A flimsical little tale that I planned to put into the exhibitionist category, but decided to go for broke and risk the furnace of loving wives. It's short, no real ending and no hot sex, so if that's not your thing, then don't read it and get upset please.
To the others - enjoy.
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The party started out as so many of them had started before. There were ten or so couples, mostly childless so far, all of us professionals or self employed and most of us falling into the category of upwardly mobile.
I guess Sophie would be the youngest, and I think she'd be about twenty three or so, and Ted the oldest, having recently celebrated his thirty-third birthday. The rest of us sat there somewhere in the middle, just like me, Mike Lee, and my lovely wife Jenny Lee.
The party started to take a somewhat unusual turn when our hosts John and Cathy, began to tell us all about their very recent holiday in the Canary Islands, and how gorgeous the beaches were and how relaxed the local dress code had been.
Yes, you heard me right; the dress code!
"Most of the girls on the beach were topless," enthused John, grinning at the memory of it.
"And around the hotel pool," added Cathy.
How do you respond to that, I ask you?
"What about you Cathy?" asked one of the wives, breaking the ominous silence, anticipating what all the husbands were surely thinking.
"Well, when in Rome ..." she grinned sheepishly.
"But you were in Spain. The Canary Islands are part of Spain, not Italy," butted in Claude, but he was always a bit slow on the uptake.
"Take any photos?" Queried Jack, casually, an awful lot quicker on the uptake than Claude was, and I swear that every man there leant forward, eager to hear their reply.
"Took a few," came the throw away comment from John, trying to act disinterested.
Had them printed out," threw in Cathy, picking up a book like thing that had been sitting there ignored, ever since we'd got there. Ignored but suddenly the centre of attention, us guys cursing ourselves for not examining the damn thing earlier.
"Look, this is one we took on the first day," the lovely Cathy carried on, me, like the others edging myself forward to get a better view.
"This is one of the hotel."
"This is one of the view from our window."
"This is one of the dining room."
"This is one of a donkey we saw."
"This is one of ..."
It went on and on, all of us making appropriate if somewhat mundane comments, as Cathy started to bore the pants off us.
"Well that's about it," Cathy eventually announced, putting the book back down on the table.
"But you're only half way through," objected Claude, possibly the only one of us that had actually been enjoying the viewing.
"Shut up Claude," muttered Jack, ever the observant one, and always with an eye open for an opportunity.
"Well the rest of them are a bit personal," whispered Cathy, fluttering her eyelashes rather coyly. "I don't think I should really show them to you."
Translation, though I think even Claude caught on - 'They are pictures of me with my tits out on display, and they are sat there teasing you, daring you to have a look.'
"Cathy," called out her husband at that point. "Can you come over into the kitchen and give me a hand with this bloody machine.
"You'll have to excuse me," she giggled, visibly blushing, and made her way off into the other room.
What's a man to do?
Well you know and I know, but none of us guys seemed prepared to make the first move, especially with two or three of our wives stood there observing our discomfort.
"For God's sake one of you look at it," declared one of those wives, my wife Jenny as it happened to my surprise.
It was only a fraction of a percentage of a second, but Jack the dirty bugger beat me to it.
Blimey - Jesus - Wow - Crickey - Shit! A whole lot of comments as we flicked through the pages, the earlier ones of Cathy in her tiny bikini quickly passed by, as page by page the shots gradually got more daring.
Cathy topless, lying on her front.
Cathy, dear girl, topless again but reading a book this time and the swell of her bare breasts partly visible.
Cathy, still topless, lying on her side, her arm casually draped across her bare breasts, almost nearly hiding them.
Then it got better!
Cathy topless lying on her back this time, her bare boobs quite clearly out there on show.
Cathy kneeling in the sand, her tits hanging there rather splendidly.
Cathy stood up, a full length shot this time, rather blatantly sticking her chest out with pretty dramatic results.
Cathy, clearly at the pool this time, stood there in just her bikini bottoms, apparently chatting amiably away to three young guys that none of us knew, as if it was a perfectly normal, everyday situation.
There were more, the final one a close up shot of Cathy's naked sun-kissed breast, the smoothly dimpled texture of her skin clearly visible, the fine details of her erect nipples caught beautifully by the camera. It was Claude of all people who put into words what we were all no doubt thinking.
"Just look at the tits on her," he commented, and who were we to disagree with that sentiment.
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No, the evening didn't disintegrate into an uncontrolled orgy, and not one of the women discarded a single item of clothing. Us guys enjoyed our moment of unexpected pleasure ogling the photos of our pal's lovely, and somewhat under-dressed wife, and to my surprise, so did a couple of the wives who'd stayed with us.
One of them was my wife Jenny, and that folks, is where this little tale took an unexpected turn.
"Enjoyed that didn't you," Jenny challenged me when we eventually reached the sanctuary of our own home.
"Yes," I grunted back. "It was a good party."
"You know what I'm talking about Mike," she went on, smiling and not letting me off that easily.
"Oh that."
"Yes that."
"Nice photos."
"Nice tits."
"Can't argue with that."
