Several years ago, my wife and I vacationed in Europe for two weeks. I knew that Europeans tend to be more casual about nudity and sex than Americans are, but I was still unprepared (as was my wife) when we decided to visit a spa (called "bad") in Germany. We took a tram up the side of a steep hill to the top and looked down over a beautiful view and a large pool with an even larger deck.
"Oh my God," my wife exclaimed as she saw that almost all of the women were lying topless on the deck or soaking that way in the pool.
"The men aren't shy either," I replied as we saw several fellows wearing tiny Speedo type suits that did little to hide their various packages.
"When in Rome, they say," I whispered to her and she punched my arm.
"No way," she countered, "we have our suits."
After paying the entry fee, we went to separate changing rooms and stowed our gear. Then, out onto the deck to find a couple of loungers and put our towels down. It was sunny and nice, so we took a dip in the pool and I enjoyed the scenery. As some of the men got out of the water, I noticed my wife glancing at their tiny wet Speedos and tanned bodies. I smiled to myself.
Bare breasts and barely-concealed dicks surrounded us, but my wife refused to remove her top. Even a rather mature and obese woman, with rolls of fat, slipped off the top of her one-piece and exposed her pendulous tits without a care in the world. My wife was just about the only woman at the spa wearing her top.
Later, I got up to find the restroom and buy a couple of sodas. There was a line at the refreshment counter, so I was gone for a while.
When I returned, I was happily surprised to see that my wife had unclasped her top and was lying on her tummy sunning. She thanked me for the soda and leaned up on her elbow to take a sip. I could see part of her pink nipple peeking out as she moved, but I doubt that anyone else noticed.
"Here, I'll put some lotion on your back," I volunteered, and she nodded slightly.
I worked the lotion into her back and shoulders and then down to the edge of her suit bottoms. My slick fingers slid under her waistband and I managed to expose a bit of white flesh. I left her exposed and moved to her legs. My lotioned hands moved over her calves and knees, and then I took my time rubbing it into her thighs. She moaned softly and I managed to spread her legs apart enough to reach up to her suit and press my hand against her soft mound.
I decided to take a chance. "Shall I do your front side now?" I asked softly.
"Mmm, I guess so," she murmured and then she began to turn over.
I fully expected her to hold her top to her as she turned, and I was pleasantly surprised when she left her top on the towel and flipped over, exposing her 38C breasts to me and to whomever happened to notice!
I stayed at her feet and slowly applied lotion to the front of her legs, sliding my hands up to again bump into her mound. She didn't object, so I became braver.
I moved beside her and put lotion on her shoulders and chest, sliding my hands along the outer edges of her lovely tits, then across her slightly rounded tummy. After several trips across her body, I added more lotion and let my hands cover her soft tits and erect pink nipples. She had her eyes closed and a wicked little smile told me she was now enjoying my efforts.
I worked my fingers under the front of her suit and again moved the suit down to expose a strip of very white skin. Using long strokes, I managed to move her suit down until it was just a fraction of an inch below the area sparsely covered by my wife's light brown bush. I'm sure she had no idea that she was that exposed, or that my cock was now exceedingly stiff.
I enjoyed a real vacation first, my wife lying topless with the edge of her bush exposed at a public spa, with quite a number of almost naked men strolling by her. I put the top back on the lotion and rolled over to lie on my belly, to hide my stiffness and give others ample time to ogle my attractive wife.
I dozed off for a few minutes. When I woke, my wife was sitting up in her lounge chair watching the people in the pool. She saw me stir and told me it was time to shower off the lotion and take another dip in the pool. We stood and, without picking up her top, strolled together across the deck to the community shower area to clean off the lotion. I loved watching her breasts sway as she walked, and I noticed that when we were clean, her bottoms were even lower than before and the back of her suit was bunched up in her crack. She didn't bother to adjust her suit.
We lolled in the pool for quite some time together, smiling and talking about how nice it felt to be together like that.
"I saw that they also have a steam room," I said, testing her willingness.
"Does it cost extra?" she asked, appearing curious.
"No, we've already paid our daily fee, so we can go try it if you like."
"What do we have to do, then?" she asked.
"Just go to the changing rooms and remove our suits is all. You just wear a towel in the steam room I think."
She thought for a moment. "Well, like you said, 'When in Rome...' we'll have towels, right?"
"Yeah, you'll have your towel," I assured her.
Finding that my wife was actually willing to try the spa's steam room wearing only a towel, I quickly began to move out of the pool. She followed along behind me, back to our loungers. I noticed that several men and one woman watched her step, dripping wet and topless, from the pool.
"We can just leave our things here on our chairs," I told her. "They'll have fresh towels for the steam bath."
My wife picked up her suit top and put it back on before walking the 100 feet or so back to the building that housed most of the facilities. We checked in with the steam room attendant and, sure enough, she smiled knowingly and gave each of us a large, fluffy towel. We adjourned to the changing rooms to stow our suits, and we met at the entrance to the steam room.
"You look great in that towel," I told my wife. "You did remove your suit didn't you?"
"Well, yes, I did and it feels a little weird," she replied with a little grin.
I opened the door and used my hand on the small of her back to guide my wife into the steamy room. There were two levels of tiled benches in the rather large space. We sat on the lower level near the door at first, just to get our bearings. Low voices speaking German told us that we were not alone.
The steam cleared somewhat and we saw four people perched across from us on the upper level, chatting together quietly. They fell silent for a few moments as they appraised the newcomers.