Sisters Ponder a Contest

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Two sisters waver while introduced to t-shirts.
1.8k words
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OBXromance
OBXromance
10 Followers

My wife and I were vacationing in south Florida a few summers ago with her sister and her sister's husband. Our hotel was several blocks from the beach, so we had a 3 or 4 block walk to the shore during the day, or to the strip of restaurants at night.

One afternoon, we had enough sun, and decided to get an early start on an evening out. Having stayed close to our hotel each of the first 3 nights, we decided to drive around a bit, looking for a change of scenery. We stumbled upon what looked like an inviting beach grill, and had a fulfilling round of select seafood, with first-rate seating on a patio overlooking the ocean.

Since it was still fairly early, we thought we'd have a nightcap at a bar next door, which we noticed on the way in to the grill. It was another breezy, straw-hut style establishment, with a DJ playing pop rock songs, and spacious seating at and around the bar. The crowd seemed somewhat young, basically a room-full of twenty-somethings.

Just as we were about finished with our drinks, the DJ announced that they would be looking for volunteers for their weekly t-shirt contest. My brother-in-law and I glanced at each other and then at our wives, as they rolled their eyes and sarcastically snickered. When my brother-in-law suggested we order another round of drinks, the girls didn't immediately protest, so he promptly headed to the bar for refills.

Moments later, the DJ began his campaign around the bar room, gathering contestants. Some were quite willing, others a bit reluctant. When he came upon our section of the bar, our wives quickly declined the invitation to participate. After convincing about 5 or 6 ladies, he huddled with them back near his station, which was situated on a small stage. I saw him reach behind his setup and pull out a handful of white t-shirts .......... short white t-shirts at that. He distributed the tops and the girls disappeared behind the stage, presumably to a room in which to change. When the current song ended, the DJ announced that he would start calling the volunteers out, one by one, to display their new found fashion. It was at this point that another lady, possibly one of the waitresses, was introduced as his assistant. She came to the stage area carrying a couple of spray bottles with her. My wife and I caught each others eye with a stirring look.

The DJ announced the first competitor, who came out wearing the skimpy little sleeveless white t-shirt, the material of which must have been considerably thin, since a faint protrusion was already noticeable through the dry garment. The assistant proceeded to spray the girl's shirt until it was rather soaked. It was then that I concluded that the material was even flimsier than I originally thought, since her average-sized breasts became very visible through the transparency of the covering. Out came the other contestants, one by one, to the cheers of the crowd.

My sister-in-law turned and asked, "You boys enjoying yourselves?"

Our response was another glance of cautious gratitude, thankful that we were even able to remain there relishing the experience.

It was about during the second-to-last entrant's turn that the DJ started petitioning for more candidates. He was pointing across the room, attempting to shame a few more women into participation. By now, we each had about 3 drinks, and even our wives were clapping and playing along with the crowd, expressing approval to these brave enthusiasts. I gazed over at them and noticed they had leaned in close to one another and were giggling and whispering something.

I thought, "What do they find amusing? Am I and my brother-in-law that predictably male? Are we drooling, for goodness sake?"

Then, without warning, my wife and her sister stood up and walked over to the DJ table. A few others did the same. It is hard to describe the sensation that swept over me at that point. With racing heart and racing mind, I started to piece together the facts that were unfolding before me - that not only was I about to witness my wife in a wet t-shirt in a public forum, in a bar full of 60 attentive people (a prospect that by its very self was incredibly tantalizing), but that I was also going to get a glimpse of my sister-in-law's generous assets as well.

The girls from Round 2 went behind stage after brief instructions from the DJ. He finished with the last hopeful from Round 1, and a new song ushered in the next set of women. My wife was the second to be announced, and my heart skipped a beat and began racing a little faster still. She looked a little reluctant walking up the back steps of the stage, and was more or less doing her best to cover up as she moved toward the front of the platform. Whatever possessed these two markedly shy girls to agree to this expose, I couldn't help wondering, but the courage they mustered moments ago at our table was apparently waning, at least with my wife. Scratching this shoulder with that hand, flipping the right side of her hair back with her left hand - she was seemingly searching for excuses to keep her hands crossed in front of her chest. The assistant made a comment to her when she reached the stage's front, which brought a smile to my wife's face, but nevertheless more hesitation. The DJ intervened over the microphone, encouraging her to cooperate with his counterpart. At this, my wife offered a shy expression again, placing her forehead into her hand, looking down at the floor. With one deep breath and a brief pause, she finally acquiesced, lifting her head and dropping her arms, to the crowd's delight, in one smooth motion. She raised her hands and then dropped them back by her sides, as if to indicate, "I did it!"

She closed her eyes as she was being drenched, and that alluring smile returned to her face. When her eyes opened, she was looking up, still visibly nervous about the whole affair. The assistant finished dousing her and again gestured her way, apparently encouraging her to soak it in and enjoy herself. At that point, my wife began rolling her shoulders in a slow, seductive manner. Her t-shirt was soaked, clinging to her luscious breasts as a perfect mold. She brought her elbows close together with the palms of her hands facing outward, using her biceps to create a rhythmical jostling of her bountiful tits. Time froze. A random hoot from the audience. This went on for 30 seconds, with her substantial boingers knocking about with each flexing of her arms, snapping back into place firmly and assertively with each reflex. As she turned to exit the spotlight, the gratified crowd acknowledged her with their lauded expression of approval.

Luckily, the next few contestants were strangers, giving me a chance to recuperate from my wife's performance, but at the same time, building yet another simmering charge of anticipation, as I knew my sister-in-law was yet to come. The second lady after my wife took an above average amount of time, which helped settle me down, while setting the stage for the next prize.

Toward the end of that performer came my sister-in-law in faint view behind the stage.

"Here we go," I thought.

Thankfully, my brother-in-law was sitting slightly in front of me, and wouldn't be able to see my jaw hit the ground for what was about to happen. Out she came in her sparse attire. I had dreamed about a moment like this. She climbed the back stairs to the stage, and upon reaching the top, paused and gave a little Ta-Dah gesture to the obliged assembly, with both hands outstretched down by her sides, before jogging forward to the front of the stage. This jog was just enough to get her bounding C-cups in motion. Her pullover seemed slightly shorter than the rest, as I could have sworn I noticed a little flesh popping out on the underside as she approached. Also plainly obvious at the two epicenters of her upper body were two conspicuous projections, wonderfully pronounced and screaming femininity. Over the years I had the pleasure of seeing my sister-in-law in various pajama tops while visibly braless. There was always significantly more material to those outfits, but the prominence of her nipples was always altogether evident. I used to speculate at times if she was perhaps wearing some type of jewelry on them, or if they were just that bulging. The assistant moved toward her with the spray bottle and my sister-in-law put her hands out to stop the woman.

The assistant persevered against this guarded contestant, as my wife's sister shook her head in disagreement, covering her face with both hands. The DJ again got involved, but she just moved her hands to the sides of her face and again shook her head to indicate that she was having second thoughts about this game. This prompted the master of ceremonies to poll the crowd for support. The cheering and incitement were unyielding. She must have realized the futility of her disengagement, because in one swift motion she threw caution to the wind and made a sudden hop forward, dropping her hands straight down to her sides, and standing upright, at attention, like a soldier in boot camp, with shoulders back, and, most importantly, chest out. Those marvelous mounds were now blatantly stretching the limits of the already papery apparel. The bottom of the shirt was no longer in contact with anything, as the sheer volume of her breasts held the shirt a good 3 inches from her rib cage. I couldn't help imagining what it might be like at that moment to be lying on the floor at her feet, looking upward. The view must be spectacular! The DJ's accomplice proceeded to saturate her plentiful melons with a stream of water. My sister-in-law generously remained in her pose for a long while, while my suspicions were confirmed. Those nipples, those dark nipples it turns out, were indeed just that genuine and that big. The only thing that trumped the beauty of her bulbous rack were the swelling bulges that capped them off. Her shirt was stuck to her like another layer of skin. It was so see-through that not much was left to the imagination. She didn't do anything too provocative, but did begin to walk across the stage a couple of times. Each step produced just the right amount of bodily inertia to make those round boobs jiggle in perfect harmony.

Minutes later, my wife returned to our table with a carnal look on her face, planted a long, french kiss on me, and said, "Well, what'd you think?"

I was speechless. She turned to my brother-in-law for a response, to which he mouthed, "Oh my God!"

We were stunned.

Then my wife's sister returned, beaming and with a raised-eyebrow expression on her face. Another "Well?"

I tried to reply with "Wow," but the words wouldn't come out.

She returned a sensuous "Thank you" nod, nevertheless.

A breathtaking experience. One I will never forget.

OBXromance
OBXromance
10 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
Fun story

Many seemingly straight laced women have desire to exhibit. Many do it at girls night out adventures.

ErotonautErotonautabout 11 years ago

Whilst mildly more titilating than your earlier 'Wife's Topless Beach Choice', it still comes across as a little vanilla. Maybe you should switch viewpoints, go inside the wives' heads and see how anxious / aroused they were by all this (if not via an inner discourse, why not go for them excitedly chatting offstage before going on?).

cutiegirl4004cutiegirl4004about 11 years ago
Too predictable to be erotic

I don't mean to be mean but this story had no real surprise to it. Perhaps some of the DJ's dialog could have spiced things up? More dialog that tells the story, less narrative. Otherwise, I found it to be cute.

brian358brian358about 11 years ago
Very Nice!

A little short but I enjoyed it.

Some nice descriptions.

Thanks!

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