Car Show Slut Ch 03

I awoke on Sunday morning, hung over, but feeling good. I felt, well, I felt alive. What had gotten into me? My mind trawled through the events of the previous night. Did I really show myself off to Roger like that? Had I really done THAT? Yes, you had. And I liked it. And he was never going to tell, I could be sure of that, so it was going to be our little secret. I doubted he would even tell any of his buddies – that look of fear in his eyes as he worried about Wendy waking up; he wanted to see me, wanted it desperately, but if she ever found out, his world was going to cave in. That thought gave me a feeling of security, even power. Did I feel any guilt? I did, but the thrill of exposing myself like that felt just so good!

It was going to be a hot day. I had nothing planned. Why not spend a few hours at the beach? Take that Dan Brown thriller, lie on the beach and read, swim a bit – the perfect hangover cure.

And why not go to that topless beach?

Such an idea would have seemed unthinkable to me a week or so ago. But I had so much enjoyed being looked at lately. And men would be looking at me at the beach; they would see my naked boobs. Yes, do it. Under your dark glasses and cap you'll just be another anonymous topless beach babe. Topless beach babe. I liked that. I grabbed my things and got ready to go.

The beach was about eight miles out of town. I parked the BMW and made my way down to the beach. It was fairly secluded, but fairly popular all the same. I found myself a nice spot about three-quarters the way down the beachside, where it was less crowded. There were groups of people here and there, but it was interesting to see the amount of women there bathing alone, just lying there soaking up the sun. Just like me.

I pulled my little summer dress over my head and spread out my towel. I was wearing my black two-piece, a swim suit I had previously considered on the verge of risqué, but here amongst the tiny thongs and tops, my suit looked positively Victorian era. Some of the women were wearing bikini tops – most of which were little string affairs, so small they covered little more than their nipples – but the majority were topless. Feeling a little self conscious, I decided to keep mine on for a while. I just lay there on my back and relaxed, watching and listening to the surf as the waves gently tumbled onto the sand.

After about half an hour I rolled over onto my stomach. Settling down into the soft sand, I undid the string of my bikini top and let it fall against the towel. I grabbed the book out of my backpack. The sun was getting hotter. As I reached into the bag to get the tanning lotion, I noticed a guy down on the shoreline heading up towards me. Looking around, I realized there was no one else nearby. As he approached it was clear– that he was coming up to see me!

"Hi – Anne, isn't it?" he said. He definitely looked familiar, though I couldn't immediately put a name to the face. I was mortified that someone I knew had spotted me. But who was it?

"It's Ron, Ron Jackson – from Wallgrove-Fordham?" he said as he took off his sun glasses. Oh God, I thought, as I suddenly recognized him and remembered the name - it's the new rep I had the meeting with last week. How could he have recognized me from so far off? My backpack bearing the company logo in a large emblem might have been some clue, I realized, looking at the pack beside me. And he's seeing me like this!

"Oh, hi Ron," I said, pushing my chest into the sand to hide my bare boobs as I lifted my arm to shake his hand, wishing I could just disappear into the sand.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said.

"Hmm," I said, trying to remain composed. It was distinctly disconcerting to me that a business acquaintance could see me in such a state of near nakedness, even if we weren't in working hours. Maybe the beach wasn't such a great idea after all. "It was a nice day for the beach so I thought I'd catch a few hours of sun."

"Yes, it's a lovely day," he said. "I'm down here with my wife and kids – they're down the other end. Just out for a beach stroll. Mind if I just rest up here for a few minutes?"

Well, I could hardly say no. He sat down on my left and I turned my head towards him as we continued chatting. I couldn't see his eyes under his dark glasses, but by his body language it was fairly clear he was discreetly checking out my body. I moved my left arm down alongside my chest to cover my partially exposed boob.

We talked about work, the challenges he faced in his new position. Meanwhile under the hot sun, the skin on my shoulders was burning. I reached for the lotion and undid the cap, reaching back to rub some into my shoulders. With all the yoga I do, my upper back is rather flexible – I could easily apply the oil without having to lift my body and expose myself. But then Ron reached across and grabbed the bottle.

"Allow me," he said.

"No, it's OK, I can do it." I had nothing against Ron – he seemed nice enough – but I didn't want a professional colleague rubbing oil over my naked back!

He kept hold of the bottle – a little presumptuous, I thought to myself.

"It's no problem, Anne, just relax. It'll be my pleasure."

I relented, releasing my grasp on the bottle. His pleasure indeed, I thought to myself as I watched him squeeze some oil from the plastic bottle. The chance to rub his hands up and down the near naked female body of one of his work associates – I bet he can't believe his luck. Well, I thought to myself, you need some lotion on your back, and when all is said and done, this guy is a client of mine – it wouldn't pay to create a scene, even out of work hours. And the guy's wife was just nearby, so he was hardly likely to try anything.

I rested back. I felt him drip the oil onto my lower back. Then I felt the touch of his palms as he massaged the oil into my skin. Pushing up along either side of my spine, it felt rather soothing as his thumbs worked into the muscles on my back. Soon he was rubbing me along my entire back, from the top of my bikini bottom up to my shoulders. Then he gently massaged the oil into my shoulders, slowly, and down my arms to my elbows. And massage was what this was – the guy was not simply rubbing suntan lotion into my skin, he was massaging me! Ron was giving me a slow, sensual massage. And I was enjoying it. He did have a wonderful touch; not too hard, but firm enough to get into the muscles. The feeling of his hands, the slick oil and the hot sun on my skin was very nice. Very nice. I felt his hands stray lightly along my upper sides, close to my breasts flattened against the towel. Rubbing the oil into my sides, his hands and his fingers briefly ran down along the very outer edges of the curves my breasts. I felt slightly panicked. But it felt so good! As he continued it occurred to me how long it had been since a man had touched my skin like this. Too long.

Then he stopped. I lay there almost dreamily as he put the cap back on the bottle, but awake enough to castigate myself over the fact that I was almost disappointed he had stopped.

"All done," he said. "Shall I do your legs too?"

My legs? I don't think so, I thought. Not my legs.

"No, it's OK, they're fine – but shouldn't you be getting back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a few more minutes," he said, as I heard the cap come off the bottle again. "And you'll be done in a flash."

Before I could respond I felt the oil being poured all over my legs. It felt like he'd emptied half the bottle. Oh, well, I thought, just grin and bear it. In any case, it did feel oh so good as his hand clasped firmly around the lower calf muscle of my right leg, sliding up to my knee and back down again. He kept going, up and down, developing a rhythm until I felt my leg begin to heat up through the friction of his hand and the excess oil being squeezed away under the pressure he was applying. He was pushing his fingers firmly into my calf muscles, just like a professional masseur. It felt very nice, but it was embarrassing, mortifying that he could see me like this, because I knew he must have been getting a great view of my ass and legs, along with the fact that he was feeling my legs. Oh yes, he was thoroughly enjoying this; I could almost sense it through the slow, sensuous movement of his hands. But so too, I had to admit, I was enjoying. I was loving it despite myself.

He moved to the other leg, giving it the same treatment. So good! Then, rubbing his thumbs firmly across the back of my legs under the knee, he progressed to my thigh. Using both hands now, he rubbed firmly up and down, one hand down on my inner thigh, the other around the outer, his thumbs meeting in the middle. He was massaging the oil into my thighs hard and slow, his upper strokes reaching a few inches below my bikini bottoms. With each stroke he got closer, closer. Inexorably, the sensation of his firm touch was going straight to my pussy. I tried hard to put it out of my mind that this was a client that was doing this to me. But try as I might, instead I just further surrendered to the feeling in my body. Oh God, I was getting turned on!

Then he switched to the other leg. My left thigh now luxuriated under the same treatment. As his hands reached higher and higher I felt my pussy begin to throb. Oh yes, this was turning me on. I was getting wet. I prayed it didn't show, or that he couldn't smell my arousal!

My body suddenly stiffened as his hand ran right up my inner thigh, to the very top of my leg. His hand grazed my ass. It was then I suddenly realized to my shame that my legs were opened more than I had thought. Now he had one hand gently caressing the outside of my upper thigh while the other continued to rub my inner thigh. Only now, though, he had stopped the long strokes along my entire thigh. His fingers were rubbing the tops of my inner thigh and around my ass cheek. I was getting lost in the sensations now; I almost didn't care who he was, I wanted to be touched. I lay there as he rubbed my leg, softly now, maybe less than half an inch away from my now swollen, throbbing lips. Please, a voice inside me said, please touch me!

He kept at it for another agonizing half minute or so, his fingers so close yet so far away. I was almost willing him to do it. I found myself letting out a slight moan, but it embarrassed me so that I quickly stifled it.

I could barely stand it. As his finger moved up along my thigh, I couldn't help myself. I pushed myself down the towel, towards him, if only by an inch or so. My movement would have been barely discernible, but it was enough. His finger hit the spot. I felt his fingers contact against my pussy lips through the material of my suit. Yes, that's it... Then his fingers snaked underneath me. Far from trying to stop this work associate from feeling me up, I actually wiggled my ass on the towel to aid his access. How shameful. He now knew I wanted it. He took the hint. His hand slid under me to cup my pussy. I felt the top of his middle finger reaching for my clit. Ooh... I lifted myself a little higher, helping him. He began to rub his fingers up and down my outer lips. Ooh, yes! Then I felt a finger slide inside the elastic of my bikini. Oh no, he's going to...

Then in a flash his withdrew his hand.

"Anne I think I'd better be going," he said as my mind tried to understand what and why, my skin aching for the touch that had been suddenly taken away. "I'll see you later."

And with that he was off, heading quickly back down the beach. What, I thought? What was that all about? Then I saw. A few hundred yards down the beach, there was Ron meeting up with a woman and a couple of kids. He'd obviously seen them coming.

Disappointed, even frustrated now, I slumped back on the towel on my back. God, that had felt good. I'd have cum against his hand had he kept that up much longer! But with a work associate? Letting yourself get felt up by someone from your business life, on a public beach? It was so wrong. But then a lot of wrong things seemed to be happening to me lately. Just as I seem to be horny most of the time these days. I laid back, not caring that my boobs were exposed now, and idly let my legs fall open in a comfortable position. My nipples were hard from all the attention. What a sight I would present to any guy walking past right now. I near naked chick, legs spread, nipples hard, pussy wet... I laid there contemplating that, too turned on to return to my book. I laid there resting back on my elbows, so that I could watch the people walking past. And all the men that came by looked up at me, up at my bare tits on display between the arch of my opened legs.

With the sun beating down I was just getting hotter and hotter. Time for a dip. I stood up and strode down to the water, passing a man and a woman walking along the beach. I hadn't bothered putting my top back on, and my naked boobs gently bounced up and down as I walked. It was the first time I'd ever exposed myself outside in public like this. I watched as the guy checked out my tits, his wife looking away. She didn't approve.

The water on my body felt exhilarating, sensual. The cooling liquid flowing over my body, the sound of the waves and sea birds overhead, the hot sun. I felt quenched, somehow more connected to the natural world. I swum for about half an hour before black clouds appeared from the horizon to signal an impending storm. Time soon to go home.

Back at the flat, I headed for the shower. I looked at my naked body in the mirror. I could see that I'd got a little bit burned. Good thing I wasn't wearing a top, I thought – wouldn't want to have tan lines showing under my car show outfit! God, girl, listen to yourself – you're starting to sound like a real car show model!

Looking in the mirror, I liked what I saw. I had never previously thought much of my body; I knew I was in pretty good shape but I never seriously thought of myself as anything all that special. But now my body looked good. I looked sexy. I felt sexy. I looked at my pussy. Look at all that hair. I wonder what it would look like without all that growth? How would it feel to have no hair down there? It would feel so smooth. I bet it would feel good. And so many girls are doing it these days. Shaving their pussies. Shave it – shave your pussy. Such a simple thing, but it felt just a little bit naughty just thinking of it. I would do it. I grabbed the scissors and started cutting the longer strands until it was short enough for the razor I used for my legs. When the job was done I showered and toweled off.

It was raining now. The storm was on the far horizon, the sky lighting up occasionally to the odd flash of lightning in the distance, but it was still raining solidly. I walked out onto the balcony to watch the light show in the dark sky. The wind was lashing against the building, the rain hitting the building at a severe angle. I was getting wet. The night was still warm and the rain and the wind felt invigorating on my skin. I thought about being in the water at the beach. I undid my robe and let it fall to the floor. I stepped forward, close to the balcony railing and let the rain hit against my naked body. My shaved pussy. I stood there for some time, getting wetter and wetter as little rivers of water started rolling down my face, my arms, my boobs, my legs, until I felt completely immersed. In the building opposite some lights were on. People were home, but I could see no one. The wind dropped and soon the rain stopped. I went back inside, dried myself and climbed into bed.

Monday morning on the way to work I checked in at my post office box. The modeling outfits from Jem had arrived. Inside the box were two parcels. I left one in the car and took the other into work with me to give to Kelly.

"Kelly, here it is – don't open it till you leave the office," I almost whispered to her as I placed the parcel on her desk. The flash of her eyes showed me she was excited, like she'd just been given a birthday present.

So too was I excited. Well, it was a nervous excitement, but I was dying to see what we would be wearing. And it was just tomorrow night, one day away! And I would get to see that hot guy Jem again...

And I was like a kid with a new present when I got home, that night, I had to admit. I ripped open the parcel. It was a short little off-white dress, with just a hint of blue. There was a dark blue stripe up the left side, with the company's logo on across it, over the breast. It zipped up at the front. The material was a kind of stretchy lycra, only thicker, like a very thin wetsuit. I stripped off my work clothes and tried it on. It fitted perfectly. The stretchy material felt very nice against my skin, and it hugged all my curves just right. The material also nicely supported my braless boobs, even without an inner lining. And the dress wasn't as short as I thought; round about half way down my thigh.

Then I spotted a small note in the opened parcel: Wear either white running shoes or white pumps – but both girls must wear the same.

Better call Kelly, see what she wants to wear.

"Hi Kelly, it's Anne. Have you opened your outfit?"

"Yeah, isn't it great!" she giggled. "I've got it on now. How does yours look?"

"It looks pretty nice," I said. "It even feels good. So what do you think, runners or pumps?"

"Runners. It's kind of like a tennis outfit."

"OK, runners it is."

This was going to be fun, I thought to myself. The outfit's fine – it really was a bit like a tennis outfit. Not slutty at all.

Just then the door bell rang. Ah, I suddenly remembered, that'll be the pizza I ordered on the way home in the car. I looked into the closed circuit security TV screen on the wall. It was the pizza guy. I pushed the button and let him into the building. I'd been half way to stepping out of my new model uniform when the pizza boy buzzed, so I quickly zipped it back up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that the zipper was the cleavage controller in this outfit. You could pull it way down and expose, well, pretty much everything, or take it almost right up to your neck. The door bell rang; the pizza guy had reached my floor. I looked in the mirror and tossed my long hair back with a flick of my head and I reefed down the zipper to below the line of my boobs. I'll give the poor boy a bit of a thrill.

I opened the door, took the pizza and handed him the money. He kept looking up at me as he fumbled for the change. I wasn't showing off that much, but with the zipper down like it was my boobs were practically spilling out of the dress. He was struggling between finding the right coins and getting an eyeful of my cleavage, and then he dropped them all over the floor. We both bent down to collect them, but I got most of money. He just seemed to squat there in a daze. I glanced down at my chest; my left boob was pretty much out there in the open. My nipple pressing against the fabric was about the only part that was hidden from view. He collected himself, said 'enjoy your pizza, Ma'am', and scurried off.

Tuesday morning dawned. I had gone to bed early, and slept soundly. I felt great. Stepping out of bed, I didn't even bother putting on any clothes for my morning yoga. I greeted the new day completely naked, my newly shaved pussy on display before the entire world. Only there wasn't anyone about. I went through my routine. It felt liberating, so natural to be doing my yoga poses like this. And the balcony was reasonably secluded, I thought, glancing up to the rows of apartments opposite. Well...

Tuesday at work was meetings, meeting and more meetings. Meetings seem to be the way of this line of work, but most of the time they don't produce any kind of useful outcome. This was one of those kind of days. By mid afternoon in the midst of another drone session from some consultants the firm had hired, I almost found myself drifting off. But wearing a g-string, as I tended to do most days now, it wasn't that comfortable sitting down for long periods. Nevertheless I couldn't help by zone out, but every now and then feeling a tinge of excitement flood through my veins at the thought of what I would be doing in a few hours time.