We Couldn't Possibly Could We?

"We can't do that, even for us it's a bit much."

"Why not? It'll be fun and it'll raise money and raise awareness."

I looked at Julie, a 'I know you'll do it' smile creeping across her face.

"And are you sure we won't be arrested?"

"The local by-laws say not, the most they'll do is tell us to cover up."

We've always been uninhibited, body and sex positive people and as we entered our fifties we were getting bolder, pushing our boundaries and living life to the max. We were no models, just a reasonably fit couple, happy in our own skin.

"And the charity are happy with this?"

"John the shop manager is, he thinks we should broadcast it online as well, raise more money." She smiled cheekily, "I think he fancies me." I raised an eyebrow.

"It's ok, Beth will be dressing you" Umm Beth, Beth could justify 750 words on her own.

Julie was a volunteer with a local homeless charity, helping in the charity shop and soup kitchen. A fund raising push was coming up and Julie wanted us to pose as mannequins in the window, our outfits being changed every 30 minutes or every time a member of the public in the street or online made a large donation.

Julie arranged a dress rehearsal, 'to make sure everything fits.' Myself, Julie, John and Beth met in the shop one evening.

They'd chosen six outfits that might work. "A glass of wine and then we'll get to it." An excited Julie said.

She began to undress, urging me to join her, I stopped at my underpants. "You won't be wearing them on the day." Beth said, sipping her wine, challenging me with her eyes. I looked at Julie for help, she just smiled and removed her bra and panties.

Social media is great, we lived in a small city but had 30 people outside the shop and over 100 paying to watch online. We had volunteers with buckets and others manning the computers. We dressed smartly to begin, shirt, tie and slacks for me, blouse, skirt and stockings for Julie. Neither of us wearing underwear, Julie's erect nipples clearly visible through her blouse, she was enjoying this.

The crowd in the street were lovely, laughing and waving, giving thumbs up, trying to distract us from our mannequin stares.

A shout from behind us "100 online for a costume change." My heart skipped a beat. Beth and John came through the curtain, waving to the crowd. I started to kick a shoe off "You're a mannequin, remember." Beth breathed heavily into my ear, my heart skipped again.

She started confidently, removing my tie and began on my shirt. John seemed more nervous, fumbling with Julie's buttons. "Remove my skirt first." Julie said, ventriloquist style. Beth smiled over at Julie, 'Tart' she mouthed.

My shirt was off and Beth's hands ran all over me on the way to my shoes. I didn't want to react, 'think of rotten fruit, think of rotten fruit'

John finally managed the skirt but froze, "Drop it." Julie whispered. "Now move out the way."

Her blouse was short, reaching just below her hip bones, the crowd wolf whistling and clapping at the sight of her stocking tops and the glimpse of her pussy. "Now hold me like we're dancing, turn me around." The ventriloquist again.

It must have been late night dancing, he grabbed her ass with both hands, pulling her in tight as he turned her around. "Now remove my heels and stockings." Julie said, more breathless than before.

The tail of her shirt was longer, half her ass cheeks visible, only adding to the tease as John knelt down, a smile on his face.

Beth had been distracted but turned her attentions back to my belt, her hand, hidden by her body, rubbing my dick through the trousers. No thoughts of rotten fruit were stopping this. "ooh big boy." She cooed as she felt the effect she was having.

She squatted down, letting the trousers fall, smiling as my dick brushed the tip of her nose.

Julie was peeking, a sly smile on her face. "Beth can you help John with the stockings, he doesn't seem able to manage them, not without rubbing my cunt at the same time anyway."

Beth moved to help Julie, stopping to tie my tie around my dick first and then lifting Julie's shirt.

The poor audience, my dick or Julie's gorgeous ass, decisions, decisions.