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.
It seemed like forever but was probably only 10 minutes. Monica returns wearing a silky light pink top and matching tap pants. I was impressed that she had put on a pair of heels as well. Her only response was, "If you expect me to go through with this, I need another drink."
As I poured another drink, I told her she looked great and could choose between hose or hot tub for this outfit. I turned on the outdoor speaker system with some dance music that I had previously selected and pretended to be the master of ceremonies announcing, "Tonight's first contestant is Monica sporting a pink camisole and tap pant nightie set. She's an accountant and mother who's making up for experiences she missed in college. Welcome Monica to her first ever wet T shirt contest."
As I clapped Monica was giggling but starting to move to the music and made her way toward the hot tub. She had that "I can't believe I'm actually doing this." look on her face as she swayed and swirled moving toward the hot tub. She stepped out of her heels and stepped into the hot tub, the first step putting her in knee deep water. "You better appreciate this, and don't you dare laugh." she threatened as she stepped to the bottom of the hot tub soaking her tap pants and standing in now waist deep water. She swayed back and forth in the water dipping slightly deeper several times allowing the water to soak more of the camisole leaving the fabric clinging to her midriff and turning more shear. As the water line reached the bottom of her breasts, she used her hands to splash small amounts of water on her cleavage. The effective tease had me impressed and aroused. The routine continued for about 5 more minutes as she completely dunked her top several times, shook her chest and climbed from the hot tub to show off her clinging sheer outfit.
I clapped my applause and using my master of ceremonies voice congratulated Monica on her performance noting that she set a high bar for the remaining contestants. Monica patted herself with a towel, took another gulp of her drink, grabbed her high heels and headed toward the house.
About 10 minutes later Monica reappeared. This time she was wearing a set of lingerie I had laid out for her. White panties with a satin front and shear back, a white corset from the back of her closet. It was the corset she had worn with her wedding dress. The front panels were shear between the boning and the bra was a three-quarter cup lacy under wire configuration. Even though I had removed the pushup pads, Monica's now much larger bust spilled over the tops of the cups in an enticing manner. Garter straps hung from the bottom of the corset and were attached to a pair of white silky stockings. The black heels completed the outfit.
I motioned Monica to move toward the railing on the deck and reached for the hose. I adjusted the water to a substantial but not overpowering flow. As Monica sipped her drink, she noted the corset hadn't seen the light of day since our wedding night. She smiled as she noted it still fit though she could no longer use the tightest hooks when she fastened it and the cup size was too small to wear for any length of time.
She swirled around and made some dance steps wiggling her hips and shaking her bust. While it was clear she was an amateur she seemed to be enjoying herself. Shifting to my master of ceremonies role, "Miss Trousseau is our second contestant this evening and she has been kind enough to share with us an outfit that had previously been restricted to a single viewer."
I approached with the hose stream first splashing her stockings and shoes then moving up to wet her panties with the cool water. I instructed her to turn around and soaked the back, now shear panties. She squealed as the cool water soaked her. The panels covering her midriff next yielded to the hose. Finally, the stream of water cascaded over her cleavage and soaked her lacy bra cups. Miss Trousseau blushed as her aroused nipples made themselves very visible through the thin bra cups. She smiled and shimmied, even rubbed her hands over her breasts then leaned forward to showcase her breasts bulging from the soaked cups for the audience of one to enjoy.
