In July of last year, while driving home from a family vacation through rural Georgia, we decided on a whim to that it would be "retro" to visit a local county fair that we had seen advertised on billboards along the way. We all laughed at the "characters" we'd surely encounter in the hick town that the fair was located in. But this little stopover turned out to be much, much more than that. It became an encounter that changed our lives in ways I could never have conceived.
It all started innocently enough. My son Jeremy had noticed some signs along the highway advertising mud wrestling and a monster truck event and both he and his twin sister, Amber, begged to us to stop and see what it was all about. Amber, like me, certainly had no interest in either event, but she was just vain enough to be bored driving around with no one looking at her. She is a little full of herself, admittedly, but I guess I'm somewhat to blame since I'm constantly telling her how stunning she looks.
We'd stopped really on a whim, I guess, but once Jeremy saw the packed crowd of local high school and college kids he was definitely tuned in. At eighteen, he thought of himself as a stud, a babe magnet, and I have to say that I agreed with him. Tall and nicely built, he had what some might consider an over-confident, even arrogant air about him, but as I've always said, if you've got it why hide it. The crowd of unsophisticated rubes at this ridiculous county fair would be no match for him!
Amber, his sister, has never ever shied away from competition of that sort either, and there was certainly no reason she ever should. Believe me, it's not likely she'd ever lose a sex-appeal contest, and like I said, I've told her so. She is already simply stunning. Like her mother, she blossomed early and at eighteen was already literally spilling out of her D cup and well on her way to the double D cup I wear. Her tiny waist and the kind of long, slender legs only a teenager possesses coupled with what can only be called a bosom that would be spectacular even on a full-grown woman, make heads turn everywhere she goes. She is truly breathtaking. And she knows it. She is also a total flirt. Again, my fault I suppose.
Amber is a few inches taller than I am, but neither one of us is particularly tall, but that's our only shortcoming, believe me. We both have luxurious blonde hair and breathtaking figures, and no one has ever complained about the rest of the package either. If I seem a little conceited, well, it's for good reason. We are certainly not an average-looking family. I've taught Amber that we are physically blessed and that men and some women get great pleasure out of looking at people like us, so she should never be shy or ashamed about showing her assets to the world.
My husband, Bill, is perhaps the least like us. He's a great guy who works extremely hard and has managed to make more money than either of us could have ever imagined while growing up together poor in the Mississippi Delta. We're certainly not poor any longer, and I finally have the life and belongings that I was meant for. God doesn't make someone like me and leave her poor and unseen, that's what I've always thought! But Bill doesn't really seem to understand that. He's constantly criticizing me for letting Amber dress so "provocatively," as he puts it. He even suggests that my own dress goes a bit too far at times. He was in that mood today.
"Do you see the looks your daughter is getting," he said to me, as Amber sauntered on ahead, flipping her hair off of her face while proudly showing her charms to the local rubes, who surely had never seen a body or face that stunning in rural Georgia.
"She's beautiful. Why wouldn't they look," I replied.
"They're ogling her, Candice," Bill stated shortly. "Can't you a least get her to pull her top up a little? And you might do that, too," he said, looking at what I admit was my perhaps risque display of flesh.
"She's an attractive young girl, Bill, and men enjoy looking at her. There's nothing I can do about that. Just let her have fun. And let me have fun, too," I sniffed. "You don't always have to be such a prude. The guys who are looking are just enjoying the sight of two attractive, sexy women. It's very natural," I added with a huff, and refused to pull my top up.
"She's not a woman! She's eighteen, for Christ's sake," he snorted. "And she shouldn't be a grown man's wet dream!"
"God, Bill, you are so middle class!" was all I could think to say.
Amber did look exceptionally sexy that afternoon, it was true. We were both wearing blue, midriff baring tube tops, and very tight, very short white miniskirts. Amber was wearing her top dangerously low, and I'll admit the way I was wearing mine wasn't much different. We had naturally attracted a nice little crowd of male admirers. It was sexy, sure, and it was also fun.
I loved the way Amber performed in front of her "fans," even if Bill didn't, and I enjoyed my own growing group of gawkers as well. We both know how to do this stuff, and I know a lot of guys were just drooling over both of us. And why not! We're both teases, I guess, but I see nothing wrong with that. It gives guys who could never ever get girls like us something to dream about, right? It's sort of charity.
"You see those two older guys there?" Bill said, pointing to two ugly rednecks who appeared to be in their mid thirties, roughly our own age. "They've been following Amber almost since we got here," he scowled.
I had noticed them, and I had noticed them blatantly checking me out as well. They were one of the reasons I wasn't pulling my top up. Why not tease them a little, I thought. "Oh, they're harmless," I said, laughing. "I doubt they've ever seen anything as hot as our daughter out here in the sticks."
Or as hot as you," he replied, but maybe not in a very complimentary way. "Pull your top up, for Christ's sake."
I just ignored him. It had really, really irked me that he hadn't noticed those two guys checking me out as well as Amber. I mean did he really think Amber was the only one with a hot body? I can still attract a crowd, too, and I was determined to prove it! I certainly was not going to pull my top up now! In fact, I slyly nudged it down a little more.
Amber and I continued our competitive flirting, but after an hour or so, we both had grown bored parading around the fairgrounds for the locals to stare at, so we told Bill we were ready to leave, and despite Jeremy's need to "score," we all walked off toward the parking lot to resume our trip home. I could see that Bill was very thankful to be leaving.
Bill was repacking some things in the trunk and I was looking through a suitcase to find a tee shirt to wear in the air conditioned car, which Bill always keeps too cold. Amber and I had just slipped into the tee shirts and slithered out of our tube tops, when I heard someone behind us demand that I show them my "tits."
Astonished at the outrageous remark, I turned around to see the two men Bill had pointed out to me an hour earlier. They were obviously more than a little drunk and even more obviously aroused.
"What did you say?!" I said incredulously.
"I said why don't you and that sweet little thing over yonder shows us your tits," he slurred.
The other one just grinned.
"Don't talk to them," Bill said nervously. "Just get in the car."
"Now don't ya'll go all nasty on us. We just tryin' to be friendly," the drunk said, spitting a spray of brown liquid through the yellow gap in his teeth. "Your woman and that sweet little thing over there got a really nice rack on 'em, and we just think it would be right friendly of y'all to give us a little peek," he said to Bill while leering openly at me.
"And maybe just a little feel of that young one's pussy, too," said the other, the bigger of the two, who had assumed a very menacing pose.
"Get in the car!" Bill said again.
"You are disgusting," I said haughtily. "Neither I nor my daughter would ever have anything to do with trash like you two. God, just the idea of it makes me sick!"
"Get in the goddamn car," Bill said again abruptly.
I did as he asked, but not without first giving those two horrid low-class jerks a quick little glimpse of the "tits" they would never have. As we drove off, I noticed one of them on his cell phone as I flipped them my middle finger out the window.
"I should have kicked their asses," Jeremy said as we drove away, "And I would have if Dad hadn't driven off so quickly.
"I know you would have, Honey," I said. "It's really lucky for them that we left," I added, patting his knee.
"They were just like so disgusting," Amber snorted. Still, I noticed her nipples had hardened beneath her flimsy tee shirt. I felt a strange adrenalin rush as well. "They thought they could ever have anything like us?" Amber concluded, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "As if!"
"We wouldn't have had any of this trouble if you two would keep yourself covered," Bill said a bit testily. We let his remark pass. It was hardly our fault. We were just being what we are. They were simply trash who thought they could intimidate us.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, our nerves had calmed down some and life was returning to normal. We were chatting about where we should stop for dinner when Bill noticed a squad car with its lights on coming up behind us.
"Oh, shit," Bill exclaimed, slowing down to let the police car pass us, "I think he wants us to stop."
"Well, wouldn't that just be the perfect ending to the day," I said.
Hoping that the police car was going somewhere else, Bill pulled over only to see the squad car pull in directly behind us. A few minutes later, a very large man with a belly the size of a beer keg came ambling up to the car.
"Howdy folks," he smiled. "I'm Sheriff Mallory. Mind if I have a look at your driver's license and registration?"
"Sure," Bill replied, reaching for his wallet. "What are we being stopped for?" he added in a somewhat peevish tone.
"Oh, it's probably nothing," the sheriff said, smiling first at me then at Amber in the backseat. Her boobs looked even larger unrestrained beneath the clingy tee. His smile and stare seemed to linger a long time on her chest. "Got a call from a couple a good ol' boys down the county fair, said some folks from out of town were rude to them and then tried to run 'em over with their car. Got a license number. Know anything about that?"
"What?!" Bill said in astonishment. "Did they tell you what they said to us?"
"Well, no they didn't."
