Rita - Gulf Shores

A conference at a beach resort sounded great. Maybe I could not only knock out a few of the CME credits I was required to maintain for my licensure, but also get in some much need relaxation. The electronic brochure that was on my computer looked so inviting, and the price was very reasonable.

"When is it?" Tony asked when I called him at work.

"The third week of May, the 18^th to the 21^st," I repeated for him as he checked his calendar.

"Of this year? Babe, that's only like ten weeks away," he sounded exasperated. I hadn't seen the notice about this regional conference before, and I assumed that they were trying to garner more business as the prices were way less than the Annual National Dermatology meeting.

"Tony, I know it's short notice, but..." I hoped.

"Gulf Shores? Man, that would be nice. You could sun and I could head out all day on one of those fishing charters..." he said. "But, Ree, we're really swamped right now and Klukas just turned in his notice, so we're gonna be short-handed. Besides..." Tony seemed to always refer to his workers by just their last names, not that I really knew any of them.

"No, it's fine, " I tried to sound nonplussed. "I just thought we could have a nice long weekend together without busting the bank."

Tony could read me well. "Ree, you go. If I can get away, I can come up for the weekend, maybe. But you should go."

"I do need the credits, but I'd be bored without you. It's alright, I find something else for later in the year."

"Bored is good. You'll be in classes most of the time anyhow, then you can sit out by the pool and read, or just close your eyes and soak in the sea air and sunshine."

You'd think, living in Tampa, that would be an everyday experience but the truth was, we hardly ever went to the beach. We had a pool out back and it was such a hassle to load up the kids and the car, trek an hour to the beach to hunt for a parking spot, then haul everything out on to the sand, set up -- and then have to do all that in reverse.

"Seriously, Babe, you should go. Your mom or Kim can watch the girls. You need the credits, don't you?"

"Really, you'd be okay with..."

"Yeah, it'll be fine," he cut in. "Go, have fun," he said, waiting to hear my response.

"I'll think about it. I don't have to decide right now."

"'Kay, love ya. Gotta run, sexy."

"Love you too," I said and hung up.

It was just eight weeks later, not ten. I had hung up with Tony and sat looking at the computer for a few minutes. The beaches looked so inviting, the room luxurious, and the CME credits were ridiculous. The beauty of getting your credits at a conference were that they were so easy, you got them for basically just showing up. No end-of-course reviews, nothing to submit but a course evaluation that most everyone completed before the lecture started and signing in when you got to the lecture hall. I registered and booked a gulf view room before going back to see my afternoon patients. I had hoped Tony would agree to come up on the weekend, but that didn't work out.

The drive took about eight hours as I stopped for a lazy lunch and some window shopping in Tallahassee, not in any particular hurry to make it to the resort, the Perdido Beach Resort, early. The only thing planned for the evening was a reception on the pool deck and entertainment -- some comedian -- and picking up your registration package that had your name tag, the admission to all the next few days' courses.

I knew the names of a few of the people in attendance, but seemed to be the only person from Tampa, which was fine. Tony -- and the comedian -- both seemed to have the same idea of what the conference was about, and after a few glasses of wine my mind did wander as I assessed the others in attendance, mostly dressed in casual beach attire. Tony had purchased two new Malibu Strings bikinis for me: a Neon Palms with Triangle top and Malibu Micro bottom, and the Summer Rainbow, same top style but with a Tiny Open Triangle bottom. The comedian made lots of implications about the beach and all the skin folks would be examining "professionally, of course" and I had gotten enough exhortations from Tony to "have fun" that I knew that's really what he wanted me to do. My exhibitionist tendencies and his sheer pleasure in hearing about, if he could not actually experience my flauntings, had me tingling by the time I finally fell asleep completely nude with the shades and windows open, luxuriating in the sounds of the waves and the crisp breeze reaching into my third floor room.

Room service knocked at precisely seven forty-five as I had ordered. The lectures began at eight thirty, so I had time to sit and enjoy the gorgeous morning on the balcony. His name tag said "Roberto" and he showed no real reaction as I opened the door in just tiny semi-transparent tangerine thong panties.

"Hi," I said waving him in. "Can you set that on the balcony table please?"

"Yes, ma'am" he said. I did detect a smile as I let him pass. As he set the tray down and set the orange juice, coffee, and my fruit and yogurt out, I took a seat. He was glancing, very discreetly, at my breasts and the taut nipples reacting to the morning breeze. Maybe more than the breeze.

"Will that be all, ma'am?" not the slightest double entende' detectable in his voice.

"Would you mind?" I asked, handing him my camera, "I want to show my husband what he's missing."

Roberto took the camera and lined up the shot of the breakfast, and me smiling. Turning the camera, he took another which I noticed later was quite good, me and the table off to the left and a view of the wide beach and rolling waves in the background. I had to wonder how many other women asked for photos while undressed as he remained very professional and framed the photos expertly.

"Anything else, ma'am?" he asked, as he handed back my phone.

I glanced at the two pictures he had taken and smiled. "No, I think these will make him sorry he missed this weekend," a naughty look in my eyes.

Roberto just smiled, nodded, and headed out.

I laughed as I reached for my orange juice. "My god, Rita, you actually did that!" I congratulated myself, moving my glass to 'clink' my imaginary other self. Tony had said to 'have fun' and I knew what he was hoping would happen. He loved me showing myself to others, encouraged it, and had me tell him every detail of any experiences I had when he wasn't physically present to observe them himself. The whole KDE thing had been over for several years and, while it could have turned both of us off, it had allowed me to flourish in this side of myself. I was still as a rule very private and would not generally give in to Tony's desires -or my own- when near our home or pretty much anywhere in town. There were our professional lives to consider, and our family. Honestly, while it thrilled me, there was also always a sense of fear or anxiety. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush, the fear/excitement of the unknown, the risk. I adored the sexual tension it filled me with, the arousal, and Tony... Tony relished everything about my exhibitionism, the pride in his beautiful wife, the sensuality of my revealing myself, the having of that which other men wanted. It was a total aphrodisiac for him, for both of us, and our love life soared.

This time was the first time I had taken a picture of one of my exposures. He would know immediately from the angle that it was not a selfie, that someone was there, with my breasts bared, nipples firm and within reach - in the daylight!

"Good morning, my lover" I texted with the two photos and hit send.

"OMG" came back in seconds, followed by that emoticon with the wide eyes and tongue hanging out. I laughed.

"who?" followed in another second.

"roberto, with room service. perfect gentleman." I typed. I knew he had no worries, knew I was completely his, but I had to let him know that the pictures were all, that nothing else occurred.

"you just made both our days!!" Tony sent me in another few moments.

I snapped a selfie and sent it. The caption read "I think he probably liked these too" and showed me standing by the railing in my tangerine thong, my breasts hard above the rail and bathed in the sun.

"fuck! we'll both be beating off later" a small emoticon of an erection following.

I loved that Tony and I shared this, that he and I were both aroused and delightfully provoked by my showing myself.

"classes in 10 min, gotta go. Love you!" I typed and headed inside to dress.

As I have said, professionally I am rather conservative in my dress. I went for a long time in slacks and scrubs, thinking I was covering up. And I was, but not as much as I thought. Tony pointed out to me that I always liked my slacks fitting, as I did my scrubs and though they didn't reveal me like a short skirt might, once I was aware - with my Darling's help -, I could see that often my panties were clearly outlined, and my beautiful feminine flower showed as what is referred to as a camel toe. Now, as part of my exhibitionist tendency, if I do have on slacks I make sure they are fitting enough and lightweight enough to show a cameltoe so I can 'innocently' be revealing my body. The same goes for my bras. They had always been 'normal,' with those fiber/foam cups. Now, if I am even wearing a bra, it is unlined and pretty thin so that my breasts move about and my seemingly always excited nipples can show themselves. Tony loves it, and both of us seem to notice that lots of other folks like my attire as well, while I pretend to be oblivious.

Already excited by my daring encounter with Roberto earlier, my tangerine thong was sunk between my labia emphasizing my feminine cleft as I slipped on a lightweight pair of bone colored high waisted slacks that I particularly liked. While not skin-tight, the cut was such that through the crotch they fit in the most provocative way without being obscene. There was no doubt to anyone who looked, and after years of Tony helping me notice how many did look, that there was most assuredly a woman underneath them. I argued with myself about my top and whether or not to wear a bra. My breasts are not huge, firm Bs -- almost a C. They don't swing to and fro, but sway seductively if one is watching. My quarter sized areola are only slightly darker than my breasts, hardly drawing attention themselves, but my nipples, perfectly centered and almost half the diameter of the areola, are very reactive and when stimulated -- seemingly at times always! -- are about a half inch in length. I wanted to go without a bra, but knowing that invariably these conference centers were always cold and that some pretense of professionalism had to be maintained, I opted for flesh toned, lace demi-cup under a floral print, button up silk blouse. A thin navy-blue leather belt and matching two inch kitten heels completed my professional ensemble.

The name tag was on one of those thingies that hung around your neck, and while it meant I didn't have to pin it on my silk blouse I would have rather clipped it on my waist or something. As I looked around in the first session of the morning for a seat, I changed my mind about the name tag as an MD from Wisconsin said hi while staring at my chest.

"I'm sorry," he said looking a bit guilty, "I was trying to read your name," he finished as his eyes came up top meet mine.

I smiled and turned it so he could read it, leaving it right between my breasts.

"HI, Rita from Tampa," he smiled broadly offering his hand. "I see you're an NP."

"HI," I returned his smile. "Thom from Janesville, Wisconsin. Long way from home, huh?"

"Well, yeah, came down here to get away from the frigid north. Maybe see a beach that doesn't freeze in the winter."

I noticed no ring on his hand. "And maybe some women not wearing parkas?"

He had a crooked grin. "Lots of parkas in Janesville. And flannel."

I smiled, "Like that guy said last night, there should be lots of skin to check out by the pool. Probably won't be a parka in sight, and I doubt much flannel."

Thom from Janesville pulled out the chair next to his at the table and nodded.

"Thanks, I generally like to sit a little closer to the speaker. Have a good conference," I replied and walked further into the room. I knew he was watching me walk away, - and that he'd see no pantyline.

"Anyone sitting here?" I asked the two guys with their heads down reading the course curriculums in front of them at a table about a third of the way from the back.

"Nope," said the one on the right without looking up, while the one on the left turned to glance in my direction. Well not at me, when he turned he was looking at my middle. That split second hesitation, which I would not have recognized years ago, let me know he'd seen my womanly curves. His eyes stopped, just for a tiny bit, and then came upward.

"Uh, hi," he said sliding his chair back and smiling. He stood and said "Yeah, please join us," as he pulled the chair between them out.

I bent and set my papers down, wishing I had not buttoned my blouse all the way up. I wanted to tease, he was really cute.

"I'm Greg. Greg Blacksmith," he continued to smile at me.

Still bent over, I reached out and turned my name tag dangling between my breasts toward him, "Rita from Tampa," I said, intentionally asking him to look, hoping he'd look.

"Oh, you're an NP?" Greg said as he sat back in his seat. Just then a voice came from my right. "Al Jurison," I heard him say.

I swung my body toward him and held out my nametag as I had for Greg, "Rita from Tampa. Pleasure to meet you both," I smiled as I sat down.

"Tampa, huh? We're neighbors," said Greg. "I'm out of Lakeland."

"Charlotte," said Al.

And so it went with each session throughout the morning. I'd find seat, be pleasant and daydream about naughty things as someone rambled on about this or that dermatological concern or issue. I met, as such, a number of colleagues and collected a few cards while handing out my own. I had, between the first and second session, taken the opportunity to undo a button on my blouse so it was a bit more open, as well as adjust myself in my bra. The top edges of the demi-cups were tickling my nipples almost to distraction, so I moved my breasts around a bit to break the constant contact.

Tony had suggested, encouraged, cajoled me about having fun. This morning started great, but I was feeling less than enthused about the sessions. Over lunch I decided to lose my bra, and had a sandwich I picked up at the hotel deli in my room as I sat topless outside on the balcony. The sun felt so amazing on my naked breasts, and I wondered foolishly how it would feel to attend the two afternoon session dressed like this. To be honest, there were times I sincerely missed -- craved -- the DKE hospitality suite, being all but naked with all those men wanting me. The crude comments meant as compliments, the hands furtively touching -some less gentle -, eyes touching and caressing every part of me, and wondering openly about what was hidden by the panties I still wore. I never left any doubt I had full bush, the panties couldn't cover every stray hair. Full is perhaps a misnomer, my labia were free of hair, courtesy lately of laser treatment but for years carefully shaven. I smiled at the recollection of those times; the feeling of being lusted after and wanted so openly, the power of my body over so many men. Horribly frightening at first, I'd come to relish headiness and excitement, the delight I felt in being so wanted, savored by so many men in their dreams, deriving honest pleasure in the sexual tension during the conventions, and again when I shared every moment with Tony who took as much pleasure in my escapades as I did. It was our aphrodisiac, our foreplay, a powerful, intoxicating shared enjoyment.

The alarm on my phone went off, recalling me to the present. Smiling, I stood, leaned against the glass railing and snapped a selfie to send to Tony. It was then that I noticed the number on my phone; a message sent at 7:51?

I opened the app and shook my head. That sneaky Roberto had sent himself, I guessed, the first photo of me at the table this morning, as he "lined up" the more panoramic one he took capturing the beach and ocean. I was flattered that the young man had thought me pretty enough to want a picture of me topless -- I'm sure he didn't know those breasts had suckled two kids -- but also concerned. It would take nothing for him to look up my name, he had it on the room charge for sure, and he might post the picture where someone who knew me or Tony could find it.

I sent the selfie I had just taken to Tony. "blouse or no blouse for my afternoon sessions?" I teased. It took a couple minutes for him to get back to me during which I decided I needed to be more cautious and put my bra back on before slipping on my blouse as I needed to maintain a façade of professionalism among my peers, but I left the top button undone. Well, but accidents do happen; I undid another button just as my phone buzzed. It was Tony calling.

"Hi handsome man," I cooed.

"Bobby says no blouse," Tony deadpanned.

"What?!" I instinctively put my hand over my chest, though Bobby had seen me topless before.

Tony laughed, "Sorry, I was on the shop floor and he answered the phone when it buzzed.."

"Tony, you always carry your phone! What if one of the guys was in the office instead of Bobby?" I said shocked.

"You're right, Babe. I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"It's fine, I guess. It's... it's been years since he... Kim and I were drunk...." I really don't know why it bothered me so much. I suppose it was that he was family, and that you don't show your tits to your sister's husband. It didn't bother me in the least that Tony had seen Kim's at the same time, or even that he had commented on them a few times. This was, I don't know, it was my brother-in-law, it was unexpected, and the photo was for Tony.

"You look great in this pic," Tony said, I guessed looking at his phone as we spoke. "I think you'd distract a lot of folks if you went downstairs without your blouse, however, so..."

I laughed, "Ya think? But I'm sure I'd get some job offers, and I wouldn't even have to go by the Resources booth."

"You'd get offers, for sure, but maybe not for what you're thinking," he said, trying to sound serious.

"I know," I sighed. "Babe, that guy this morning, Roberto, he.., it looks like he sent himself or someone the photo of me at the table this morning..."

"What?" he said with an edge in his voice. Tony encouraged and reveled in my being seen, but somehow, as I too felt, different to 'steal' a photo of me.

"Well, I was going to text you. I mean, just now, when I sent you my picture, and I noticed a text from my phone to a number I didn't know. I clicked and it's my picture sent to this strange number..."

"He's probably just gonna whack off while staring at the most gorgeous woman on Earth. I'm sure he's going to imagine cumming all over your fabulous breasts," I could hear him smiling, but it was him trying to assure me all was fine. I adored when Tony came on me; I'd lie if I said I never thought about it with others. To have a man orgasm wanting me... a flush ran through my body. Not having me, but the power to have then cum just wanting....

"Tony.." I whispered.

"Text me the number, Ree" the edge back in his voice.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Just make sure he understands I'm.. we're, not angry with him having the photo, but that it's only for him, not to share. And that he should have asked."

"Okay," I said softly. "you're not upset I let him..."

"No, Ree, it was hot, very hot." I could hear the sincerity of 'very hot.' "I wouldn't have minded if he shot ten or twenty pictures of you. Even completely naked, but he shouldn't just take them without asking. And I know we don't want them floating around for anyone to find." His tone was flat, even.