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#11
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Agreed, do tell!
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#12
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I don't remember the exact moment, but I'm imagining with the wife it started when we went out onto my first floor / ground floor balcony (if you can call it that) and shagged her against the railing. I had a small backyard and beyond that were some houses and an apartment complex. That was at night. In terms of actual public nudity, she went bottomless in the water at a beach we frequent in the late afternoon. She was swimming around while I had her bikini pants in the pocket of my swimmers. Yes, there were other people in the water, although they were probably 20 metres away. She stayed like that for a good 20 mins I'd say. It really built from that. Those early situations I didn't get to document, but since then I've been vigilant in documenting her exhibitionist tendencies.
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#13
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The play was Aristophane's comedy "Lysistrata". In the final act a character called "Peace" is introduced; that was her role, onstage about 15 minutes. You can dust off your Ancient Greek Lit to find this. Lots of theater groups stage this play, and some observe the strict costume requirements, which really are necessary to this story. And yes, there were people who came to every performance. |
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#14
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I think what started it for me was a night of strip poker with my ex girlfriend Stacie and some of our friends. Even though this wasn’t out in public the fact some of my friends were seeing my girlfriend, the one I got to have sex with, naked, really turned me on that night. While seeing the other girl naked for the first time was great it was still my girl being naked that had me hard. And just remembering that and posting about it again has me hard. LOL
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#15
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Quote:
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#16
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Our first year going to an ol' school biker rally had my wife's eyes wide open. She was aghast at all the going on's. She would not show anything. Then the second year we attended pretty much followed suit until the last might, when she left her blue jean jacket unbuttoned with nothing on underneath it. No one saw much of anything, and even with me standing right next to her it was difficult to catch a glimpse of her tits and boobs.
However, the next day (the last day of the rally) she had gotten a little pissed at me the night before for putting a box over my head with cutouts for my eyeballs and mouth, and writing "Free Breast Exam." The cutout for my mouth was large enough for women to stick their boob in. I had a number of taker's by the end of the evening. And I must say it was pretty enjoyable. But my wife didn't like my night time part-time job inspecting boobies. As a result, I think she felt that it was time for her to step up a little. We were watching a number of bikers pull out from the rally that day, and were eating a quick snack at the campground table before we also left. I noticed that she had on a blue jean skirt, but figured that she would change just prior to departure into her normal long jeans riding attire. It was at that time, she leaned over and started kissing my neck and biting on my ear. I responded and gave her a nice long wet kiss. She continued the response back. Then I reached up and undid a few buttons on her shirt. She was braless, and I gave both jugs a thorough feel. Then she leaned back against the table as if to say, "I am ready for more." I undid all the remaining buttons on her shirt pulled it open on both sides and leaned in and started kissing her tits. She didn't back away one bit. She leaned a little further back against the table and moaned while breathing heavy. A little crowd had started to gather to watch the activities. She appeared to be oblivious to the onlookers. So I started down to work a little under her skirt. i was surprised to find out that she was commando. While working on her boobs with one hand along with my mouth, I started stroking her pussy. She spread her legs out just as far as she could. Her mini skirt was now up around her waist, and I was fingering her while she was humping and growing wetter and wetter. Then she pushed my hand away, and said, "Let's go inside the tent." I was not one to argue, and we both made our way into that little pup tent. I noticed that most of the guys were still hanging around as I whipped her clothes off and shook out of mind too. she wrapped her legs over my shoulders and we commenced to fucking for all we were worth. I think she got two climaxes that time, and all the bikers outside the two open flaps on the tent got a great view of two balls and a pussy stretched out to accommodate one very hard, erect dick. So from that time on, she has been pretty good about flashing most everything and even swinging a little. |
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#17
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All the other actors had some kind of clothing (togas for the warriors, sheer material for their wives), but as the Nude Goddess she needed no clothing, and was in front facing the audience. The other actors used the surface of her body as a sort of topographic map to divide the country as the terms of truce to end the war. (The truce was the condition for the wives to stop withholding sex from their husbands.) She stayed still as they discussed her tits as the mountains, her nipples as the peaks, her pubic hair the forests, and vagina as the river dividing the forests. And so on, for her other parts. Her time in that pose was about 15 minutes, right up until final curtain. Yes, it was exciting! Last edited by MFN; 01-19-2020 at 06:21 PM. |
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#18
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That is truly amazing.
Wish there was video of that play. Sounds amazing! Thanks for sharing the additional details. |
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#19
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Anything beyond those facts would be fantasy, so over in the Fiction Section of OCC, I’ve written what the performance might have been like if imaginations could run wild. So, if you surf on over to https://forum.oneclickchicks.com/sho...d.php?t=179643 you'll find the extended version, which has slight departures from reality but enough to disqualify it as Non Fiction. When you read it, you'll know what's fantasy and what's real. |
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#20
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It has to start sometime (mid -1970s) and somewhere.
There were four girls at home. Mom was a stay at home mom, so money was tight. Dad had told us all that we could have our own cars the day we could afford to pay for one. My older sister had already gotten a job and a truck (she rode horses on the weekend). I could count on her for a ride if it was convenient and I could even borrow Mom’s car if our schedules permitted. But if I wanted my freedom, I needed a car of my own. I had to get a job. A steakhouse had opened on an end of town about five miles from home and they were always looking for help. I dressed for success and got a job as a hostess. My evenings and some weekends consisted of dressing in conservative black pants or skirt and a white blouse, welcoming the diners as they arrived, taking them to their tables and working the cash register as they left. There were no tips for the hostess, but I was paid well enough that within a month, I was able finance a used car. FREEDOM! Since it was the 70s in the south, I was one of the few white employees. The restaurant manager, kitchen manager, and a couple of the waitresses, a total of 5 or 6 out of the 20 or more on each shift. The cooks, busboys, miscellaneous servers, dishwashers and custodians were all black. And contrary to popular culture at the time, we worked as a team. The only ones who were shown any favoritism were the hardest workers. We got the choice of the best shifts and could get time off for school functions and the like. One of the older workers had been there long enough to manage to rent an apartment with a couple of friends. It seemed that most Friday and Saturday nights after closing there was always a get together of some sort at Nate’s. Jimmy and I were always getting invited, but I only mentioned it when I knew he had plans it would be difficult to get out of. Finally, on a night I knew we were going to his Grandmother’s, he said that he had seen her recently and he would call from my house as I was changing to say that we couldn’t make it. I reminded him that we would probably be the only white people there and likely the only couple. It didn’t matter. He knew a couple of the guys from picking me up and had even scored a bag or two from Nate when his usual connection was dry. I could hear him on the phone with his family as I found my bellbottom jeans and his favorite halter top. The top was a pale blue, tight fitting top made of a very light fabric. Maybe we would just go down to the river and fuck after he saw me. Well, that wasn’t gonna happen just yet. We headed to Nate’s as I reminded Jimmy of the likely makeup of attendees. He’s the sort of guy who has never really met a stranger and saw no problem. I was right. I don’t think there is anything we could have done to surprise the folks I worked with more than walking through the front door. It wasn’t a large crowd and I introduced Jimmy to the few people that he didn’t already know. There was almost no furniture in the apartment. Maybe the living room had been cleared for dancing. There were a few chairs and a stereo playing Motown songs. The kitchen table seemed to be where the alcohol and pot were along with a few more chairs. About that time Angelo walked in. Angelo was beautiful. He was one of the best cooks, was always friendly and light complected with piercing blue eyes. The guys on the softball team teased that he has just enough white in him to screw up his natural athletic ability. Did I say he was beautiful? He could have been on the cover of GQ anytime he wanted. As the music played, the three servers who had showed up began to dance. They came into the kitchen to get me and Jimmy said for me to go. Us four girls were having fun. Twerking wasn’t a thing back then. We called it grinding. We bumped butts, rubbed hips and slid up and down each other. Occasionally one of the guys (or two) would join in. But, mostly it was just us. We tended to take a break during slow songs for another beer or a joint. During one of those breaks, Jimmy nodded at my breasts. I looked down to see the shape of my nipples were clearly visible. That was one of the things I liked most about that top. But, usually the two of us were at a bar, concert, movie or a friend’s house and it really didn’t matter. I guess since Nate was a friend, we were good. But, this was different since usually we played cards or a board game and there was no spectacle like dancing. Jimmy wasn’t much of a dancer anyway. The apartment had heated up with all the people, so I didn’t have any pokies going on. But all the dancing had left my nipples puffy and easy to see. He said that I might want to consider just removing the halter top to cool the twins down a little and have a good time. He was sure the guys wanted to see them. It wasn’t that I hadn’t done that before, or that I was a prude. And, Jimmy didn’t have a jealous bone in his body. His standard answer was, “Be sure and rinse that out before you bring it home to me,” assuming the rest of my friends had the same benefits he did. That wasn’t always the case though. Sometime yes and sometimes no. He and the girls began to tease me. Nothing would have pleased them more that to embarrass the “proper”, white hostess. The girls continued to pick at me while we took a break. They laughed as they went back into the living room only to return and get me between songs. Midway through the second song, there was a tug on the back of my neck and a pull at my waist…..and off came to top. As I put my hands over my A cup boobies, Lynn ran to the door and tossed my top onto the steps out front. They got their wish, but my hands weren’t moving. Until…… Angelo came over to dance. We finished the song. He asked if I would like him to go retrieve my top and I said of course. All he wanted was one more dance with my hands moved. Three minutes and it would all be over. That was the longest three minutes of my life. It wasn’t any cooler in the apartment than before.* But, my nipples were so hard that they hurt. There were no areolas, only flesh colored boobs and rock hard nipples. And all eyes were on the two of us. The other girls laughed as they bumped me to get a giggle and Angelo had his hands on my waist for the occasional spin or to pull me in close. I must give him credit, he was a man of his word. As I stood there with a hand bra, Angelo brought my top back. He reached around my back with the bottom before tying the straps behind my neck. I’m sure the neighbors wondered why all the cheering. Who cared? I was clothed again. |
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