My heart raced and I did a double take at one of the images I was perusing on a website. My job required a fair amount of travel, and it wasn't uncommon for me to relax in my hotel room late at night and peruse some websites feasting on various images of attractive members of the opposite sex. I wasn't a big fan of the real hardcore stuff but rather preferred what my generation referred to as T & A. For me an attractive woman, preferably a girl next door type, in various sexy outfits or lingerie or stripping down in a teasing fashion was a pleasant way to relax before turning in.
I grabbed my reading glasses and looked closer at the image. I clicked on it to enlarge it. I studied the picture in detail and three others in the set. The woman was an attractive middle-aged woman, long brown hair, a very nice figure, wearing very sexy outfits and a different top in each photo. She was in a backyard patio deck area and based on the shadows and light levels it was near sunset. Interestingly, the woman's face was mostly blurred out in the photos, but she appeared to be smiling. The resolution wasn't very high suggesting they had been taken with a telephoto lens at some distance. But the pictures were clear enough to show that the woman's tops were soaked and shear and clingy enough to reveal aroused nipples, brown areola, and shapely full breasts. One image showed a white top being sprayed with a stream of water.
The woman was my wife.
It took me a few moments for the reality to soak in as the events depicted had occurred about eight years earlier. But I hadn't taken the pictures or submitted them to a website. Their appearance had me puzzled and concerned.
I noticed all four photos had been submitted by someone with the screen name of Johnnyboy. The pictures had been on the site about two years. They were tightly cropped and showed no background. Each photo had been viewed thousands of times and they all had hundreds of "Likes". There were also hundreds of comments - the vast majority begging for more pictures, several asking who the MILF was and numerous expressing their desires to perform various acts with the woman in the pictures.
I opened my laptop and logged onto the site so that I could enlarge the pictures on the bigger screen. I was looking for any evidence that might explain by whom and how the photos were taken. They appeared to have been taken from our neighbors' house to the north of us. I couldn't imagine the older widow living there being party to voyeuristic pictures when I remembered that she had only lived there six years and had been preceded by a woman and her teenage son, Johnny. It was starting to make sense that the teenage neighbor boy, seemingly equipped with a telephoto lens camera had been spying on my wife and I that night. His second-floor bedroom window might have been a near perfect vantage point.
As I recalled he now lived halfway across the country and was most probably in his early 20s when he posted the photos. His discretion in cropping the photos and blurring Monica's face had me somewhat perplexed until I recalled how helpful Monica had been to him and his mother when his father passed. Monica had comforted them both and tutored him through junior high math as he struggled with adjusting to the loss of his father. I could imagine him not wanting to do anything to hurt Monica. But I also wondered how many other pictures he had, if he had any of Monica flashing her breasts or others that were more revealing than those he posted.
I recalled his mother's name and searched social media. It took about 45 minutes of sorting but I finally found her, now a resident of Ohio. Her son who was now a handsome young man was a junior at Ohio State studying accounting - I guess he learned his math. I found his social media page and sent a friend request. I closed my laptop for the night and laid back reflecting on that night some eight years earlier.
I smiled as I recalled the evening.
It was a Saturday night in August. The kids were at summer camp and Monica, my wife and I had 10 days alone. On Friday night we'd been out to dinner with a group of two other couples and as the evening progressed and the drinks flowed one of the other wives admitted to having been in a wet T shirt contest years earlier when she was in college. My wife quickly noted that she was both too bashful and too flat chested to participate in those events while at college twenty years earlier. The rest of the evening was spent sharing various outrageous stories about college days - most often recounting events that had been observed not necessarily participated in.
On our way home that evening I mentioned to Monica that her figure was certainly competitive for wet T shirt contest now. She thanked me for the compliment and acknowledged that two kids and 20 pounds had left her with a considerably shapelier figure than she had during her college days. She had transitioned from something akin to the typical figure of a ballet dancer to one that might very accurately be described as a MILF. She had gone from a 34A to a 36C bust and added three inches to her hips resulting in a 36-26-36 figure at age 42.
That Saturday morning, I mentioned to Monica that I was planning to grill steaks by the hot tub for dinner that evening and that after dinner I wanted her to participate in a wet T shirt contest. She looked at me as if I were nuts and presumed I was kidding. I reiterated, "No, I'm serious and you're going to win the contest as well."
We went about our Saturday routine the rest of the day and not much was said except for me mentioning on a couple of occasions how I was excited about the wet T shirt contest. Monica reacted by laughing about my joking. I only had a few things to do to prep for the evening's festivities. I had to make a pitcher of strong, inhibition lowering margaritas and discreetly dig through Monica's lingerie drawer and closet in search of an assortment of outfits for Monica to wear in the Wet T shirt contest I had planned.
After steak, salad, and I plying Monica with a second large Margarita I told her it was time for the wet T shirt contest. I continued, "You're guaranteed to be winner since you're the only contestant and I am the only judge, but you have to model four different outfits I've picked out for you. I need to strut your stuff and pose while I wet you down. We will see which top works best then you can use that in a real competition someday."
Monica giggled and accused me of being crazy and perverted. I responded, "I plead guilty, now go get your cute ass to the bedroom and put on one of the outfits I have laid out for you."
Monica quickly drained her Margarita and said, "You've got to be kidding, I don't believe you."
Then she stood and walked to the house to check the bedroom. If I was a betting man, I would have bet about ten to one odds that Monica would not follow through when she saw what I had laid out for her. The hot tub was turned on and warmed up and the hose and a pile of towels was handy in case she returned. When she didn't immediately return to protest, I knew she was either quite upset or perhaps, fingers crossed, actually putting on one of the outfits.
