So I know what you are thinking....no way this happened, but I assure you, it did. Every word of this is true.
I'm Lisa. I'm a 36 year old mom of a great son, who is now nine and I have a very nice life out here in the anonymous suburbs. I also am divorced a long story that is neither erotic nor all that interesting. Suffice to say I have to legacies from it; my son and a breast augmentation that was not really my idea in origin or in magnitude. Because it matters for the story, and because it's the truth, I'll describe myself.
I have short blonde hair, and no I am not a natural blonde. I have a face that would be more cute than pretty. Think old school Sally Field not Angelina Jolie and you get the idea. I'm half German on my Mom's side and half Italian on my Dad's. My measurements, now, are 34DD 28 36 and I am pretty self conscious about the big fake boobs and downplay the look with wardrobe. I am extremely modest, religious-regular church goer- and am active with my son's school and in the community. Have a fairly public job, I won't discuss here, but you get the idea.
So I have had some wardrobe malfunctions that were against my will or at least unintentional and that were intensely disempowering and humiliating. Sadly though, I found that experiencing them has really been intensely erotic. It's the...embarrassment that gets me; the helplessness of being exposed and the object of intrusive stares, visually violated and publicly humiliated. Odd maybe, but I am being honest. I don't "like" having clothing come off or being exposed, but the embarrassment arouses me like mad.
So... a couple of years ago I was taking a family vacation to central Florida to a water park. As luck would have it the airline lost my luggage, which was inconvenient. In part because I had to go get a whole new swimsuit and I'm modest and particular so it was going to be expensive and a hassle. So I went to the hotel's gift center (it was a big resort with a moderately sophisticated mini-mall in the place). I walked in and despite hunting for a good thirty minutes could find nothing that would suit me. In fact all they had were bikinis.
I am generally a one-piece gal, maybe a full back, full coverage tankini or "momkini" as they are called, but never ad I mean never a bikini. I walked up to the girl at the counter and said, "uhhhhh hey where are the more conservative swimsuits?"
She had her earbuds in and was completely apathetic.
"We are almost out," she said. "Last week we had a big crowd and we don't get any new stuff for like another month. That's all we have."
I was not happy, but I couldn't not go to the waterpark and so, despite the incredible stomach churning discomfort walked back and grabbed a couple of suits. The clerk opened the dressing rooms at the back and I walked in to try on what looked like a series of no win options.
They weren't just regular bikinis. They were all side tie and triangle tops, which if you know, provide NO support and with my body... well let me just say, it was more skin than I had ever showed in public
I stripped down, in the small room with the full length mirror and picked up the first suit. The crotch had that plastic bioliner for hygienic reasons. I had not worn a "tie on" before so it was an ordeal and a learning experience at the same time as I got it on. When I finally had, I looked in the mirror. I almost screamed!
My big breasts hung in the top stressing the strings. If I moved the resulting motion was so obvious that I blushed even there alone. It was jiggle city and any sideward motion was an obscene sway. Then I looked down. The bottoms were low rise and though my trimmed "bush", was covered, my hip bones were apparent and my curvy hips showed a slight indentation of the string ties. I tuned sideways. I looked barely contained to my eye, though admittedly compared with what some younger women I have worn it was still pretty decent. The backside coverage was a "full" but sure didn't feel like it to me.
I thought about having to tell my child we would not get to go to the park and realized I had no choice. I finally chose a blue one with little yellow daisies on it and dressed again before walking up to the counter.
The girl at the counter looked at it and then at me appraisingly.
"You need a size smaller," she said.
"I don't think so!" I replied.
She shrugged. "People try and get them bigger, but you want it snug," she added.
I handed her my credit card.
"This will be fine," I said.
I got back to the room and changed.
Before I came out of the bathroom, I slipped on a VERY long t shirt that hid me completely, and grabbed towels, sunscreen and sunglasses. My son was chomping at the bit to get to the park and as we walked, though I was covered, I could feel the complete lack of support under the shirt. Every step was a exaggerated bounce of my big boobs, and the bottoms kept trying to creep into the crack between my buns. It was a full back alright, but it seemed to want to be some sort of thong.
We got to the park and found that the pace was packed. There was every imaginable water ride and activity. Sprinkler, a squishy rocking pad that erupted in a spray every time it tilted, a water coaster, and a series of slides, including a death drop waterslide- that sent the "victim" down a hundred foot plummet to a churning whirlpool at the bottom. There was also a wave pool, and a surf simulator. At the gate we were informed by another seemingly distracted teen authority in a "lifeguard" swimsuit that over shirts could be worn in, but were not allowed on any ride. To add injury to insult, the entry fee had additional calculations for storage of your belongings, open express passage to the rides in shorter lines and the like. I handed over my credit card again.
The dilemma was coming soon. I realized I could not just leave my ID, purse and belongings out so I paid for a storage locker and remembering her words about, over shirts on the rides, took a huge breath and.....pulled it off, stuffing it in a locker.
I felt naked, though I knew that it was just my ingrained modesty. Still, as I walked toward the rides, I felt every eye on me and was already a little redfaced as I attempted to minimize the jarring of my natural gate. I saw immediately several fathers and some moms casting interested and judgmental looks respectively.
"So what do you want to do first?" I asked.
"Death drop!" he said.
I could have predicted that. I am not a daredevil, but that thing looked horrifying to me, and we had to climb a stairwell that looked like two flights. We had paid for the express pass so we would have less of a delay, but still...
"Why don't we try the wave pool," I offered.
"Oh come on, Death Drop!"
I simply nodded.
We made the climb, though I may have been imagining, I felt like every male eye was on me. At the top I looked out. It was really high. My son was beside himself.
"Mom, you can see so far!" he yelled above the blaring rock music that was playing out of speakers right next to us.
He was right. The flat plain of central Florida spread out like a vast tropical horizon. It was an impressive view until I made the mistake of looking down.
The slide looked like it was almost vertical and a very thin sheen of rapid water coursed down it length. I gasped.
"No way!" I said.
But my son was already seat in his high edged lane and with a laugh was...gone.
I saw him rocketing down and then he disappeared in the foam at the bottom. He popped up laughing a waving. An attendant ushered him out of the water to the return line and started climbing, oblivious that I was still even there.
"Okay Ma'am," drawled a very Florida accent.
A young woman stood indicating that I sit down and prepare for my one descent. I hesitated.
"Ma'am..." she said almost irritated.
I say and look up.
"Okay, now, cross your arms over your chest and do not try to sit yup or do anything until you come to a stop. You'll go under and then the surge will bring you up and the edge, but remember to hold your breath."
"This looks really unsafe," I started she had leaned down close to my head to instruct me, stepped closer to give me a starting push.
She didn't intend to do it, but one edge of her sandal was on the end of a stray string on my bottoms. I realized it within a second after I took off. The slight tension released along with the security of my modesty. I might have tried to do something, but the intense speed and acceleration had me terrified. I kept immobile as I plunged for what seemed a long time. Then I hit the whirlpool.
I forgot what she said as I hit the icy froth and tumbled under the vortex, I took a breath getting a mouthful of water and as I rolled my head spun. A push of the surge and I was knocked upward out of the whirlpool. That's when things got bad.
I was standing, blind, soaked, coughing and sputtering, completely disoriented. I rubbed my eyes and looked over at the smiling attendant. Beyond him a mob of onlookers was clapping and hooting. At first I did not get it. I thought they were just a mildly sadistic gallery who enjoyed the sight of the pummeled victims of the drop. Then I realized.
My top was completely sideways. My big breasts hung out completely exposed. Now I'll be honest. They are pretty, but the augmentation was years ago and they are heavy. Without a good bra, they "ride" at the base of my ribcage. The icy water had my thick nipples standing out like bullets. I immediately, hysterically crossed my arms and attempted to "holster" my breasts. Then things got worse.
A woman's voice said loudly," Well now hon, I guess we all know your dark secret!"
I looked down. My bottoms were completely gone. I was standing there, legs widened for stability and balance, completely exposed. I mentioned that I am not a "natural" blonde and every one of those people got a good look at the evidence of that. I saw some iphones held up for posterity and panicked.
Not thinking I bent over searching the recover pool, hunting for my bikini bottom. Then I heard the words that will haunt me forever.
"This must be an aquarium, because there's a starfish!"
I didn't get it at first, and then it dawned on me as I heard another female mocking voice.
"And a clam."
I spotted the untied bottoms in the shallows and grabbed them, but not before the mocking had gone full tilt.
"Its smooth enough to be a cherrystone clam."
"No," said the woman again. "I think it's a GIANT one."
I finally managed to get the bottoms tied and retreated from the humiliating scene, but to my great shame and admission here, I found myself intensely aroused by the helpless exposure. The rest of the trip if someone looked at me and smiled I went red. I also heard a few whispers of "there's the star...fish" and "clam girl" and each time though humiliated, I was intensely aroused by the shame.
I have had some additional situations like this and would be happy to tell if this is interesting to anyone. For those that want to chat about similar experiences or witnessing the same, feel free and look me up in chat.