Metamorphosis

Later we sat on the sofa catching up with the local news. Rosie had her denim shorts and a pair of scissors. She was trimming the excess material from the seam through the gusset of the shorts. When she was done, there was barely a half inch of material remaining. I watched silently. Rosie was further into her exhibitionism than even she realized. It excited the hell out of me.

At breakfast the next morning, Rosie appeared with just two articles of clothing, a t-shirt and her almost non-existent shorts. We ate silently. Before she went outside, she surreptitiously bent over to show me the fit of her shorts. She was already aroused and her pussy lips puffed out on either side of the seam of her shorts. She was ready to garden and I was ready to watch.

The results were as expected. The neighborhood men didn't even pretend to walk by the house. They just gathered in front and watched Rosie work. When a couple of the neighborhood women showed up, Rosie calmly picked up her basket and walked around to the back yard. The show was over and the men reluctantly wandered away to take care of themselves and, if they were lucky, their wives.

Inside, Rosie came over to me and kissed me. "Whew. That was intense," she said.

"I loved it," I said and she smiled and kissed me again.

Over lunch, I asked, "What's next?"

"What's next? What's left?" Rosie asked.

I got up, returned with a pair of scissors that I handed to her.

"What's these for?" she asked.

I reached over and tugged on her t-shirt."

"What?" she asked. "Oh, you want me to trim the bottom of the t-shirt."

"Why not? You've only got one more chance to star in the gardening production before somebody calls the cops. You might as well make the most of it. Besides, you'll still be covered. You've worn bathing suits with less material."

"But not in our front yard," she rejoindered.

I sat quietly.

"Hell," she said. She stood up, pulled the t-shirt down tight on her body and handed me the scissors. "Trim it evenly all the way around."

I took measure with my hands about an inch below the bottom of her breasts and cut the bottom of the shirt the same length around her body. She slipped the circle of material over her hips and off her legs. I followed her into the bedroom to evaluate the effect in her bedroom mirror. She twisted and turned, carefully appraising the view. She spent a few minutes looking at the way the shirt hung over her breasts the she took the shirt off and asked me for the scissors.

She sat on the bed and trimmed another inch and a half from the hem of the shirt. When she put it back on, her nipples were still covered but the bottoms of her breasts were visible below the shirt. "What do you think?" she asked.

I let out a slow whistle and adjusted my erection in my shorts.

I watched as Rosie bent forward and twisted her body in different directions to insure the integrity of the shirt covering her breasts. Once, when she twisted suddenly, one of her breasts popped out from below the shirt. She replaced it and tried again. After several tries, she knew how not to move to expose her breast and which movement exposed it.

That afternoon, Rosie went out to garden, probably for the last time. As I watched her leave, I had a sudden realization. Rosie wasn't practicing how to keep her breast covered. She was learning how to make it fall out. My wife was going to flash the neighborhood.

I went out the back door, around the house next door and covertly joined the group on the sidewalk. Their attention peaked when she appeared with the middle of her t-shirt missing. Everyone watched intently as she squat and bent to her work. After about ten minutes of preliminaries, Rosie stood tall and bent over her basket. She pulled on something inside the basket and then harder when it didn't move. Her right breast moved from under her shirt. Several members of the audience gasped audibly. I might have been among them.

Rosie stood facing the crowd without attempting to correct her wardrobe malfunction. Without any recognition anyone was watching, she bent forward to pick up her basket with her breast hanging freely in front of her. She picked up her basket, walked around the house and disappeared.

I rushed back to the kitchen. When Rosie came in from the garage, her breast was still exposed. "Damn, that was hot," she said. "I need you to fuck me right now."

When I didn't immediately respond, she repeated, "NOW."

She pulled off her shorts and bent over the kitchen table. I pushed my shorts to my knees and my erection into her to the hilt. I don't know who came first but I came once. This was the kitchen table after all.

Conversations with Rosie about her newfound fondness to tantalize men were becoming commonplace and, after dinner that evening, was no exception. "What's next?" asked Rosie.

"What do you mean 'What's next?'" I asked.

"Well, I'm really enjoying playing with men's fantasies and I can't garden in the front yard any further without going naked and that's not in the picture. So where do we go from here?"

"You're including me in the activity?"

"I am. You're integral to how I feel about what I'm doing," explained Rosie.

"I admit it was my idea, having you express your sexuality more openly but you've taken control and I'm just a happy observer."

"How have I taken control?"

"I've made suggestions and you've accepted them and acted on them but, lately, you've gone beyond my suggestions. For example, you cut the t-shirt shorter and practiced having your tit 'accidentally' fall out this afternoon. Neither of those were my suggestions although I'm delighted with the results. I think you own this project going forward."

"Okay. I see what you're saying. Actually, I'm having trouble believing everything I've done lately. Do you think I've gone too far?"

"No. Except for your boob falling out, you been fine and you kept it short. Any longer and the cops might have shown up. More is always okay until it isn't. I think it's wonderful to go to the limit, and maybe a little over, as long as it's harmless and legal.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that since I think I'm addicted to the many emotions I have when I expose myself."

"Tell me more."

"Well, as much as I would have denied it in the past, I'm energized by being the center of men's attention and women's envy. So much so, that I'm concerned about my ego getting out of control and doing something stupid, like letting my boob fall out. That's where you come in. I'm counting on you to stop me just short of stupid. In addition, I get incredibly horny. Knowing you support me is part of it. My panties are soaked after every adventure if I'm wearing them. You're always there to fuck my brains out when I need you the most and the sex we have the rest of the time is better than ever. You're part of this as much as I am."

"Okay. I'm in but no more planning without me knowing about it. So, what's next?"

"That's my question."

"Let me think about it."

We fucked all night while I thought about where to take Rosie's addiction. In the morning, I went out to retrieve the trash container and shoo away any 'walkers' lingering in front of the house when I noticed a police cruiser idling up the block facing our house. Back inside, I told Rosie about the added attention and said, "You retired just in time."

We lingered over breakfast and I suggested a path forward for both of us. I told Rosie she needed to upgrade her wardrobe, tighter blouses with lower necklines, preferably with buttons that she could use to reveal an amount of cleavage suitable for each occasion. That would require additional bra styles like push-ups or half bras and even the possibility of going braless if the situation warranted.

I also suggested shorter and tighter skirts that would accent her hips and ass and dresses that would flare out when she turned and show off her thighs and could be easily raised when seated to offer a peek at her panties. It might also offer an opportunity to allow a quick flash of her naked pussy if she was inclined to be so brave. "You might even grow back the hair on your pussy to insure the viewer believed what he thought he saw. Under some circumstances, nylons and heels might increase your allure.

"You should find, and wear, a delicate scent that is guaranteed to separate a man from his ability to think as straight as his dick was becoming. If they made something called 'Pussy' it would be perfect.

"Finally, you should develop a more open relationship with the men you talk to. Smile at them and laugh at their senseless comments. Let them buy you a drink if you want to. Touch them and don't shy away from them touching you appropriately. Even dance with them if you want. And, this is the most important part, always come back to me for the grand finale."

"I could have some real fun."

"You could."

"What if I'm flirting with someone and he gets too handsy or I've had too much to drink and begin to lose my inhibitions?"

"That's when you excuse yourself to go to the ladies room to disappear. I'll always be nearby and I'll step in if necessary. I'll tell you what, I'll sit with a drink somewhere you can see me and, if I push my drink away from me on the table, you know it's time to freshen up."

We went shopping for Rosie over the next several days. She bought many of the things I suggested and few I didn't. Some things she wouldn't show me. "I want to surprise you," she told me. She tried some of them on for me and practiced her movements until she felt confident.

We set up a schedule. Tuesday nights would be date night. Rosie and I would go out together and she could use her talents to work me into a frenzy. She was good at it and, over the next several months, several times we didn't make it home before she gave me a blowjob in the car or I fucked her bent over the bonnet in some isolated park.

Saturday nights we frequented the city nightspots. Usually, we entered separately and Rosie scouted for single and probably horny men to tease. She was very good at it, leaning forward, braless in a scoop necked blouse or a shirt with the buttons undone half way to her navel. She would cross and uncross her legs frequently, separating her knees further than necessary and letting her skirt ride up on her thighs.

It worked perfectly on the men she entertained. I know, because it worked on me and I was yards away as I watched her. On two occasions, I had to assert myself when she had a problem. The first time, a narcissist lout in a thousand dollar suit, held her arm on the bar when she tried to leave. I waved to the bartender and he had the situation under control before I got there. I walked Rosie out the back door and we headed home.

"God, I was scared," she said once we were in the car. "I wasn't sure if I wet my pants or had an orgasm."

I checked and couldn't decide. She did have the orgasm before we left the parking lot.

The second time was a Saturday night and I was distracted. I had gone to the men's room and, when I came back, Rosie was gone as so were the three thirty-something guys she had been talking to. I asked and the bartender pointed to the rear of the hallway heading outside.

Outside, I found the four of them at the end of the alley. Two of them had Rosie up on a barrel with her skirt around her waist and the third was in the process of pulling down his pants. "What the fuck are you guys doing?" I yelled.

They looked up at me, let go of Rosie and rushed by me out of the alley. I didn't know it at the time, but the Irish bartender, a former pro wrestler, was standing behind me with a shillelagh. I went to Rosie and helped her down from the barrel. When I turned around and saw the bartender, I thanked him for the backup and headed for the car with Rosie.

On the ride home, Rosie was shaking like a leaf in a brisk wind. "Bill, I was scared to death. They half dragged me outside and I couldn't find you. They pulled up my skirt, pulled off my panties, and put me up on the barrel. I knew they were going to fuck me. All three of them. One at a time."

"I had to pee. I'm sorry I wasn't there to save you. Next time I'll pee in my pants."

"You did all right. You got there just in time. No need to embarrass yourself."

"It was a pretty scary situation. I'm glad you're okay."

"That's not all. I was scared they were going to fuck me but what scared me the most, was I was going to let them."

"What?"

"As frightened as I was, I wondered how having their cocks inside me would feel. I was almost looking forward to finding out. I'm sorry."

"Rosie, I hear you. This is getting too dangerous. I've no desire to see you get raped or worse. We need to rethink things and find a more acceptable outlet. Maybe one where we are both part of the plan and you can stop wondering."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let me do some research and we can talk about it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I just want to get you home and safe."

That night I held Rosie in my arms and cradled her as she fell asleep. The last thing she said was, "My panties are back in the alley."

Sunday morning, I spent a couple of hours on the computer after breakfast and sat down to talk with Rosie before lunch.

"Rosie," I said. "I think it's time for us to take a vacation. At least a week at one of those all inclusive, Caribbean resorts with lots of sun, sand and adult beverages."

"We could use some time away," she agreed.

"I've found a couple of possibilities. They all have sun, sand, booze and a couple of other benefits."

"Such as?"

"They're all adults only, everything included and clothing optional."

"Clothing optional. Does that mean completely naked?" she asked.

"It does if you're so inclined. It also means that we'd be together. Neither of us would be at risk."

"Get back to clothing optional. I'm not sure I can go completely nude in front of hundreds of people nor am I ready to watch other people parade around in the altogether."

"You wouldn't have to if you were uncomfortable. How about this as an icebreaker? I think you should have at least four bathing suits, each more revealing that the other. It would be similar to your escapade gardening in the front yard. You would have a one-piece suit, a modest two-piece suit, a regular bikini and a string bikini made from less than the material in a quarter of a handkerchief that would cover your nipples and your clitoris and not much else. You could progress your beachwear during the week based on your comfort level and willingness to be on display."

"I guess I could try."

"My guess is three of the suits would be superfluous. Once you see dozens of other naked ladies, all of them less attractive than you, I believe you'd have no problem joining them."

"What about you?"

"I'll take off my suit when you do. That way we would be equally attired."

"Wouldn't you have an erection and wouldn't it be embarrassing?"

"Probably, for a short time, but I don't think I'll be alone. I bet most of the guests are familiar with the problem and it does go away after a short time."

Rosie warmed to the idea and I booked an eight-day stay at a resort in Negril. It had all the things I had told Rosie about and a few others, I hadn't. They weren't on the resort's web page but I found references on bulletin boards and reviews. In brief, they all suggested that the sun, sand, surf, sangria and skin frequently led to couples having sex between themselves and others.

We flew to Jamaica and the resort shuttle ferried us from the airport. We checked in and were shown to one of the "Au Natural, hot tub terrace" rooms with an ocean view. It was an amazing room with a king sized bed, glass enclosed bathroom with a glass shower large enough for two, a hot tub on the outside deck and a mirror on the ceiling. It was friggin' expensive, but I was hoping, worth every penny.

Rosie noticed the mirror on the ceiling. I told her she could watch the action if she kept her eyes open. She also asked about the "Au Natural" designation although I suspected she knew the answer. I explained the resort had two options, side by side. One was labeled "Prude" and it was clothing optional with its own beach, pools and amenities. We were booked into the "Au Natural" half of the property where clothing was discouraged, also with its own beach, pool and amenities.

Rosie looked pensive as we unpacked. I noticed she had brought only two bathing suits, the one-piece and the string bikini. When I asked, she told me she figured she was going to be covered all week or not. She mused that she might not even need the bikini at all. I suggested we take a walk around the property to get our bearings and that we should start on the modest half of the property. She agreed and we changed for the walk. I wore a pair of shorts and a golf shirt with sandals. Rosie changed into her Daisy Duke outfit and a gossamer beach cover up. I was already thinking she was most of the way convinced she was going to spend the week naked.

The resort was fantastic. It was twenty-two acres of light forest, gardens, pools, and rooms fronting an ocean beach with two distinct sections. As we walked, Rosie commented on the lack of clothing on even the "Prude" side of the resort. I estimated at least eighty percent of the guests were completely naked and "prude" meant that the women were only topless. Rosie took a comfort break and returned without her t-shirt and her cover flowing behind held in place in front by only the tips of her breasts.

I hugged and kissed her. "You look fantastic."

"I'm shaking like a leaf. One part of me wants to run and hide and the other part is giddy, even aroused, walking around with my tits on display."

"You're not alone. Look around. I don't see a single woman who isn't topless. No one is going to notice you among the rest of them."

I was right except for Rosie's incredible beauty. She attracted attention even fully dressed. What I really meant was that she wouldn't attract more attention than usual.

We walked around for a short while and then headed for the beach. Eventually, we reached a barrier with a sign that said we were approaching a nude beach and clothing was not expected. While we were standing there, debating whether to continue without clothing, a naked middle-aged couple walked by us. "Go for it," the gentleman said. "It's not a bad as it seems," added his companion as they walked onto the nude beach.

I watched Rosie struggle with the decision. "Oh, fuck it," she finally said as she undid her shorts and slid them off her legs. I noticed she was prepared, having left her panties in our room. I watched her strip down and I did the same. Rosie walked a few steps ahead of me with her cover-up streaming from her shoulders, having slipped from her breasts.

When I caught up to her, she looked down at me and commented, "I suspected that you would have a problem."

"A problem?" I asked.

"Isn't that the beginning of an erection I see?"

"Yes, but it's from looking at you, not those other naked ladies. You look so good I could fuck you right here on the beach."

"Like that couple over there?" she said and nodded in the direction of a beach chaise. A young couple was sharing the chaise. The man was on his back and the woman was straddling his hips. His hands were on her breasts as she sat upright over him. It wasn't obvious but it was more than possible his penis was surrounded by her vagina. Their movements were subtle, not drawing attention to their activity.

We wandered for several hours. Everyone we passed was very friendly. Most nodded and said hello, a couple stopped and talked with us for a while. Most of the women on the beach had sunglasses, a hat and a small towel. We had a late afternoon drink at the swim up bar. The only person wearing anything like clothing was the female bartender and she wore a bikini that rivaled Rosie's back in the room.