Topfree at a Backyard BBQ

The weather was fine, warm with mixed clouds. Full sunlight alternated with cumulus shade every few minutes, forming a comfort zone for everyone in and around the pool. There were no children present, to draw adult attention and inhibit behavior. Once in a while, a celebrant in this backyard enclave picked up a phone to check on kids, heard that all was well, and hung up in guiltless contentment.

With briquettes heating in the bottom of the barbecue kettle, and pitchers of iced tea trickling with condensation, the friends discussed National Nude Day, and skin exposure laws, and personal boundaries, and whether the view from nearby properties was blocked. As secular Americans with ages from mid-thirties to early forties, these people had begun adulthood (from a few years on either side of the millennium) with views on sex that were tolerant and flexible. Their experiences since then had taken them further in that direction.

They agreed that none of them would be triggered, or offended, or excessively aroused, by a departure from a social norm.

Thus, four of the women removed the tops of their swimwear, then settled again into their basking, swimming, and chatting. The men were calm and respectful, or managed to act that way.

Two men then removed their t-shirts, after jocular warnings that what they revealed would not be esthetically pleasing.

While rubbing sunblock on her breasts, Muriel said, "There's this claim by nudists, that once you spend time naked with other naked people, you get used to it, and don't stare." She stretched her areolae to get full coverage. "Does that actually happen?"

"It wouldn't for me," said Stan. "I've spent decades hoping to see through the clothes that hide female bodies. I have too much catching up to do."

"You're welcome," said Muriel, twisting her trunk to give him a view of both nates. The mild tan of her neck and arms contrasted so strongly with the revealed alabaster, that her breasts looked even larger than they were.

Stan smiled her way, with a sigh that relaxed his whole body in the chaise lounge. "The sight hasn't turned me into a ravening sex fiend. It simply makes me happy."

"Would that have been true when you were young?" asked Conrad. "When the hormones zoomed through your blood stream?"

Stan side-eyed him. "I'm pretty sure I was like most horny teen boys. Insane for girls, but mostly internalizing. With, um, the occasional need to let a certain substance go external. In private, you understand."

Estelle thumbed the straps of her one-piece to pull them off her shoulders. She shoved the fabric down to waist level, raising the total of exposed female breasts to ten. "This is different," she said. "Not one set of boobs, but several. So, after Stan has his simple happiness, he'll compare and contrast. And so will the rest of us." She fingered her nipples, to overcome their compression from her suit. "I see some pairs that I envy. But as a grown-ass woman, I should be able to get over that." Her height gave her a long torso. This, combined with moderate bulk, spared her breasts from sag, so far.

Conrad announced, "I propose that all female breasts here, exposed or not, be declared as meritorious, and welcome to find whatever comfort the breast-havers would prefer. Regardless of size, shape, or other features. All those in favor?"

In the uprush of "Ayes," most of the voices sounded male.

From a chaise lounge, still-covered Donna leaned towards topfree Angie, and said, loudly enough to carry to the whole group, "What a well-trained load of husbands."

Two lounges over, Angie replied, "How stupid would a guy have to be, to let his desire for look-tits endanger his access to the feel-tits that are in his bed every night?"

There was general mild laughter.

"Stupid, but common," said Stan. "Hence, divorces."

Cora reached over and patted his hand. "Your simple happiness isn't enough for me to take you to court," she said in mock-reassurance. "If your happiness becomes complex, then maybe." She hadn't exposed her breasts, and made no move to do so now.

Muriel stood and stretched, then strolled towards the steps into the pool. "So what we're doing now is, technically, legal every day in this state. Above-the-hips exposure by any adult, regardless of gender. Would this even count as a Nude Day activity?"

"Maybe in a public setting where men would be discouraged from baring their guy tits," said Angie. "The law is squishy on the details."

"Nude Day below the waist," said June, "would at least balance out the staring. Guys may enjoy staring at women, but might worry as women stare at men."

Alex said, "Like Estelle said, I think we're old enough now to ignore that."

"Maybe," said June, "but it seems like guys think a nude beach would be great, and then find out that they're the ones being compared."

"If they can't thrive, they should stay home!" Conrad asserted. "Nude means nude. Generative organs in full view. None of this clothing-optional cowardice. An exemption for the soles of the feet."

"Are you willing to get arrested," said Donna, "to uphold that principle?" She was getting annoyed with Conrad, as she so often did. He was a co-worker of several people here, and got invited to events such as these, despite the edgy personality that could explain his lack of a relationship.

Conrad shook his head. "False equivalence. A male flasher is presumed by everyone to have evil intent, extending all the way to sexual abuse. The worst anyone would think about a female flasher would be in a range between attention-getting for money, and mental illness."

"Here, we're not in public," said June, pouring herself a glass of iced tea. "And I'm only letting the girls out now, to relax and breathe, because this is private. Did we all agree that there's no picture-taking now?" Her breasts were small and separated, but jiggled when she moved.

There was a general mumble of assent, during which two phones on side tables were stowed away.

Sitting on the lip of the pool, Frieda stretched her arms over her head, smiling up at the sun and elevating her freed breasts towards it. "It's nice we can do this without worry, but I actually got a kick out of skinny dipping, back when we might get punished. The great thing was, sometimes I only had to show my breasts. It was exciting and naughty, but I could keep my down-there covered. And it didn't matter that I was a late bloomer. Any tits got all the boys staring."

"Seems like your blooming finished just fine," said Angie. Then she looked around and added, "Dudes, you all wanted to say that, didn't you? I kept you out of trouble."

"Thanks, Ange," said Roy. "I'll get you a gift card from a checkout counter."

"Paid for out of our joint account," snarked Angie, angling for a group laugh, and getting it.

"So, Frieda," said June, "would you do more than show yours off in private?"

"I don't know. The whole Nude Day thing might be too much. But I like the audience here." Grinning, she turned towards Stan and shook her sunlit blossoms. Hers were even larger than Muriel's, and in the early stages of Cooper's Droop.

Donna said, "The peer pressure is getting to me. Stay dressed? Expose the bosom? I can't decide." She pulled down one shoulder strap, and exposed her left breast only.

Within a group laugh, Angie chuckled, conceding to Donna a point in their long-running game of 'Who's funnier?' Alex, Donna's husband and a loyal member of Team Donna, said, "Thank God! Exposing the right one would be scandalous." Donna showed no tan lines, suggesting what she did in her own back yard.

Cora said, "Donna just made the point of how silly it is, obsessing about naked breasts."

Hank, leaning forward in a chair that gave him a good angle for three of the full exposees, said, "I don't obsess. I settle for seeing one, if two aren't available."

"If it's all in fun," said Frieda, "There's no harm."

"What about Mardi Gras?" Hank asked Frieda. "Would you flash just to get some beads from a balcony?"

That surprised Frieda into silence.

Roy looked at Angie, and chuckled. Not at all subtly.

"Bastard," said Angie at him. To everyone: "I did that once. With maybe five other women in about a ten-foot radius. Thing is, pretty soon you're draped with so many beads that nobody can see tits anymore." With her lounge halfway reclined, her moderate breasts spread towards her armpits.

"How about Key West?" Hank pressed. "Body paint?"

"We've never been there," said Roy with regret.

"Anyone who's really committed," Conrad said, "Goes to Carnival, in Rio de Janeiro."

"Committed is right!" said Donna. "An asylum is definitely the place for any woman who cavorts in her birthday suit with ten pounds of feathers sprouting from her head!"

More laughs. Donna was on a roll.

Cora said, "I breast-fed in public. Back then, there were complaints about women who did that, even if they had a blanket or something, to cover up. Pretty soon, though, even the supposedly conservative critics were shamed for not recognizing this as a family value. I mean, babies and mother's milk, in a world where it wasn't reasonable for a nursing woman to stay at home all the time. I think that's how this started, detoxifying the exposure of female breasts." Cora, the oldest woman present, still made no move to expose hers, in this gathering of adults only.

"That's fine, if skin is really just skin," said Estelle. "Lately, though, I've had more to think about. For me, this is no longer the world my mother described when I was a teen. She said men go nuts over breasts, and women couldn't care less about what men want to do with them. Her advice was to smile and wait for it to be over."

She said no more. There was silence, with everyone waiting for her to continue.

Finally Angie said, "Are you just going to leave that hanging?" She lifted her breasts. "Like these?"

The group chuckle didn't last long.

Estelle looked flustered. "Sorry, I said too much."

"Mitch hasn't said anything," said Donna about Estelle's husband, "but the look on his face seems to go beyond simple happiness."

Estelle said, "We all try new things, sometimes. Right? In the bedroom."

Several people nodded in agreement.

"I've read things. On the internet. Nothing weird or nasty. Um, there's been a lot lately about breast sensitivity, and how that could feel, um, really good. For the woman, not just the man."

"Omigod," said Angie in a half-gasp. "Have you had nipple orgasms?"

Estelle said quietly, "I guess that's what they are."

There were whoops and applause, which didn't make Estelle feel any better. Her face and breasts reddened, long before the sun could cause that.

From the middle of the pool, Muriel said, "That's a petite thing, isn't it? Buxoms don't respond that way. Or so I've read." She stood tall, and arched her back, emphasizing the abundance high on her rib cage. "So why are you envying me?"

Estelle smiled shyly. "This is a new thing. My envy has been going on for years. And I've read that this can work for big breasts too, it just needs the right effort."

"Ewww!" said Casey, the youngest woman present. "Is this that thing with binder clips?"

"They're not necessary," said Estelle, still with the shy smile.

Alex grinned at Donna. "Looks like we have homework!"

Conrad eagerly resumed pontificating. "So we may now enter an era of waist-up cheating. Must a husband who satisfies his wife, with traditional copulation, now worry about whether he isn't pleasing her breasts? Will wives now seek out strange men to make their bosoms climax?"

"Jeez, Conrad," said Stan, "you're always with the worst case. Why couldn't a couple agree to let her sample the boob-lapping of other men? The bottom line is, if the wife isn't lining her bottom with sperm that didn't come from her husband, just lighten up about all other kinds of fun."

Cora smirked at her husband. "When did you become an expert on infidelity?"

His look to her was, for him, serious. "Just theorizing."

Angie asked the whole group, "So what should I be looking for, in a side piece for my tits? Sensitive fingers? Thick lips? A nimble tongue?"

"Don't be so eager!" said Roy, a bit on edge, even knowing that his wife was kidding. "Isn't it only fair to give a husband the first opportunity to provide this service?"

"All those in favor," began Conrad.

"It's a personal choice," Muriel interrupted. "Any vote you take has no effect."

Some may have noted silently that Muriel was divorced, and had arrived here alone.

Angie asked, "Stan, is your pleasure still simple?"

This group sound was mostly "Woah!" Muriel snickered.

Donna asked, "Are the coals ready yet?" Her tone was jokey, but it reflected what might have become general discomfort with the topic.

Hugh, silent this whole time, stood and said, "Maybe," and headed for the grill.

June rose and followed her husband, then moved past him to the kitchen door. Her jiggle prevented the subject from being changed.

"We don't appreciate how lucky we are," said Casey, still wearing all of her string bikini. "In much of the world, women can't even show their hair in public, let alone what we're flaunting. And then there are all of the other freedoms those women don't have."

"I'd say that those freedoms matter more than flashing for beads," said Cora. "Some of you have decided that your freedom means dropping your tops. My freedom is deciding not to do that, now, here. When I breast-fed in public, I decided that the health of my daughter was more important than society's opinion about decency and exposure." A moment later she added, "Do I have to say that, twenty years later, what I see in the mirror isn't something I'm eager to uncover?"

"That's a reasonable choice," called June, setting a tray of foodstuffs on the table next to the grill. "I've stopped caring about how mine look, and think only about their health and comfort."

Hank called towards the grill, "Hugh, have you stopped caring how they look?"

"I care about what she cares about," said Hugh, with a smile towards his wife.

"That's the best husband reflex yet," said Angie.

Muriel climbed the steps to emerge from the pool. As she did, she scanned the bosoms of those women who had exposed them. "I don't see any pierced nipples here. The only ink is on Angie, and--what are they?"

"Doves," said Angie. She sat up straighter, and handled each breast from the side, to raise it. This made it a little easier to see that what she had below each areola was a bird in profile, with them facing in a mirror image.

"What we're doing here is tame," said Muriel. "Everyone under thirty would think we're a bunch of scared rabbits. I've never sexted. Anyone else?"

After about three seconds of silence, Donna said, "You're asking married people if they've created evidence against themselves?"

"I have sexted," said Conrad. "Every time, I offered to one person, and if that person declared enthusiastic consent, I sent nude photos of myself, with my face visible."

Frieda said, "I could see that. You're kinda hot, and lean, so almost any pecker would look good with that."

"You could 'see' that?" said Angie. "Don't encourage him!"

Frieda shrugged. "I'm just talking about the visual." She worked one cubicle away from Conrad, and gave him a teasing smile he'd seen many times. "The recipient might be very happy with Conrad, until he opens his mouth."

There was enough laughter to ease Conrad down to an amused head-shake. Frieda was probably the only person from whom he'd accept that kind of needling.

Then Alex said, "So the world is changing, and making us irrelevant? The generation after sexting will go nude everywhere?"

"Oh, absolutely," said Cora, "because sexual assault will magically cease to exist."

"And bible-thumpers will give up," said Roy, "and the world's strictest religions will stop caring."

"I'll just be happy with what we can do, here and now," said Estelle. "The sun feels very nice."

"Mitch," said Stan, "if you helped adjust her attitude, I owe you big-time."

While Cora rolled her eyes, Mitch grinned. "I'll settle for a gift card from a checkout counter."

"You got it!" said Stan, amid group snickering.

"Grill's ready," called Hugh. "Come pick out what you want on it."

The guests moved to hover around the grill, and the table with store-bought add-ons like potato salad. This tended to clump people into smaller groups, sharing brief chats while passing around mustard and reaching for napkins.

Three men approached Mitch. Four women approached Estelle. They spoke quietly, and what they said was easily drowned out by Conrad's statements about professional golf.

Off to one side, however, Hank and Casey were in a discussion of their own. When Conrad was taking a breath, Casey's voice was audible, and apparently testy, when she said to her husband, "I think I'm already showing a whole lot."

Several people looked their way, clearly having heard that. None said anything.

The afternoon gave way to evening, and on the whole, everyone present had a good time. As dusk colored the sky, those who had gone topfree decided that comfort now encouraged them to cover themselves.

Women began helping June with the cleanup, and the men were quickly shamed into helping as well.

Later, getting ready to leave, Donna and Alex made use of bathrooms in different parts of the house. Then they met up at the patio for their goodbyes to hosts and other guests. Because of where their car was parked, they then cut through the house to get to the front door.

As they passed a closed bedroom, they saw Mitch standing alone.

"G'night folks," said Mitch, maybe too quickly. "Take care."

Alex gave him a glance. "Waiting for somebody?"

"Estelle's getting dressed," said Mitch. He waved, maybe hoping this would send the couple on their way.

There were murmurs from the other side of the door.

Donna pointedly asked Alex, "Did that sound like Estelle's voice?"

There were more murmurs.

"Nothing to see here," said Mitch with a grin, again waving.

Donna leaned to see out through the living room picture window. "Muriel's car is still here."

"Mitch," asked Alex, "is this none of our business?"

"I'd say so," said Mitch, too nervous to be smug.

"Let's go, Honey," said Donna to her husband. "Tonight you can start your homework on my right one, since I saved it for you alone."