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-highschool 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, it’s hot out. 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 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 down below 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 he and she 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 all want 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 roaringly 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 friends becoming surreal as Beth stripped off her panties, going 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 got down on hands and knees 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 oughta 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 Christ’s sake.

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.”

Tracy appeared, dressed in shorts and a stunning little string bikini top, the thin white t-shirt she’d worn on stage now all wadded up in her hand. Giving Beth a nice hug, she blushed bright red as her eyes went to Marty’s. “Hi Mr. Berenstine. I’m Tracy. I guess you know my mom.”

“I do. Yeah, nice woman. You share her…beauty,” Marty said, wishing he’d said something on a different topic. Problem was, Beth’s wine friend Janet is one of the most attractive women he’s ever met, and there wasn’t much else on his mind in this moment.

“It’s kinda nuts that you’re here,” Tracy said, still blushing red. “Your…Mrs. Berenstine, she killed it, right?”

“Oh, totally,” Marty said, trying to act casual. “You too. You were…animal.”

Tracy smirked, her blush flaring even redder. She knew Marty was trying to be cool, and she appreciated it. She wanted to smile, so she did. A bashful but flirty smile, it shocked Marty to see so much of Janet in it.

Tyler, suddenly near Marty, said, “Dude, we’re outta here. Can we, maybe, do that transaction? There’s a store up the road a ways.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” Marty said, disappointed he was being swept out of Tracy’s lovely smiling aura. “I guess…we’ll follow you? I don’t want to hand it over in the parking lot, though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said. “We’re camped, like, just up at the next turn-off from the store. You can follow us to the store, and then follow us up there. There’s nobody around, it’s not like a real campground or anything.”

Marty nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Just remember, I’m buying your silence, right?”

“Dude, totally.”

Marty smiled, wondering what it would be like to be young again, free spirited and carefree, camping by a summer lake with three of the cutest girls he’d ever seen.

Up the road, following a snarling, loud-mufflered Subaru WRX and a sleek Volkswagen Golf with fat tires and blacked-out taillights, Marty wheeled his white Camry quietly into a parking spot next to them at the gas station convenience store. Inside, he found the type of beer the kids desired, and with two cases charged to his card, he carried them out to the back seat of his car.

“Do you feel like a teenager again?” asked Beth, smiling. “I do.”

“You didn’t look like one today,” Marty said, as he sidled back behind the wheel. “Jesus Christ, Beth, you looked like pure woman up there on that stage.”

“Oh my God, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m not the only one who thought so,” said Marty. “Tyler was…excited.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, he…he was…hard? You could see it?”

Marty chuckled. “Jesus, I didn’t think of that, but, probably, yeah. No, I meant he was…enthusiastic. About you.”

“Oh my God,” Beth said, the full weight of what she’d done, and who’d seen her do it, finally hitting her. “I think I’ll be jumping you as soon as we get home,” she said. “Want a blowjob on the highway? We haven’t done that in a long time.”

Pulling out onto the two lane road again behind the Subaru and the Golf, Marty smiled. “You know guys never say no to blowjobs, right? I mean, it’s not in our DNA.”

Beth smiled too, loving how sexy this day had turned out. The day trip to the lake was supposed to be for lunch and a little antiquing, but mediocre barbecue and some tasty beer at what turned out to be a biker bar had led to so much more. The wild thrill of her unbounded exhibitionism was still with her, a feeling sort of like adrenaline but mellower and nicer as she spun back the memories of the last hour in her mind. It surprised her how easy and fun it had all felt this time — the baring of her breasts; the amusingly lecherous eyes of the crowd; the baring of her pussy; the down on the floor, fully nude mimicking of the dirtiest, most fun kind of pure sex. She thought about what Marty had just said, about Tyler being an enthusiastic spectator, not of the other, younger girls, but of her. Smiling as Marty drove, she didn’t speak of these thoughts.

Just moments later the two rasping imports made a hard left, coming to rest on a sandy turn-off next to the somewhat quiet country road. A noticeable pathway, sandy and well-trodden, led through a thicket of sand cherry and cottonwood. Toward the lake, Beth presumed.

“This is it. Wanna check it out?” asked Tyler.

“Yeah, sure,” said Marty, hauling his middle-aged bones out of his car. “Beer’s in the back. Is it a long walk?”

“No, it’s like, not far,” Tyler said, as he and his friend Matt took the cases of beer from the Camry’s back seat. “I’m glad there’s no other cars here. We were worried when we left our stuff here.”

“Justin, how’s your Mom?” asked Beth, addressing one of the other, quieter boys. “She had her ankle in a cast, last I knew.”

“Oh, yeah,” Justin said, quietly embarrassed to be talking to Beth after seeing her the way she was at the contest. “She’s good now. She got it off last week.”

The strong afternoon sun beat down on the group, Beth feeling particularly sticky with her still-damp t-shirt on. She and Marty brought up the rear on the short hike, following the seven youngsters down the pathway and into the shade.

In just a few minutes the trees opened up to full sunshine, Lake Ontario stretching into oblivion, its placid waters on this hot afternoon barely tickling the sandy shore with ripply waves.

“Oh my Gosh,” Beth said, looking around at the tiny but perfect little beach. “This is so private here. How did you find it?”

“I think Jordan found it, right Jor?” said Tyler.

Jordan, another boy Beth casually knew though his mother, nodded. “Yeah, I was looking for a place to fish.”

“Good job,” Beth said, sounding like the soccer mom she used to be. “You guys definitely need to work on your tents, though. Do those things actually keep you dry?”

She was referring to the ragtag camp pitched from stakes of wood and tarps, all of it looking like a good wind would blow it all away. Sleeping bags were disheveled after last nights use, Beth noting that there weren’t enough of them to go around — some doubling up had almost certainly happened here. Four boys and three girls, she counted, wondering who goes with who.

“I might buy a big tent when they go on sale in the fall,” said the only boy Beth didn’t know.

“That’s a good plan. Hi, I’m Lilibeth,” Beth said, extending her hand in a formal way. “Call me Beth, though. Everyone else does. What’s your name?”


“Hi Sean. Did you meet Marty?”

“Not really.”

“All of you, call us Marty and Beth, okay you guys?” said Beth. “I always feel old when people call us Mr. and Mrs. Berenstine.”

The first to test these adult waters was Tracy, smiling, her big beautiful eyes looking out through the rose-colored lenses of wire-rimmed round sunglasses. She asked, “Beth, wanna drink with us and party a little? Jordan’s got some rippin’ weed.”

Beth smiled at her, feeling like Tracy was a new friend, a fellow traveler on the wet t-shirt highway. “I still can’t believe it’s legal now in New York State. I haven’t tried it yet. Well, not since…before you guys were born.”

“Oh, shit, really?” said Tyler. “You used to burn it? That’s so cool. How ’bout you Mr….what’s your name again?”

“Marty. Yeah, Beth and I, we…I mean, it was a long time ago. Yeah, it used to be fun tokin’ it up, catchin’ a little buzz.”

“Cool. You guys are awesome,” said Tyler. “Have a seat, let’s pass some beers around.”

Just five minutes later, after the rippin’ good weed had made a couple of rounds, Beth was as high as she’d ever been, giggling as she fumblingly passed the pipe to Marty for his third lungfull. “Oh my God, I’m so fucking high! ” she said.

Marty chuckled, his mind a buoyant balloon filled with helium. “Yeah!” he said, smiling in a goofy way as he tried to line the pipe up with his already inhaling lips.

“So Beth, what made you do what you did today?” asked Tyler. “Is it, like, your jam?”

“Yeah, it’s my jam!” laughed Beth. “No, I don’t know, it’s just…so fun. Tracy, do you feel that way? Isn’t it just…so fun? ”

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “I mean, it’s a total turn-on. It’s, like, different than being horny, but kind of similar, right?”

“Yup,” Beth said, nodding, smiling knowingly. “I mean, I know why guys don’t do it, they’d be all hard with big ol’ boners. Us girls, our lady boners don’t show.”

Tracy smiled.

“I mean, it’s a good thing they pour water all over us, it kinda hides all us girls’ wet pussies,” Beth said, the words flowing from her stoned mind in an unfiltered way. “Am I right, Trace? I hope it’s not just me. I just feel so ready, for anything, when I’m up there. I mean…if Marty had jumped up and started fucking me I woulda yelled ‘Yeah, do it!’ and started laughing probably. A fuckin’ live sex show right there in front of everybody.”

“Fuck yeah. You should have, Marty,” said Tyler.

“Fuck yeah,” said Sean.

Tracy giggled, smoke leaking from her smile. “Beth, you’re savage. Marty, would you do that?”

Marty chuckled. “I doubt it, but, Jesus Christ, if I was this high…”

“They don’t really do that anywhere, do they,” said Beth. “A live sex show, I mean. I wouldn’t mind watchin’ it.”

“Oh, so now you’re a voyeur, too?” said Marty. “I guess exhibitionism and voyeurism pretty much go together.”

“Those are some big fuckin’ words,” said Tyler. “I like ’em.”

Autumn, the quietest of the three girls, giggled. “You can’t like ’em without understanding ’em.”

“I understand ’em,” said Tyler. “Exhibitionism is showin’ it, voyeurism is watchin’ it. Which do you like to do?”

Autumn shrugged. “Showin’ it, I guess.”

“Nice,” Tyler said. “You got a bra on, right? Did you pick it ’cause it’s ugly or ’cause it’s pretty?”