My name is Chelsea, and I was going to California to visit my mother and father. They had been living there for two years, and I saw them periodically through these years. They moved because my father got a new job, but I wanted to and they agreed that I should finish high school at home in Vermont. I had been accepted to an elite high school, and it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Let me describe myself, I am 18, 5'7", 125 pounds, 34C breasts, brown eyes, tan complexion, and light brown hair.
My flight left at 7 a.m., and my father had paid for a limousine to pick me up at my aunt's house. I had been living with her since my parents moved away. It was May, and the weather was awful. It was only 50 degrees, and the rain that was forecasted was indeed falling, and falling hard.
It was a Saturday and I had been out the night before, so I really didn't want to get up at four-thirty to be at the airport by six. I was dead tired, so I slept through my alarm, and woke up twenty minutes before the limo was scheduled to arrive. In my rush to get ready, I showered quickly, dried my shoulder length hair, and put on a pair of short khaki shorts and a white tank top. I should have been dressed warmer because of the weather, but I didn't want to have a lot of clothes on when I got to California. I bypassed the formality of underwear, because I wanted to be comfortable and didn't have the time to find a good, comfortable pair of panties or a bra. The limo arrived promptly at 5:30, and I was still drying my hair, so I quickly grabbed my luggage and a sweater and ran out to the car.
It wasn't a traditional stretch limo, but one of the Lincoln Towncar-type cars they use. I would be right in the backseat, not far from the driver. I had neglected to put on the sweater that I brought with me, so on the way from the house to the car my white tank top turned slightly translucent from the rain, and my hair promptly went back to the wet state I had just spent ten minutes trying to rid it of. I am a confident person, and I knew that the driver of the limo would like to look at me and my tits sitting in the back of his car for the half hour trip to the airport. I hopped into the back seat and smiled hello to him. It was clear that I wasn't wearing a bra, when he turned around to greet me; his eyes quickly went to my chest. To give him a little more, I picked my wet shirt up and let it fall back down and stick to my tits again.
"It's raining pretty hard out there." I looked away from him casually, and he turned around and began to drive. I noticed that he adjusted the mirror down slightly, so he could see my boobs, but I also slouched down so I could see his face at the same time.
We chatted, and soon I became quite uncomfortable in my wet shirt. It wasn't drying like I expected it to, and I really wanted to change it. It was also an excuse to give this guy a look.
"Umm, do you mind if I change my top? It is starting to get quite uncomfortable." I asked.
