enormous grin on her face as she came flouncing back into her room, giving me a little twirl before sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Think about what?” I said, hoping that the color that I could feel rising in my cheeks wasn’t noticeable.
“This top, silly,” said Haven with a laugh. “How does it look on me?”
“Uh, it looks great,” I said, knowing very well to never, ever say anything critical when a girl asked you for your opinion about her outfit.
“Oh, Lance, you’re so funny,” said Haven with a grin. “You’ve seen this top a million times! Come on, now.”
“Uh, sure, sure,” I said, feeling my thoughts whirl in my head. What was she fishing for, if not a compliment on her sweatshirt?
“Come on, take a closer look,” said Haven, popping to her feet, causing her breasts to sway in the most delicious manner underneath the oversized sweatshirt. “Notice anything different?”
“Uh, your Mom finally found it underneath all this mess and then gave it a wash?” I cautiously ventured.
“Lance, you’re so silly!” said Haven with a squeal. “I’m not that messy. Am I?”
“Well...” I said, gesturing at the various mounds of clothes that covered half the space in her room.
“Fine!” said Haven, sticking out her tongue at me. “Yes, it’s clean. Of course! But that’s not what’s different.”
“Well, then, I don’t know,” I said, my stomach suddenly constricting. What kind of game was Haven playing with me now?
“Okay, let me give you a hint,” said Haven, a huge grin appearing on her face. “Watch me as I walk over there and come back.”
Utterly mystified as to what was going on, I watched carefully as Haven threaded her way around the various piles of clothes to the other side of her room and then back, but I couldn’t see anything unusual about the sweatshirt.
“I give up,” I said, lifting my hands in a gesture of defeat.
“Fine!” said Haven, making her way over closer to me. “Let’s see if you notice it, now.”
I felt my mouth gap open as I watched Haven begin to engage in some kind of weird new dance move, her legs firmly planted on the floor while she rapidly wiggled her torso back and forth. But I just couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to be looking at.
“You’re no fun, Lance,” said Haven before dejectedly plopping into a nearby chair. “This was your one big chance to tell me what a woman I’m becoming!”
“Right, right,” I said, my stomach doing a quick, painful flip.
“I joined the No Bra Club!” said Haven, her eyes wide with triumph as she leapt to her feet.
“The what?” I said, suddenly feeling a strange heat shoot up the back of my neck.
“I’m not wearing a bra under this sweatshirt,” announced Haven, a strange gleam in her eyes. “I just was curious if anyone could tell.”
“Oh,” I said, clearly feeling a rush of head flash across my forehead as I urgently readjusted my position on the edge of the bed.
“Yep, full commando!” chortled Haven. “I was sick of that bra, anyway! It’s so ugly, and it really cuts into my skin something awful.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, hoping that my tone of voice came across convincingly.
“Besides, I always wondered what it would feel like to go around braless so that your nipples can feel the fabric. You know, from the inside?” said Haven, her questing eyes boring right into me.
“Sure, sure,” I said with a weak laugh. “I’ve been braless all my life.”
But instead of laughing, Haven flashed me an angry scowl before beginning to pace back and forth between mounds of clothing. “See? It’s not fair that guys don’t have to wear bras. Why is it that it’s only women who have to worry about their nipples all the time?”
“You’re right,” I said, readjusting my position on the bed as discreetly as I could.
“Heck, I’ve seen fat guys with bigger titties than me, and no one ever told them to strap into a bra!” said Haven,” with a half shriek, half laugh.
“Amen to that!” I said, feeling an enormous sense of relief wash over me as the conversation now seemed to be drifting into other topics.
“So, that’s right, Lance! From now on, I’m going to shake my little boobies anywhere I damn well feel like,” said Haven, her face uncharacteristically flushed a pale pink.
“And make fat guys wear bras!” I said, joining in with a hearty chuckle.
But for a long moment, Haven said nothing as she paced back and forth before quickly turning to face me.
“What?” I said, turning my palms upward.
“Lance, you’re the only person who can give me an honest opinion,” said Haven. “Girls are too judgmental, and you’re the only guy I trust.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, my stomach briefly clenching, and it was all I could do to hold my gaze steady.
“Okay, I’m going to walk back and forth across my room one more time,” said Haven. “And I want you to watch. Carefully! And tell me how they look.”
“Looks?” I just barely managed to gulp in reply, my throat suddenly gone stiff and scratchy.
“My boobies, Lance,” said Haven, shooting me a quick frown. “My titties, my boobs! I need to know what they look like in this top.”
“Uh, sure,” I somehow managed to reply, my voice faint and weak.
“You know, tell me if I look too slutty or whatever,” said Haven, flashing me a big grin.
But before I could attempt to reply, Haven had set out to do her little catwalk. For a moment or two, I was confident that I was in control of myself, but as my eyes took in those subtle, captivating shifts and movements in the fabric that sent my entire nervous system into overdrive, I was forced to lunge for a nearby pillow to place my lap so that Haven wouldn’t discover my terrible secret.
Open Your Mouth
“So, what’s the verdict, Lance?” said Haven, her eyes twinkling with delight.
“Ah,” was all I could manage to say as I was far too concerned about finding a comfortable position on the bed to formulate a more comprehensive reply.
“Well, can you tell I’m not wearing a bra, or not?” said Haven, one hand on her delightfully curvy hip.
Now, look, I certainly don’t know everything there is to know about girls, but the one thing that I do know is that you never want to give a wrong answer when they ask you about their appearance. But what was the wrong answer, in this case?
“Actually, I think you can tell a little,” said Haven after a long moment of staring me down. “But that’s a good thing! It proves that I’m becoming a woman.”
“Exactly!” I said, a wave of relief flooding throughout my body everywhere except for the region near my lap, which was, thankfully, still covered with a pillow.
“Listen, I know that some girls at school will say something, but who cares?” said Haven, a smile on her face. “Let ’em say what they want! I’m never going to be bullied into wearing a bra ever again.”
“You go, girl,” I said, hoping that Haven wouldn’t notice how faint and weak my voice sounded.
“All right, so the sweatshirt test passed. Now, let’s try something more revealing!” said Haven, and before I could react, she whipped off her top, her bare breasts shining there in the afternoon light streaming through her bedroom window for all to see.
There was literally nothing I could do or say, so I remained there, frozen in place, as Haven stalked over to one of the mounds of clothes that littered her bedroom until she found the garment she was looking for.
“I know it’s not summer quite yet,” said Haven as she slipped into a skimpy light yellow top. “But let’s see what this looks like.”
Wincing at the pain that resulted, all I could do was choke down one hard swallow, my throat hot and tight. Whereas the oversize sweatshirt had reduced Haven’s breasts to a soft outline beneath the thick fabric, the light yellow top left the outlines of her pert little nipples in perfect definition.
“Here I am, walking across the park or something. Watch, Lance, and tell me how I look,” said Haven, setting off for another little catwalk across her bedroom, and it was all I could do to stifle a groan that rose up from somewhere deep inside me.
“I think my boobies are the perfect size,” said Haven, pausing to give herself a long look in the mirror. “I mean, I’m definitely not a little girl anymore. But I’m also not, you know, like one of those cows with big old biddies.”
“Right,” I somehow managed to croak out in reply as I desperately squirmed to find a more comfortable position on her bed.
“I mean, my dad will probably have a fit,” said Haven with a fetching laugh. “But too bad! These are modern days, son! Time to free the nipple!”
“Mm-hmm,” was the only coherent reply I could muster as I took the opportunity of Haven looking at herself in the mirror to make some hasty adjustments to the crotch of my pants, which had somehow become bunched up in a painfully tight manner.
“Besides, if people want to stare at my ta-tas, let ’em!” said Haven with a grin as she turned and headed over in my direction. “All those sick freaks and creeps will be leering at young girls, no matter what they wear.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said as I desperately tried to make some micro adjustments to my position in order to reduce my discomfort.
“Lance!” squealed Haven as she plopped down on the bed next to me, giving me a playful slap on my shoulder. “You’re over here, grunting and groaning just like one of those sick pervs!”
“Ah,” I said, feeling a flush of heat rise to my cheeks as I used one hand to cling more tightly to the pillow covering my lap.
“Open your mouth, boy!” said Haven with a grin. “And tell me what you really think. Do I look cool, or am I coming across too desperate?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, edging a little further away from Haven.
“Lance, come on!” said Haven. “You’re acting weird. I asked you to come over today so you could give me fashion advice! What’s going on?”
“Nothing, nothing,” I said, hoping that Haven wouldn’t see the drop of perspiration that I could feel sliding down my face. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”
“Oh no, you poor boy,” said Haven, leaning in to give me a hug and then a quick peck on the cheek, a move that triggered a whole host of different sensations to pulse through my body. “Having another one of those hot dreams about meeting a cute guy?”
“Ah, no,” I said, mortified as I felt an intense heat radiating from my cheeks.
“Oh no?” said Haven with a giggle as she bounded to her feet. “Well, your entire face is red, so I think I figured out your secret! Oh, wait, I know who you were dreaming about. It was that guy from the music store!”
“Who?” I said, my mind whirling with confusion.
“You remember, Lance! We saw him last week when we were downtown,” said Haven, shooting me a grin. “He was kind of dreamy, I’ll admit. But I think he’s more... your type.”
“Right, right,” I said, my cheeks now aching from the burning heat emanating off them.
“Anyway, he was also too old for me,” said Haven. “I’m more into guys around my age.”
“Sure,” I said as I carefully wedged myself more upright on her bed, the pillow on my lap no longer a necessity.
“All right!” said Haven with a shriek of delight as she clapped her hands together. “Now I need your opinion on some other outfits. And we’ll start with a mini skirt to pair with this top.”
And with that declaration, I found myself lunging for the pillow once more as something from deep inside me sprang into action with a ferocity and intensity that I had never experienced before in my entire life.
I Feel So Delicious
As I sat there, watching Haven begin to dig through a pile of her clothes, I realized that my awful secret was now closer than ever to being revealed. But how had it gotten to this point?
Four years earlier, when Haven and her family had moved into my neighborhood, I hadn’t even been all that excited to see them arrive. After all, what did I need with a silly girl when my interests were playing baseball and watching cartoons on TV? Girls only cared about stupid stuff like make-up and dolls, so I had to force myself to give Haven a polite smile when my mother dragged me over to their house with a welcome casserole.
Over time, though, things changed. Haven had an infectious smile, and she seemed to be in a good mood nearly all of the time, which was totally different than the other girls in my class. And she was nice to me in a way that other girls weren’t. Perhaps most importantly, her mother was a fantastic cook, so it wasn’t long before I was regularly coming home with Haven after school to enjoy some freshly-baked brownies or other treats.
For about a year or so, everything had gone smoothly, and if you had told me that I’d be dreaming about her full, luscious lips, I would’ve thought you were crazy. But as time passed, both Haven and I started going through changes, and I suddenly found myself thinking about girls more than I ever had before in my life.
At age 14, I found myself having a full-blown crush on her. During school, I’d daydream about taking her somewhere for a picnic, her flashing green eyes smiling at me as we sipped on bubbly non-alcoholic cider and nibbled on those little fancy sandwiches they sell at the deli, and I would confess my love to her, and she would throw her arms around me and tell me she felt the same way.
But then everything changed when she went off to summer camp and came home, filled with stories about this cute boy named David she had met there, and it took all of my strength and willpower to hide the raging jealousy that I had felt inside me. Luckily, though, girls in my school started being nice to me, and I got distracted with their attention, and the crush that I had on Haven slowly faded away, and she was just the nice girl from next door again.
Or so I thought. Until the Incident, I had supposed that everything was under control.
“Ah, here it is,” said Haven, pulling out a skirt from the mound of clothes piled up near her closet. “I bought it at the mall with my babysitting money, but then I never had the courage to wear it in public before.”
“Oh,” I said, my throat so constricted that I could barely get out that feeble reply.
My heart began pounding wildly in my chest as I saw Haven slip out of her usual baggy sweatpants that she wore around the house, revealing a quick peek of her bare bottom, and I realized, to my utter shock, that she was not wearing any underwear at all.
“Wow, this is so short, but I love it,” said Haven after she had slipped on the skirt and then began turning and examining herself in front of the mirror.
Short? The skirt was almost microscopic. The little pleats or folds or whatever they were were making a delicious motion as she moved, giving me tantalizing glimpses of the upper edges of her shapely legs, and I felt a tremendous corkscrew of pressure in my groin as my body screamed its desire for her.
“Yes, it is short,” I somehow managed to stammer.
“Lance, you silly goose!” said Haven with a laugh. “Look at how red your face is! My gosh. This skirt isn’t that short, is it?”
“Uh,” was all that I could manage to croak in reply, my erection now threatening to rip free from my pants and rise up into the air like some kind of horny, questing monster, forcing me to jam the pillow even tighter over my lap.
“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you,” said Haven with a giggle. “I’ve also joined the No Underwear Club.”
I sincerely gave it my best effort to try and reply, but all that came out of my throat with a painful squeak.
“I read all about it on the internet, you know,” said Haven, a brief frown crossing her beautiful face. “It’s really not natural to be sealing off our... you know, downstairs, with bunches of fabric and stuff. My... treasure needs to breathe. There’s supposed to be all kinds of health benefits, you know.”
“Right,” I somehow managed to reply.
“But I think you’re right. This skirt is just way too short, especially without wearing any panties,” said Haven with a grin. “I wouldn’t want any pervy guys to get the right idea.”
“Sure,” I said, my dick now so hard that it felt as though it would snap in two under the terrible pressure of my jeans.
“Anyway, I didn’t mean to scare you if you got a glimpse of my treasure,” said Haven with an impish grin. “I know guys like you sometimes have a fear of stuff like that. But it’s just me, all right? Your friend, Haven.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, rivers of perspiration coursing down my forehead, and I sent up a silent prayer that Haven wouldn’t notice and start asking me questions.
“Still though, this skirt feels great!” said Haven, taking a few steps up and down before the mirror. “I mean, I love the freedom of how it feels on me. And without those damn panties, I really do feel good. I love it!”
“Yes,” I croaked in reply.
“Actually, I need to confess something to you,” said Haven, turning to face me, forcing me to start scanning around the room so that I wouldn’t have to meet your gaze. “I actually feel sexy. Isn’t that crazy? Just knowing that some guy might see me in this outfit and want to lose control is kind of turning me on.”
“Argh,” I replied, or something to that effect, my heart pounding so loud in my chest that I couldn’t even hear myself.
“I’d be mortified if any guy other than you found out about it,” said Haven. “But luckily, you’re my best friend! And I can trust you.”
All I could do in reply to that was give her a friendly nod and hope that she wouldn’t notice the sweat stain spreading across the front of my T-shirt.
“In fact, I feel absolutely delicious!” cried Haven with a grin as she once again began examining herself in the mirror, the tiny skirt swaying and moving in a way that tripled the painful torture emanating from my crotch, and I seriously began to wonder whether it was possible for a guy to blast off inside his jeans without any help.
Thankfully, just then, there was a knock at the door, and a moment later, Haven’s mother poked her head into the room.
“Hey you two, are you about ready for some of my famous lemonade?” she asked, the grin on her face somewhat faltering when she took in the skimpy outfit that her daughter was wearing.
“Heck yes, I am,” I squeaked out in reply, an enormous wave of relief coursing through my pain-wracked, sweat-soaked, miserable excuse for a teenage body.
“Okay, two lemonades coming right up!” said Haven’s mom with a cheerful smile. “And honey, open the window or something. Your friend Lance is looking a little peaked.”
God, how I loved that woman at that moment.