Janice and Mie Go on Vacation

Warning: This story contains partner swapping, a threesome, a memory of group sex, references to anal sex, a lesbian scene, light bondage, and allusions to incest.

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My husband Mike and I were driving to New York. I was a little annoyed because Mike freaked out when he learned the prices of hotels in New York. He decided that we should stay with one of his old college friends. The friend Jake lived in a house way out in Queens. It would be quite a trip on subways to get into Manhattan. But there would be no huge hotel bill to pay.

Mike told me about his friend Jake and Jake's wife Susan. Jake works for Goldman Sachs and is not hurting for money. Susan is an academic and she is highly competitive by nature.

"Susan will give you a run for the money," Mike said, smiling while he teased me. I myself am hyper competitive. I am a medical doctor, but without a practice. I work in an emergency room. Such a profession is not for everyone; you never know what the next emergency will be, from a bad cold, to a broken bone, all the way to heart attacks, to horrific and contagious diseases like Ebola, to car accidents, and to one of the worst: motorcycle accidents.

My work experience has given me a sort of sangfroid. Nothing phases me, and in the face of most anything I can remain calm and simply get the job done. So I was not worried, but I did not want another woman to outshine me, especially because of the effect it would have on Mike. He is highly susceptible to sexy, seductive women.

"Is Susan pretty?" I asked, giving a rare display of insecurity.

"I haven't met her yet, but according to Jake she is drop dead gorgeous. She was a runway model while she earned her PhD in Philosophy," he said.

"Well, that sounds intimidating," I said.

I could tell that Mike was looking forward to the catty competition of two overachieving females.

Mike chuckled. "Don't worry my love, you are the sexiest woman I know and certainly sexier than any wife of Jake could ever be," he said.

I thought about what Mike just said. I do have a nice body, and what Mike especially likes is my large boobs. Runway models typically have small boobs, and are usually too skinny, I thought to myself. Such thoughts were comforting, given my insecurity.

Mime ruined my comfort zone when he added, "I think Jake said that Susan did a lot of underwear modeling, actually. Apparently she has great boobs." I groaned inwardly.

Mike was always pushing me to dress 'sexy.' Sometimes he confused sexy with sexist. He wanted his 'little wife' (that's me; I'm not really diminutive, but I'm fine boned and give a fragile appearance) to be an exhibitionist, and he was always pushing me in that direction, so far with only limited success.

I liked that Mike thought of me as his 'little wife.' I liked that he tried to show off some of my female assets to other men. I liked that he thought I was sexy.

It was always such a relief after I came home from the ER feeling as though I had just played God. In the ER I did not exist as a woman, but only as a doctor, and one that people were afraid would bring them bad news: news of death, permanent disability, life threatening illness, need for operations, and so on.

I was also the person they put their hopes on. It was an awesome responsibility, and I found it draining.

Only the mild injuries, or the people who had foolishly come to the ER with only a bad cold, had ever noticed my body or my pretty face. None of my patients had ever tried to flirt with me; but that is a good thing if you are an ER doctor, I can assure you.

This all made it especially nice to come home to my horny husband who delighted in my femininity. I always let him paw me to his heart's content. I was a girl who never said no.

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Mike's one big success at pushing me into mild exhibitionism came on a vacation trip to France. He convinced me to go topless on the beaches of the French Riviera. He cock was hard constantly while I had my top off. He was also gawking at all the stunningly gorgeous French women who were also topless on the beach. He was a happy camper.

I was, too. I enjoyed seeing my true love's constant erection. It made me feel wanted, desired. I also enjoyed the looks I got from other men. Men, especially tourists, would walk the beach checking out the topless sunbathing women. All of us women secretly enjoyed the lustful attention, and none more so than I.

We rented a paddle boat (known as a pedalo at the French beaches) and took it far from shore. Out there nobody could see us well, and we were relatively invisible, so Mike finally got his victory over my reticence. He had me remove my bottoms, too. We swam around naked. He was very excited. So was I actually, although I never admitted it to him.

Back on the pedalo after our swim, I decided to give Mike a blowjob. I hate giving blowjobs, but I wanted to so something special for Mike. But he was nervous being exposed like that. He could not get an erection.

I enjoyed the asymmetry: He always wanted me to expose parts of myself in various ways, but when it was his turn he was so intimidated he did not enjoy it. I did not push the point. Intelligent women never, ever discuss erectile dysfunction with their mates.

Getting back to admitting I was excited by the experience, I guess I did admit it, at least implicitly. Back at the hotel I practically forced him to take me as soon as we entered our room. Once in our room Mike was instantly hard and ready to go. We almost did not make it to the bed. When we did, it was a memorable experience.

He took me to dinner that evening and at his suggestion I went without a bra. I didn't see it as a big deal, since earlier that same day I was topless at the beach. But as I looked around me in the restaurant, every single other woman, French or otherwise, was wearing a bra and was demurely dressed. I quickly realized that what was acceptable for the beach was no longer acceptable when one was in town, away from the beach.

Mike had me unbutton my blouse to the point where one could see plenty of my boobs. My boobs are slightly on the large side, but nevertheless it is still comfortable for me to go without a bra. If my boobs were any bigger, it would not be. Their size is right at the limit.

It did not bother me much, because this was in Nice, France, where we knew nobody. It did in fact bother me a little, however, because now I was behaving outside the norm of acceptable behavior. It made some sense to me. We were on vacation, but Nice was a city, people lived there and worked, and were not always lying topless on the beaches. In any event, that's the way it was. But I was cool in my risqué state, because I was in no danger, since Mike was there to protect me. So I just relaxed and enjoyed myself.

Needing to be like God when I am in the ER, it was nice to become Mike's 'cute little wife' and to do as he said, and to let him protect me. I enjoyed not having to make decisions; I enjoyed being a bit pseudo submissive around Mike. It was a welcome change from the role of God at work. Sometimes I wondered just how 'pseudo' the submissive aspect actually was.

I floated through that vacation with my mind far away and on vacation as well. I let myself unwind, knowing I was in Mike's strong and capable hands. Mike made the decisions, even to what I wear, or what I left off, such as a bra, and at times, even panties. It was good for me. It was restorative.

Up to now, that was the most exhibitionist Mike had gotten me. I thought he had done pretty well. But Mike is hard to please. Mike is frustrated that he is not able to convince me to do that again. I think he does not understand how important the context is. It is easy for me to go topless, for example, when lots of other women are going topless all around me. Too bad we're no longer on vacation. Too bad we're no longer on the beaches of the south of France.

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I was wearing a light sweater and a skirt in the car, and dressed like that is how I was planning to meet Jake and Susan. We'd be tired and wrinkled after the long drive. I always wear skirts, because my legs are good, and I like to show them off. Today I was wearing a mid-thigh length skirt, much too long for Mike's taste, but at the limit considered acceptable for a grown women in the medical profession. In my opinion the skirt was flattering, and I looked sexy in it. Mike just always wants more.

Mike always wants me to be in danger of flashing my panties. But even Mike knew you do not show up at the home of his friends, meeting them for the first time, in a skirt where you are flashing your panties whenever you sit slightly less than perfectly.

When we got there, I met Susan and my worst fears were realized. She was a vision of beauty. She was wearing a one-piece hostess outfit with harem pants. Her breasts were not tiny, as I had thought they would be. She was also not anorexic, but rather she was quite shapely.

Her top was low cut and showed off her spectacular cleavage. The harem pants clung to her perfect bubble butt. I was intimidated. She looked hot. Actually, she looked sizzling hot. I looked nice, but compared to her I had a ho-hum appearance. I took her stunning appearance as a challenge. Mike was clearly enjoying the view.

But aside from being intimidated - and I should not have been, it was due to my competitive nature - I discovered that Susan was truly a delightful person. We were destined to become good friends.

The jury was out with Jake; the way he looked at me, almost with sexual hunger, made me nervous. He did not have the appreciative smile men often have when looking at a pretty woman. Instead he had the dangerous smile of a sexual predator who is looking at a pretty woman.

I was hoping it was simply my problem with being too sensitive. How could he not also be delightful if someone as wonderful as Susan married him? I decided I was overthinking this.

The upshot is that I liked them both instantly. I also realized my wardrobe was all wrong. Susan dressed elegantly, and was not afraid to show some skin. I did not like the way my husband Mike looked at her. He was practically drooling. I wanted Jake not to want to take me to bed, but nevertheless to drool over me.

Jake could fantasize about bedding me. That would be fine. Indeed, it would be splendid. But I did not want him to blur fantasy and reality.

I was fairly sure I could arrange for my husband Mike to drool over me. I also wanted him to be proud that I was his woman. I know that seems strange for a highly competent, all business ER doctor, but this was a vacation and I wanted the world of work to be far away from my thoughts just then.

The next day Mike and I took the long subway ride from deep Queens into Manhattan. It took a little over 90 minutes. I hit all the stores: Saks Fifth Avenue, Barneys, and lots of the boutiques of the Upper East Side on Madison Avenue. I met up with Mike for a late lunch, dragging shopping bags galore. In the afternoon, I took him shopping in Soho.

"Maybe we should hire a Sherpa to accompany you," Mike said sarcastically, as he carried six of my shopping bags while I dragged him through SoHo. (I did not tell him that in addition my purchases from Saks and from Barney's were to be delivered to Jake's house the next day.)

He did not mind, however, because he got to watch me try on outfit after outfit, offering his opinions, often seeing me only in a bra and panties, right there in the store. One outfit was best without a bra, and he truly loved watching me model that one. He always chose the sexiest outfit, of course. Once a decision was made he would plunk down his American Express platinum card.

I changed into an outfit to wear back to the home of Jake and Susan. It was a sheer, transparent dress. It was a little short on me. It fell to quite a distance above mid-thigh. It also came with a detachable slip.

Without the slip, you could see both my bra and my panties quite clearly through the dress. There was nothing too outrageous about the dress, but it was not the type of dress one would wear to work, unless of course one wore the slip under it. I wore the slip.

The dress showed off a lot of my legs below its hem, and were I to wear it without the slip it would show off my legs even above the hem of the dress, all the way up to my panties, due to its sheer, transparent nature. As I said, I wore the slip.

I wore black lace panties and a matching bra underneath the dress and slip. You could see the black color of my underwear through both the slip and the dress. I felt it made the dress sexy. This was not subtle, but it was correct, albeit barely. Of course, I could have easily worn beige underwear. That would have been more modest. But I knew Mike would prefer the black underwear. I was right.

When we got to their house with all of our packages, and more to arrive the next day, Susan greeted us with drinks all around. They were cocktails she had made herself. The primary alcohol she had used was tequila, and what was nice was that she used a super high-end tequila. The cocktails were wonderful. I drank mine quickly, since I needed to, after seeing the way Susan was dressed.

Susan was wearing a matching outfit, where the top was backless and had a deep, plunging V neck. The plunging neckline showed off the inside sides of her boobs. She wore no bra (the outfit did not allow one) and from the side you got quite extensive sneak peeks of the outside sides of her boobs. The bottom tightly hugged her ass, and was long in the back, short in the front, and slit, so one could see practically up to her crotch. In spite of all that, she looked elegant and correct.

I smiled and drank my drink. I answered Susan's questions while she asked about all we did in the city that day. Mike just stared at her, gawking openly. He was clearly in awe. Susan ignored him, as did I.

We sat down, Mike positioning himself to try to look up Susan's skirt. Happily for me, Susan was adept at sitting in the right way, so that he could not see her panties. (I just assumed she was wearing panties; I was beginning to realize anything was possible with Susan. She likes an audience.) Half an hour later Jake came in, complaining of the traffic.

Jake kissed Susan, saying, "You look great, sweetheart. Can I have one of those cocktails, too?" Susan got up and fetched him one, her hips wiggling sexily as she walked. I could not compete with her; I simply silently admitted defeat to myself.

A little later Mike got me alone. "You're losing, honey," he taunted me. "You are sexier than Susan is. It's time to remove your slip. Maybe your bra, too? Susan keeps asking about your clothes; show her the features of this dress."

I was working on my third of Susan's cocktails at this point, and we had not had dinner yet, so I was pretty drunk. Mike kept at it, and as I said earlier, I was relaxed and letting Mike make the decisions. Still, I hesitated. Finally, I decided what the hell.

I felt that I could not remove my bra, but certainly I could remove the slip.

I felt that I could not remove my bra, but certainly I could remove the slip.

I said to Susan, "This dress has a detachable slip. Would you like to see how it looks with the slip detached? Mike likes it that way."

Susan was enthusiastic, and she ushered me to the library. Yes, their Queens mansion had a library room. The walls were lined with books. Green leather 'library chairs' that one could sink into were discreetly placed in the corners of the room. Reading lamps were next to them.

I took off the dress and detached the slip, and put the dress back on. I could not see how I looked, since there was no mirror in the library. But I had done this in the store so I knew.

The dress was see-through, with little polka dots throughout. You could plainly see my pretty lace black bra caressing my boobs. Everything was plainly visible. Yet I was not nude above the waist, making it revealing and sexy, but within acceptable bounds. You could also clearly see my black lace panties.

When I entered the room, both men whistled, and Susan almost spilled her drink. Jake said, "Wow. Stunning, Janice."

Susan said, being evil and testing just how far I would go, "Have you tried it without your bra?" There was some sarcasm, overlaid with annoyance, in her voice.

"No, I have not yet," I said slowly, trying not to slur my words. The three cocktails were taking effect fully at this point.

"I think she should," Jake said. "I'll bet the effect is stunning. What do you think, Mike?"

Susan shot a look of anger at Jake. Daggers were in her eyes.

Mike said, "I agree. Janice, lose your bra and let's see the full effect, shall we?"

Caught up in the moment, and listening to Mike as I love to do when on vacation, I just nodded, and turning around I ducked into the library. I removed the dress and next removed my bra. I put the dress back on and breathed deeply.

I returned to the living room to face Susan and the two men. I did a twirl, showing off the dress, and the skirt rose a little as I twirled, but not too much as to expose my panties, even if they were clearly visible through the dress. I gave the three of them by best smile.

Everyone was looking at my boobs. They are my best feature, in my opinion. My areolas are a beautiful shade of pink, and they are large. Jake, Mike and Susan could see my entire boobs through the polka dots. I looked hyper sexy like that. The two men whistled and applauded, and Susan smiled graciously.

"Come to the front hall, my dear," Susan said. "There's a full-length mirror there, and you can see how lovely you look in the dress."

I followed her. Even though I was drunk, I was horrified. The dress hid nothing. I was basically showing off my bare boobs with a false veneer of modesty provided by the dress.

Jake had followed us to the front hall, and he saw the look of horror on my face. "Be a good hostess, Susan. Why don't you undress a bit, too?"

Susan looked at him. Her look was amazing. It was questioning (such as 'Are you nuts?'), mixed with fierce anger, masked by a forced smile from being a hostess. I saw all of that in her face.

I am good at reading faces. I often have to give bad news in my job as an ER doctor. Sometimes the patient has died, for example. Other times it is an AIDS diagnosis. Still other times it is a diagnosis of an inoperable, advanced cancer. I need to read the faces of the loved ones to figure out how to break the news.

I saw Susan's face change to one of 'You're on, you bastard. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.' Mike now joined us, just in time to see Susan gracefully disrobe, standing before us clothed only in black panties. (So she was in fact wearing panties, I thought.)

We went back to the living room, me in my dress with no bra and everything visible, and Susan clad only in her black panties. Her panties were black lace, too, but they were skimpier than mine were.

Susan got us all more drinks. I declined, since I was already slurring my words and knew if I continued I might be vomiting in the toilet. The men however drank happily, and so did Susan.

Susan had ordered Chinese takeout, and Jake dared her to answer the door when the food came. She said she would not do it. Mike then dared me to get the food. All eyes were on me. Damn you, Mike: He knew I could not resist a dare, and besides, I am a closet exhibitionist.

I went to the door in my dress, with all of me visible right through it. I beckoned to Mike so he came with me. I needed the comfort of his protection next to me. Jake came, too. Susan, dressed only in her panties, hung back.

The deliveryman gave me the food that I handed to Jake, and Mike gave me cash to pay the man. The deliveryman was staring at my boobs the entire time, but once he had the money his eyes drifted down to my black lace panties.