Lilibeth's Wild Side Ch. 02

All characters in this story are age 18 or older.

—

"Lilibeth? This is your mother."

"I know it's you, Mom. You're the only one who calls me Lilibeth."

"It's such a pretty name. Why don't you ask Marty to use it more often."

"What's up, Mom? You usually don't call me in the morning."

"I wanted to see if you and Marty were interested in a vacation. It's probably much too short notice, but, my good friend Nora, you know her, she has to have some kind of medical treatment. It's not serious, but she and Walter won't be able to use their timeshare cottage this summer, in Panama City, Florida, of all places. In the summer. Can you imagine? I'm sure it's all they could afford, the nicer seasons are probably a lot more expensive. And I don't think it's too nice of a place, she's told me how the area they're in has gone downhill over the years. She always says there's a horrible bar right next door."

Beth chuckled. "Mom, that's a hell of a sales pitch. I'm pretty sure you shouldn't go into the timeshare business. So, if we decide to go to this awful place, in this awful area, at this awful time of year, what's it going to cost us?"

"Oh, nothing, dear. That's the nice part. Did I really make it sound that bad? Nora even has plane tickets they want to give you."

"You're kidding! Seriously? Oh, well, we'd have to pay them at least for those."

"I'd like to pay for it. I've always wanted to take you and Marty on a nice vacation, but now, I just can't get around like I used to. I'll take care of things with Nora, pay her for the tickets at least. But, can you go? Can you two get away on such short notice?"

"I don't know Mom, I'll check it out. Sounds like fun. We've never been to that part of Florida."

"Just keep your expectations reasonable, like I said. It's not a gold plated hotel. She calls it a cottage, but I think it's just a small house that's sort of old now. I don't think the landlord keeps it up very well. She says that darn bar moving in next door ruined it, but...what are you going to do about something like that? She says don't ever go there anytime around spring break. It's just horrible."

Beth chuckled again. "We need to send you to sales school, Mom. You're doing it all wrong."

"Well I'm sorry, Lilibeth, but you don't want to be surprised, do you? I know you like things nice."

"Mom, I've got a seedy side too, you know. Maybe I'll fit right in down there. I'll drink in that bar, maybe I'll wear a bikini top in there, so the local men can ogle me. Oh, and I'll wear super short cut-off jean shorts. Do you remember that TV show? The Dukes of Hazard? Remember those little shorts that pretty southern girl wore? I'll wear those."

"Well, you've got the behind for it. You can thank your grandmother, or maybe her grandmother, for that."

Knowing her mother's memory was stuck in the past when it came to her current, middle-aged body, Beth smiled. "What about our much-too-big boobs, Mom? Grandpa, Dad and Marty all fell for 'em."

"They certainly did, and I wouldn't have it any other way. What do you think of all this plastic surgery, all these implants?"

"Mom, that's just the way it is now. I think most girls look best without all that, but, yeah, it's just the way it is. I'm glad I got mine the old fashioned natural way.

"Yes, me too. Don't get old though, dear. It's not pretty when I take my bra off these days."

"Mom you should get some pretty ones. I just bought some really pretty sexy bras. Panties too, and some other lingerie. Marty's really happy lately."

"That's so nice, Lilibeth. But no, I'll leave that kind of fun to you young folks. Enjoy it while you can."

"Yeah, Mom, I am. I never knew middle-age could be so much fun."

—

Right after Marty told her that the timing for the trip to Florida was good, Beth started an internet shopping search for some 'daisy dukes', an ultra-short style of cute cut-off jean shorts that would show every inch of her thighs. In Beth's mind's-eye, daisy dukes bedazzle the behinds of all the women in Florida, or at least the women who are alive enough to still feel sexy.

These days such shorts are made out of stretchy denim, and fit skin tight, almost like panties. Always with fringe at the bottom, and sometimes even at the top, they're often faded and distressed, sometimes embroidered, and sometimes in drab green and brown camouflage prints. Beth likes those. She ordered a 'camo' pair with a low but traditional waist, and another pair with softly distressed fringe not only at the cut off legs but at the waist too. These are a faded bluejean color, the waist low, the cut of the leg opening on the behind of them showing off as much cheek as some sexy panties do. The part that Beth loves, though, is the sides, because there are no sides at all. Just a wide swath of hip flesh showing through the black laces that hold the front section to the back section, an uber-sexy look that instantly tells the world you're not wearing underwear, or maybe just the tiniest little thong.

Beth shopped for other sexy clothes, and bought some, fun bikinis and sexy cover-ups for the beach, and some tight dresses for a dinner or two. She knew the hottest bikinis might be right there in Florida, so she planned to go on a quick shopping spree as soon as she got there.

Knowing northwest Florida is probably quite 'red' when it comes to politics, she wanted an American flag bikini, and an American flag t-shirt, just in case she was lucky enough to find a wet t-shirt contest to enter. Entering a sexy contest was, after all, one of the things she very much hoped to do on this vacation.

-

After the shopping and the preparations were done, it was just a week later when Beth and Marty boarded an American Airlines plane bound for the Florida Panhandle. After a smooth, safe landing, and a sixty mile drive in a rented car, they arrived at the timeshare cottage on the beach, not far from Panama City.

Yes, the little house was rundown, and not exactly a looker from the street, but the big wide view of the Gulf of Mexico was breathtaking. Built to take advantage of it, the house had an expansive deck right off the living room, and a charming balcony upstairs, off the bedroom. Standing there, taking in the view from that second floor perch, Marty and Beth watched some folks playing volleyball out behind the bar next door, the bar's busy 'backyard' opening onto the beach like it owned the whole thing.

"God, it's insanely hot and humid here, but, I think I like this," said Beth. Looking out through her new sunglasses, she sized up the ragtag assortment of locals and redneck-ish, biker-ish tourists hanging out and drinking down there, so close she could hear the music and the din of their conversations. "We can get pickled, and stumble home."

Marty smiled. "Pickled. I used to love it when your father said that."

"Want to check it out after we unpack?" asked Beth. "Looks like they serve food. Maybe we can grab a burger or something. It's kind of late to be finding a real restaurant."

"Sounds good to me. A burger and half-a-dozen cold beers will taste good right about now."

Twenty minutes later, after some quick unpacking, Beth was dressed and ready.

"Wow," Marty said, his eyes taking in, for the first time, the sight of her in the side-laced daisy duke shorts. A bikini top, black to match the little shorts' laces, cradled her big breasts in a way that said Look at these! They're fuckin' F cups, y'all! To tone down her prodigious cleavage just a touch, she wore a new cover-up on top, long sleeved and short cropped, though it didn't really do any covering, it's wide-hole fishnet showing off the goods in a most provocative way.

"Too much all at once?" she asked, trying to judge the look on Marty's face.

"It's a lot, but that's because you're a lot. A lot sexy. You look amazing. What would the PTA moms say?"

"Oh, God, remember all that? I'm so glad I'm not a school mom anymore. My wine mom friends are much cooler."

"Yeah, they are. Are they still talking about...the 'rumored' gangbang?"

Beth smirked. "No. It's been a couple weeks now with no mention of anything. God, that gossiping went on forever. I guess I don't blame them, I would have been all curious, too. I guess we dodged a bullet. Tyler and those nice boys, they kept my secret."

"Yeah, but I'd still like to know how the rumor got started. Somebody said something."

Beth nodded, not wanting to tell Marty the truth. She'd been so proud of herself, so ecstatic over having wild sex with four of the neighborhood's cute boys, she'd leaked the rumor herself at the hair salon, saying that she'd heard that it was "some woman who wanted it," never thinking that the frisky falsehood would blow up like wildfire and almost burn her. She most certainly hadn't mentioned any of the boys' names, though. She had no idea how her friend Janet had learned about any of that.

The blast of summer heat and humidity that she and Marty felt when they left the air-conditioned house surprised them. "Jesus, it's hot down here this time of year. Good thing the bar is...right here!" said Beth, smiling. "Maybe we should move next to a bar back home."

"It's not hotter than your ass, I'll tell you that," said Marty, dropping back to get a better look at it before Beth walked into the blessed cool of the bar room.

"Y'all can sit anywhere if you're eatin'," a cute waitress said. "Specials are up on the board."

A whole lot of male eyes followed Beth to a table where she knew she'd be seen, the perfect landing spot to pig out on some pub food and drink down some cold beers.

When the waitress came to take their drink order, Marty asked, "What's your finest beer?"

"Budweiser drafts are a dollar. Pitchers are five bucks. That's what most folks get."

"A bargain. We'll take a pitcher."

Returning with the beer just a minute later, the waitress asked, "Y'all on vacation?"

"Yes," Beth said. "We're staying next door. The little gray house."

"Oh my God, really? Did you buy that place? That'd make my boss really happy."

"No, we just took over a timeshare week from a friend. A friend of my Mom's."

"Oh, yeah, see...that place is all old people. They complain about everything. My boss has been trying to buy it, but, the company that owns it won't sell."

"I see on the specials board that you have a bikini contest every Friday," Beth said. "Do you do it out back, at that outdoor bar we saw?"

"No, we do the contests inside on the stage. It'd be fun out on the back terrace, or on the beach, but, the customers all like it when the girls go a little wild, so..."

"Ooo, nice," Beth said, smiling. "Where do I sign up?"

"You gonna give it a try?" said the waitress, smiling, letting her eyes drift downward. "Oh, yeah, you'll do great. Big tits are a big thing around here. Maybe everywhere. You just sign up day of. I'd say, show up around eight o'clock. It sorta leads right into when the band starts playin'."

Beth nodded. "Maybe we'll come earlier and have a couple drinks."

"Yeah, for sure," the waitress said, smiling. "Catch a nice buzz and shake those titties. It gets kinda loud in here. It's pretty fun."

The bar room's pool table, off in a quiet corner, went unused while Marty and Beth waited for their food. Eventually though, two men started a game, and Beth was glad to see that the bar seemed to be a comfortable place for these 'men of color' to hang out. Before arriving in Panama City Beth had wondered if this part of Florida was racially tolerant, but here, in this little bar-room-sized corner of the city, it appeared to be.

The cute waitress brought the burgers and fries, along with a fresh pitcher of beer. Beth had a perfect view of the two strangers playing pool, so as she ate she watched them with twinkling eyes as they took turns bending over the table to take their shots.

"Good looking guys," Marty said, smirking, as he wiped some burger juice from his lips. "You haven't played in a while."

"What's that supposed to mean!" said Beth, her wide eyes playfully surprised. "Are you taking about...the boys? "

Marty chuckled, holding his napkin over his mouth. No, but, now that you mention it. Wow, you've got sex on the brain..."

"Where else should I have it!" said Beth, surprised and embarrassed.

"Tell you what, after you eat, ask them for a game," Marty said, his throat feeling the cool tingle after a nice swig of cold beer. "I'm sure, with you in those shorts, they'll want to follow you anywhere. I'm all in if you are. We're a long way from home."

"Marty! I'm...surprised. You wouldn't...mind...that? I mean, wow!"

"Eat up, Hun. You don't want them to leave before you're ready."

Marty bit deep into his good burger, watching the wheels turn in Beth's head. Her eyes glanced at the two men, not staring like she'd been doing. There was a whole lot of thinking going on, Marty could tell.

He smiled when her reaches for the french fries became swifter, the bites of her cheeseburger bigger. It was all subtle, but yes, she was working toward something, he was pretty sure. "When's the last time you played pool?" he asked, trying to remember.

"It's been a while. Will I make a fool of myself? Will they know I'm...flirting?"

"Yeah, they'll know, if you're doing it right."

"Marty, I don't know about this. Are you...sure?"

"Like I said, we're a long way from home. I'm getting a fun vibe from this place."

"Yeah, me too. There was a bar back in college, in Syracuse, it didn't have pool, but it was so comfortable, like this. It seemed like everybody from the city was there. Black, white, bikers, dressed up people. There was incredible music, blues mostly. Oh my God, you would have loved it."

"Yeah, sounds awesome. Meanwhile...those guys over there would like to meet you."

"Marty! What are you, my pimp now? What's gotten into you?"

"I guess, you and those boys last month. I got a kick out of it."

"A kick? "

"Yeah, you know, it turned me on. I told you. The way you were, the way you sounded. I wouldn't mind seeing that again, hearing that again."

Beth sat still, shaking her head. Surprise, love, and excitement showed in her eyes in equal measure. "Marty Berenstine, you continue to surprise me. You know I love you, forever and ever, right?"

Marty smiled. "And I love you, hun. Now go make some new friends. I'll finish your food."

Beth tingled from head to toe. "Just so I'm clear...I'm...asking them home with us?"

"Yeah. I mean, you know I'm not into dudes, so I'll just watch."

"Ffffuck," whispered Beth, feeling a shot of the tingles again. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

Beth stood, suddenly remembering what she was wearing — the daisy dukes, with all the hip flesh showing down the laced-up sides, and the cheeky panty-style backside of them that will look mega slutty when she's bent over to take her pool shots. Not to mention the way her big, weighty breasts will hang in the skimpy bikini top when she's bent over. Yikes, she thought. Maybe this is crazy!

Yes, crazy, and a first for her, being this brazenly slutty in bar room. Her flip flops flipped and flopped as she walked toward the two men, her mind going to slow motion as she remembered a sexier pair of shoes she should have worn.

Beth smiled when the men saw her nearing. "I wanna play the winner, or maybe both of you. I asked my nice husband. I haven't played in a while, but, he thinks I might end up on top," she said, her eyes sparkling with pure sexiness. She wondered where this effortless flirting was coming from.

Both men looked her over, one quickly, one slower and more lascivious. "You from up north?" the quick one asked.

"Yup. Upstate New York. We're here on a little vacation, staying in that little house right next door, if you can believe it. Do you guys hang out here? My husband and I were just saying we like the feel of this place. It seems friendly."

"Yeah, we can be friendly," the slow looker said, smirking. The not-so-subtle lustfulness in his eyes made Beth tingle again, head to toe.

"So are we gonna play together or what?" she asked, her eyes on the slow looker as he took a lecherously slow look at her body again. "You guys might have to help me learn. I'm new at this."

"Eight ball. Ever play it? What's your name?"

"Beth," she said, immediately wishing she'd made up a name. "What's yours?"

"I'm King. That's Press. Beth, huh? Yeah, that fits."

Beth smiled. "Jeeze, am I really that boring. Why don't you give me a nickname."

"I'll call you B," said King. "B-Titty. Does that offend you?"

"No, I kind of love it," said Beth, smiling. "Yeah, that's a keeper."

King smiled, gestured toward Marty who was just finishing up the two dinners. "Will it offend your husband?"

"He'll love it, too. He's a big fan of my tits."

"As he should be," King said, his once again wicked gaze drinking in Beth like a glass of fine whiskey. "You got a body on you, Beth."

"Oh, we're back to Beth now? Just when I thought I was becoming cool."

Press had been setting up the table as King and Beth talked, readying a game of eight ball. "You break," said King, handing Beth a cue. "Show us that fine ass."

Beth sized things up as she stepped to the table, planning her seduction as best she could. Widening her stance more than would be normal, she bent at the waist and arched her back downward, giving these two men, and Marty, and anyone else who was looking, a remarkable view of what these stretchy tight, wildly cut daisy dukes do for a pretty darn nice forty-six-year-old ass.

"Damn, girl! Maybe we got the wrong nickname for you," said King.

"But I like B-Titty," she said, nearly whining like a teenager.

"B-Sexy. B-Do It. B-Doggy...I don't know, whatchu like best?"

A loud crack rang out when Beth broke, opening the game with one lucky ball going in a corner pocket.

"You got stripes," King said. "We got solid, as soon as you bent over, girl."

Beth smiled. "Jeeze, sounds like I'm dealing with some experienced players, here. You guys do this often? Play with out-of-town women?"

"No, you're special. Right, Press?"

"Yup," Press said. "Y'all gonna be in town awhile, B?"

"A week, but...this is a one and done good time tonight, okay? It's kinda like the Olympics. You dream about it for your whole life and then, wham, you go for a gold medal, then it's back to realty."

Press smiled. "You're a philosopher."

"No, just a housewife who's about to get double lucky, I hope." Saying it out loud made Beth tingle all over again. Her eyes showed her own quiet lustfulness as she gazed upon these two new male friends.

"Let me ask you this," said King, posturing, his eyes intense again. "Why us?"

"Oh, wow," said Beth. "Why you two guys? I'm not gonna lie and say your beautiful skin doesn't turn me on, because it does. But I mean, you're friends, you're alone, you're confident. You got the nicest asses. Does anything else matter? Can't a girl just be turned on so much nothing else matters?"

"Damn, woman. You got somethin'. You got me hooked. How 'bout you, Press?"

"Right next door?" asked Press.

"Yup," said Beth. "Easy. No driving around. If your girlfriend tracks your phone's GPS she'll think you're still at the bar," she added, smirking in a sexy, kittenish way.

Press smiled, maybe blushing, Beth thought, so she smiled, too. He didn't say 'No, I'm not doing this', so that meant that he probably was. Yes, the look in his eyes said he was. Beth's tingles seemed to affect her breathing, feeling as if she was suddenly out of oxygen, becoming lightheaded, all the sensations of hyperventilating even though she wasn't. She heard the crack of ball against ball. King had hit a shot, his confident posture now upright again, eyes scanning the table for the next ball to pocket.