All characters in this story are fictional, and all are age 18 or older
Marty Berenstine looked at his wife, her near-nudity somewhat of a blur in his mind with so many younger, more nubile girls there on the stage with her.
“Your wife’s fuckin’ hot,” a young male said, his voice raised loud to be heard over the blaring music. “Totally sick tits.”
“Oh shit,” muttered Marty, glancing at the boy, seeing that it was one of the barely-out-of-high-school kids from his neighborhood back home. “Yeah, thanks man.” Feeling an unfortunate need to explain, Marty looked the youngster in the eye. “We just sorta wandered in here. Wanted a cold beer, you know?”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, man, that’s cool. We came for the titties.”
Marty muttered his second “Oh shit”, realizing the boy, Tyler, wasn’t alone. Marty recognized at least two of the four boys, and one of the two girls. Neighborhood kids, hanging out in this seedy old lakefront resort town, fifty miles from home.
“That’s Tracy. Tracy Chandler,” Tyler loudly said, pointing at a stunningly hot-bodied girl on the sun-drenched stage. “The one with the red hair. Do you know her? She lives, like, a couple blocks from you.”
“Chandler? No, don’t know them,” said Marty, shaking his head, wondering what the girl’s parents would think about her participating in a wet t-shirt contest in the backyard of a dive bar that smelled like stale beer, a contest in which some of the contestants were already stripped fully topless, wearing nothing now but shorts, bikini bottoms or panties. Tracy and Marty’s wife, Beth, were two of the brave topless ones.
“She won this a couple weeks ago. Five-hundred bucks. Awesome tits, right?”
“Yeah. I mean…yeah,” Marty said. He took a gulp of his beer, taking a moment to assess the girl’s amazing body. Her eyes and smile were gorgeous, but it was a little lower down that was truly special–wet, glistening, splendiferous big tits that were fully natural and somehow perfect, somehow magical. So delightfully awesome and flamboyant, yet they perfectly complimented her slender waist and elegant shoulders. A Playboy photographer from back in the magazine’s heyday would have chased her down the street and begged her to model for him.
Tyler was equally enthralled, but his eyes were on Marty’s wife. “Fuck yeah, Mrs. Berenstine’s fun, man,” he said, watching her as she danced suggestively to the loud heavy-metal music, her ass now facing the cheering crowd, her wet white panties clinging to her, her body doing something vaguely like twerking. “She oughta get a prize for most fun older woman.”
Marty smirked. Yes, she oughta, he thought.
She’d done this kind of thing before, Beth had, but never so close to home. The past times had been on far-away vacations, once in Daytona Beach, once in Memphis when she and Marty were there for a blues festival. Both times it was her idea, Marty knowing that her exhibitionist tendencies–which are usually well tamped down and hidden–need to come out and play every once in a great while. It surprised him that today turned out be one of those once-in-a-whiles, but it was what it was; she was up there on stage, all wet and pretty much naked. He just wished the neighborhood kids weren’t there to see it.
Marty noticed none of them had drinks in their hands. “You’re not drinking? How old are you guys?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tyler said. “I’m nineteen. Yeah, I guess all of us are. You wanna buy us drinks? That’d be awesome.”
Marty smirked again, noticing the big, nasty-looking bouncers guarding the stage, and the muscular biker-looking dude tending bar. “Yeah, sorry, I can’t do that. You don’t want us all to get thrown out of here, do you? You’d miss the rest of the tittie show.”
Tyler smiled, turning his gaze back to the stage, noticing the huge smile on Beth Berenstine’s face as she played peek-a-boo with the crowd, her thumbs under the sides of her soaking wet panties, giving the riled-up audience flashing looks at her middle-aged pussy. “Wooo Hooo!” hollered Tyler, and his friends all whooped it up, too.
The crowd clearly loved Beth’s enthusiasm and chutzpah, she being the biggest titted and most risk-taking of the ‘older gals’ on the stage. There weren’t many of them, only three that you’d call middle-aged, the bulk of the contestants being more like college aged or twenty-somethings. But yes, Beth’s tits were still rather extraordinary for her age; voluptuously big, firm, ‘F’-cup sized eye-catchers that were exuberantly nippled. Her wet hands moved up her body and played with the wet flesh of the big things, fondling them and waggling them, and the crowd responded.
“Fuck yeah, she’s gonna make it through to the next round no problem,” Tyler said, whooping as loud as he could when the guy on stage raised Beth’s arm to get the rowdy crowd to vote on her with the loudness of their whoops and applause.
Marty wondered if this was good, Beth staying nearly nude in front of these neighbor boys for another round. He’d seen her strip all the way, at the wet t-shirt contest in Memphis, and he remembered the wild look in her eyes that night when she rejoined him afterward, her hair a wet mess.
This was now, though, and he caught her eye and he saw that same wildness in her again as she got a roaring, noisy vote of approval from the crowd. Marty wondered if she recognized Tyler standing next to him, or the other boys that he was sure she knew. Maybe even Tracy Chandler, maybe they’d talked backstage as they were preparing. Marty wondered if Beth was unexpectedly living out a fantasy, stripping and dancing as much for these neighborhood boys as for herself.
“Dudes, you recognize her, right?” called Tyler to his friends. “Mrs. Berenstine, from almost across the street from me. She’s animal. Did you know?”
The other boys, amazed at the realization that it was her, did not know. Marty noticed their eyes were now wider, their smiles bigger. He took a big, long gulp of his beer. She’s animal, he wondered? Must be a good thing.
And so Marty watched this final round, the occasional comment from Tyler and his friend becoming surreal as Beth went full-monty nude on stage. Buckets of clear, cold water were poured over her, the throbbing metal music turned up even louder now. Mimicking one of the other girls, Beth went to all-fours on the stage, her back arched downward with her ass up, seemingly positioned for some good porny doggy style. The crowd ate it up, and she began to writhe, her wet pussy and dark little asshole on wide open display for every horny eye in the place.
Marty noticed that Tracy wasn’t acting nearly as raunchy, the girl staying on her feet for the duration, keeping her tiny wet thong-style panties on, relying on her stripper-smooth dance gyrations and her clearly best-in-show tits to hold the gaze, and the votes, of the whooping humanity before her.
It all ended too soon for the boys, but Marty was glad to see Beth up on her feet again, her face red and bashful looking, either from the realization of how far she’d just gone or from the thrill of doing it in front of boys she knows. Marty wasn’t sure which. Everything was a blur in his mind now, including Beth coming in third, a prize winning finish that made her smile so brightly, her arms in the air, her nudity on full-frontal display for just a few more glorious seconds.
“Another five-hundred for your friend,” Marty said to Tyler. “She outta go into the business.”
“Fuck, that was so awesome!” gushed Tyler. “Mrs. Berenstine! Third Place! Holy shit!”
Marty nodded, hoping word of Beth’s fifty-dollar-prize winning performance wouldn’t get spread around the neighborhood back home. “Tell you what,” he blurted. “I’ll buy you a couple cases of beer, not here but outside somewhere, if you guys all promise to not tell anybody she was here.”
“Fuck yeah, it’s a deal,” said Tyler.
Marty looked at Beth on the stage, the first, second, and third place winners still up there, basking in the adulation and appreciation of fifty or so cheering people. Put your clothes on, dear, he wanted to say to her. At least put on your panties for chrissake.
It was a long ten minutes until Marty saw her again, her body dry and clothed, her hair towel dried, combed, and messed up with her fingers again so it looked halfway normal. He’d spent the waiting minutes chatting somewhat uncomfortably with some of the youngsters, and when Beth arrived, looking a bit embarrassed and bashful in her wrung-out but still wet CAPE COD t-shirt, he could sort of tell that she’d known all along that these neighborhood ‘acquaintances’ were here watching her go all exhibitionist crazy.
“I can’t believe I got a prize!” she said to Marty, showing him the fifty-dollar bill, her excitement held in check but still palpable.
“You were awesome, Mrs. Berenstine,” Tyler said. “Animal. Fuck yeah.”
“Apparently you were animal,” Marty said, himself blushing a bit at these circumstances.
“I guess you got lucky,” Beth said, eyes twinkling at Marty. “Seeing Tracy Chandler all…like that.”
“Do you know her?”
“Do I know her? Marty, she’s Janet’s daughter.”
“Janet? You mean, from your wine group? Oh my God!”
Beth watched the wheels turning in Marty’s head, seeing him put it all together — the red hair, the gorgeous eyes and smile, the man-slaying tits. “I told Tracy we’ll keep this quiet, okay? If Janet found out I don’t think she’d be too happy about it.”
“Oh, sure,” Marty said. “Yeah, I sorta made a deal with the guys, too. It’s gonna cost us a couple cases of beer, but, I thought maybe it was best to sort of…keep a lid on this, you know?”
Beth smiled embarrassedly, knowing she’d gone full slut much too close to home. “I get carried away,” she said, taking Marty’s arm, snuggling close against his side, “but oh my God that was fun.”