At this point, Phil and I had been dating for about a year. We lived in Austin, TX, but both of us loved to travel. We took trips often -- to Berlin, New York, Las Vegas. Whenever we went anywhere we liked to make up stories about who we were. Sometimes we'd be celebrating our engagement. Sometimes we'd be strangers who just met earlier that day. Sometimes it was one of our birthdays. Sometimes we were professors in town for a conference.
One particular night, on a trip to Portland, we hadn't decided on a story. During the weeks leading up to the trip, we'd been distracted. We'd been interested in trying out exhibitionism for a while but weren't sure the best way to explore it. This trip felt like the right opportunity. Even if we got caught, we didn't know anyone. Plus, Portland is known for its strip clubs, so getting a little frisky was inevitable.
Starting our night at a creole restaurant and oyster bar, we ordered a small smattering of oysters along with collard greens and a heaping plate of fried pork rinds. The greens came steaming like a soup, with a side of sausage about two inches thick that crisped and squirted when you bit into it. I ate three big pieces.
We ended our meal with oyster shooters: Tequila for me, and whiskey for Phil. We cheersed to the night to come.
"I'll meet you outside," I told Phil as he set his glass back on our table. "I need to go to the bathroom."
The bathroom was painted black and red, with a full length mirror framed in gold set against the back wall. I took a look at myself. I was wearing an all-white, mid-thigh-length dress with a deep v-neck. The fabric was thin and tight, hugging the curve of my hips. My cleavage peeked out from inside the neckline. I ran my hands over my hips, smoothing the dress. I hadn't worn any undergarments.
I found Phil waiting outside and gave him a peck on the cheek. He took my hand and led me down the street. The night was warm and crisp, just cooling off after the day's sun. I breathed in the fresh air, my pupils dilating from the glare of the street lamps.
A group of women in their 40s walked by. We passed a group of college students, coffee cups in hand. A fast walker wearing headphones didn't look at us.
For a minute or two, we were alone. I could see a cluster of nightlife a few blocks ahead. This section of the street was filled with closed bookstores and dark gift shops. Streetlights shone above us. Phil put his hand on my low back, gently guiding me closer to him. He leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"Are you ready?"
I looked at him, eyes wide. "For what?" I asked.
He trailed his fingers up my neckline. When he got to my collarbone, he hooked them inside my dress. He paused, looked at me, and then slowly pulled my dress aside. I shuddered when his hand grazed my nipple.
My breath caught in my chest. Phil nuzzled my neck, breathing softly into it. He kept both hands on me, one on my back and one drawing slow circles around my nipple.
"You can put your dress back once we get to the end of the block," he said.
I turned to putty as Phil rolled my nipple through his fingers. Thoughts of him pinching, flicking, squeezing, and licking me danced through my mind. The warmth of his hand cut through the cool night wind.
"Seeing your titties out like this makes me want to suckle them so bad," Phil breathed into my neck.
At the end of the block I covered myself. I could see our destination.
The bar we chose looked like it used to be a pub. It had dark wood decor and dim lighting but was redecorated with sleek furniture and antique lighting fixtures. It was busy, but not full. There was a short line at the bar. The tequila was running through me, and I already needed to use the restroom again. I went to find the bathroom while Phil made his way over to order drinks, whiskey neat for him and a gin and tonic for me.
On my way to the bathroom, I took a survey of our surroundings. The bar itself was in the back center of the room. The space in front of it had tables scattered with people. There were several filled booths to the right of the bar, well-lit from an overhead chandelier. The left side swooped out to a darker corner with what looked like mostly empty tables and booths. I made my way to the restroom, where I ran my lipstick over my pout one more time.
When I came out of the bathroom, Phil was at the front of the bar line. Right as I was about to sidle up next to him, Phil grabbed our drinks off the bar and turned around. We collided, and he spilled my gin and tonic all over me. I jumped back from the cold, looking down at myself. The front of my dress was completely wet and quickly becoming see-through. Cold from the ice in my drink, my nipples poked out from the thin fabric. My left tit was soaked to the point that I could see my areola. My right tit wasn't completely drenched, but I could see my nipple. If the bar wasn't dim, everyone in it would have been able to see my now mostly-naked body.
There was a guy to my left who noticed what happened, and he stared as I stood there with my arms out at my sides, exposing my naked breasts to him and anyone else looking. Phil grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at my dress, but it didn't really help anything. I thought about going to the bathroom to try to dry myself, but there wasn't a hand dryer, only paper towels. It seemed like the only option was to wait for it to dry.
"It's fine," I told Phil. "It'll dry. Let's just go sit down."
I guided Phil over to a dimly-lit table where I was hoping people wouldn't notice my now see-through dress. I knew we were planning some exhibitionism, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. The table was small, maybe a foot across, meant for intimacy. We sat down, and when I looked up I saw the guy who saw my tits by the bar still looking at me. I was facing him, but I was pretty sure this corner was too dark for him to actually see anything.
Phil leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, his hands inches from my wet chest. Before I could say anything about my new admirer, Phil reached up with one hand and casually tweaked my nipple. I couldn't help but moan at the surprise of his warm fingers touching my cold, erect nipple. The guy watching saw my mouth open and my head roll back.
Phil cupped my tit in his hand like he was trying to dry it, but then he bent down and put his mouth on me. "I told you seeing your titties hanging out in public made me want to suck them," he said.
He sucked my tit over my dress, making it even wetter. He ran his tongue in circles around and around my nipple, first one way and then the other. I absolutely love having my titties sucked, and I couldn't help but moan, starting to forget that we were in public. Phil had made me cum solely from nipple play before. He knew what he was doing.
I took a deep breath and fluttered my eyes around to see if that guy was still watching me. Phil was facing the wall, so if someone was going to keep watch it had to have been me. That guy was still watching. I saw him point me out to his friend just as Phil released my nipple from his mouth and stood up.
"Here, take my drink for now," he said. "I'm going to go get a towel to clean you up with." He gave my nipple one last tweak before winking at me and walking to the bar. I was left alone and aroused, with my titties still visible and soaked through, even more now from Phil's mouth.
I felt squirmy, so I stood up and turned toward the wall to shake myself out a little bit. When I turned back around, I saw the guy who was watching me was now much closer but with his back to me. I was surprised to find myself a little disappointed he wasn't ogling me anymore. He was pretty close to me, though, talking to his friend. I decided to let my disappointment go and turned back toward the wall, trying to keep my cool while thoughts of Phil's hands snaking under my dress ran through my mind. I pictured us sitting at the table and him setting his hand on my thigh, inching it closer to my slit with every sip of his drink until he reached my hot, wet hole.
Lost in my reverie, I backed up too far and bumped into something. I turned around to find it was the guy who had been watching me. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said.
He looked unsure of what to say, and I could tell he was trying not to stare at my chest. "It's...uh...no big..." he trailed off, unable to keep his eyes on mine.
I found myself enjoying the attention and decided to play a little bit. I put my arms behind my back and stuck out my chest, swaying my shoulders back and forth. "It's okay. I saw you staring at me earlier," I said. "You can look."
With that, the guy's and his friend's mouths both dropped to the floor. I don't think they were expecting permission. About 10 seconds passed without anyone saying anything. "Alright, I'm going to go back to my table now," I said, smiling sweetly. "I'm sorry again for bumping into you."
This remark seemed to pull the second man out of his daze. "Not a problem at all!" he said, a little too excitedly, and slapped his friend on the back.
But his friend wasn't ready. When he got hit his entire body lurched forward, and he spilled his full beer down my dress.
Now, the bottom half of my dress was wet, too. Both of my titties were fully visible through my soaked, white dress. I couldn't see my pussy yet, but the liquid was still seeping through the thin fabric. Soon, anyone looking would be able to see that I wasn't wearing any panties.
Phil came back with a towel and gin and tonic in hand and sized up the situation. He looked from me to the strangers and back to me again. "He spilled his drink on you?" he asked me, warily raising one eyebrow.
"I'm sorry," said the man, desperately trying to explain. "She let us look at her tits and then he hit me on the back and I wasn't ready and...it just happened."
Phil once again looked at me, at the stranger, then back to me again. Suddenly, his face changed from concern to intrigue. He took a step closer to me. "Well, it looks like you're all wet," he said, slowly running a finger down the entire right side of my body, from the top of the wetness on my right titty to the bottom of my right thigh.
My eyes went wide, realizing what he was doing. I gulped, staring at him expectantly. "I guess so," I shrugged coyly.
Phil set his drink down on our table. He took the towel and held it taut between both hands, then placed it on my chest and started gently moving it back and forth across my cold, erect nipples.
"Is this helping?" he asked.
"It depends on what you mean by 'helping,' " I breathed out, visibly aroused. Phil let go of the towel with one hand so he could trail a finger slowly down my body, chasing the tail of the wet beer clinging to my dress. When he got to the bottom of my dress, he stayed there, lingering, his other hand still rubbing the towel over my nipple.
"Well, I'll have to check," he said, placing two of his fingers softly on my inner thigh. I was breathless, waiting for his touch. He made eye contact with me as he reached under my dress and lightly trailed a finger over my lips. It was almost exactly the kind of touch I had been imagining earlier. I shuddered, and a drop of my wetness fell on his hand. He brought his wet fingers to his face to look at my juices. He rubbed two fingers together, relishing the sticky sweetness.
"It looks like I just made you more wet. Was it because I rubbed this towel on your titties or because you like these strangers watching you get aroused?" he asked, wiping his fingers on my wet dress.
At this point, I couldn't help it anymore. My pussy was throbbing. I was panting, waiting for Phil to really touch me. The eyes of the two men watching us went wide, waiting for me to answer Phil's question.
"It's both," I managed between gulps of air. "I love it when you play with my titties, but I also love it when strangers watch me be naughty."
"Oh, and you're being very naughty right now," said Phil. "Do you want these men to watch you cum in the back of this bar like the naughty slut you are?"
