I was not sure exactly when the transformation had occurred. I could only see that my wife was different. As I looked at her now, I was as turned on by her more than I had ever been. My wife's physique had reverted to when we had dated, but it now was more muscular. Hayley had shed some pounds, yes, but she had shed even more inhibitions. As she turned for me, modeling her outfit, I marveled at Hayley's body and her style of dress.
Her feet were in heeled shoes, not high heeled shoes, but anything with heels was cause for notice. The discomfort of wearing heels must obviously be worth the result she (we?) expected. She wore black leather shoes, consisting of a few strings leaving her feet mostly exposed. Her legs were tan. Really tan. Up until the last several months, the only good tan I could recall was back when we were dating, over 14 years ago. Her legs weren't skinny, but not fat either. They had muscle definition that spoke of strength underneath. With the heels on, her calves begged for attention from the first casual glance.
Her thighs held the same tan, until finally, just below her crotch, a tight, black stretch miniskirt encased her hips. It was like the miniskirt was painted on her buns and the sides of her hips, but the taught cavity across the front of her legs left no doubt that this was a skirt.
Hayley's waist, well, she had never really had an hourglass figure. She did now. She wore a black bustier, with see through mesh from her skirt up to the black satin that covered her breasts. Well, sort of covered her breasts. The satin went just above her aureole, where it ran straight across her chest. She had invested in the bustier, hiring a seamstress who specialized in costumes for strippers. The garment tailored for her breasts, lifting them slightly to form the classic profile of perfect breasts. More importantly, it was comfortable, which meant that it would not remain in the novelty drawer... It only slightly accentuated her cleavage. Looking up the line of her profile up past her flat stomach, my wife's breasts seemed to spring from her chest, saying "Here we are!" My cock sprang to answer, "I know!"
The same seamstress had tailored an ocean blue jacket to also accentuate her waistline, and since it was going to be a cool night, it would provide good cover. Hayley had lightened her hair, and it was pulled back behind her ears before falling to below her shoulders. She had spent a small fortune in Buckhead getting her hair styled by someone highly recommended. We were both very pleased with it.
My wife lifted the jacket off the chair, walked to the door, and said, "See you there" and stepped out into the night.
This evening was a major turn in our lives. Hayley had showed not just courage, but no fear as she had left the house. From a long history of low self-esteem and lack of confidence about her looks, she was now on the opposite extreme, confident of herself, her body, and its attractive pull on men.
As I thought back on it, I realized that this change had started over a year and half ago. Years of promising to diet had always yielded to appetizing food. One day, Hayley had surprised me, and said, "You know, if you take me on another cruise to the Caribbean, I'll go topless on one of those French beaches." One of my biggest fantasies was to imagine myself lying in a lounge chair or a beach towel, perhaps 40 yards from the beach, and to watch my wife rise, topless and wearing a g-string bikini, and walk into the water to cool herself off. From the back, she would look practically naked. The beach, of course, would be inhabited, and this would be in plain view of everyone. It didn't matter that they might be from a different culture and similarly undressed. Her return trip from the water, wet, with hardened nipples, head held high, was what really made my cock hard.
It was approximately 7 months later that I had received a large bonus from work. It was enough to pay off some debt and still afford a cruise. I brought home several brochures from cruise companies, but we already had in mind the cruise line we liked. It had been a matter of finding the right stops, and particularly for me, the right beach. With a little additional research on the Internet, I had found several islands that had topless beaches. We weren't really interested in the nude beaches.
My wife's promise had been that she would be in shape for this cruise, so we had picked a cruise approximately eight months later. I had also received a raise, so it was within our budget that we could again afford membership in a fitness club. A club had recently opened near our home, and we both realized that if it wasn't convenient, we wouldn't use it. This club had all the major equipment plus an aerobics program. Further, the club provided a personal trainer to at least develop a personal training schedule based on the desired outcome.
Hayley had explained to the female instructor that we were going on a cruise. She not only wanted to lose weight, she wanted to look absolutely in shape and sexy. The lady had inspired confidence, as her own figure was excellent. The lady told her that gains could be made in eight months, but if she really wanted to look different, it would be a daily commitment of proper dieting and a mixed schedule of rigorous aerobic exercise and weight training. For an additional fee, we had hired the lady to personally supervise my wife's exercise and to hold her accountable to the program.
I went the lighter route, but had managed to trim off the pudge in my stomach and add more definition to my arms, legs, and stomach. Not bad considering my work schedule that required out of town travel.
My wife, on the other hand, had gone full speed ahead into the program, figuring this was her best and possibly last chance to look great before age made it too difficult. So she had dedicated herself to it, and the program worked. Our sex life began to sizzle as we both got in shape. A couple weeks before the cruise, Hayley was able to buy dresses two sizes smaller than when she began as well as new bathing suits. I usually liked to watch her try on these types of things, but she insisted that that her new clothes be a surprise for the cruise.
The cruise was fantastic. I was utterly amazed at how Hayley had dressed, changing from the shorts and T-shirt routine at home to a classy, sexy lady on board during the evening and a teasing, skimpily clad woman during the excursions. This wonderful vision was possible because Hayley had changed other parts of her life. Rather than shopping by store names, she had looked for salespeople who looked really good in what they wore. If they had time to help her, then she would stay in the store and explore dress possibilities that previously, well, she probably would have ignored or assumed would not work for her. As a result, she tried different colors and different cuts, and found herself choosing a fair amount of clothes intended for teenagers or young adults. The clothes she purchased were not immediately provocative, but I liked what I saw, as her clothes more than hinted at the attributes of the sexy body beneath.
For swimsuits, well, she hadn't shopped for suits to wear to the neighborhood pool. She had purchased outfits that captured my attention, and, frankly, everyone's. She ended up shopping from catalogs and tanning salon type stores as she stocked some of the wilder suits. She bought a nice one-piece conservative suit that she liked and that would be good around familiar friends. But otherwise, it was bikinis, something she hadn't worn since she was in college. She had always liked suits that came high on her hips. Only now, she was also choosing bottoms that barely rose above her pubic area. It had required some shaving.
And the bikini tops she had chosen, well, she never would have worn them around any of our friends. The tops held the smallest amount of fabric possible and were fastened by little more than strings. Her breasts hid beneath fabric that gave the apparent potential of falling off given the mildest casual upset. I was really excited about Hayley wearing bikinis. With the weight loss and the muscle that now rippled at her stomach, combined with skimpy suits, my wife looked absolutely breathtaking. And besides, there really weren't many of our age group who could still wear bikinis. I was pleased that my wife could.
It was four days into our cruise that we arrived at our selected island. Unlike our previous cruise 10 years earlier, our table included couples of almost the same ages and in the same life stages. While the group was fun, both Hayley and I had been mindful that the new Hayley blew away these women both in physique and dress. This was most obvious by the way the men had admired my wife while at the beach, by the pool, and even in her more formal dresses during dinner. It was a great group, and we enjoyed doing things together. It was, therefore, a difficult matter of tact when it came to revealing that we had private plans for the next port of call. We had only offered vague descriptions of where we were going. Hayley mentioned the name of the beach to one of the wives, and said only that she and I had heard about it from others (she didn't say on the Internet!) and wanted to check it out.
And so we did. We hired a taxi, which took us to the beach. It was only a short walk down the beach to the nearest stores where we would either find or could call a return taxi. The beach was beautiful. It had virgin white sand that gradually slipped under the clear blue water. These islands were curious in that the beaches were only a couple of hundred yards each, separated by rocks or a sharp curve in the shoreline, and given different names. This certainly was not a beach frequented by the cruise travelers, but the beach was gradually filling with people who stayed in the nearby villas along the beach.
"Well, my sexy wife, here we are. If you want to back out, I will understand. But, I want you to know that I think you're absolutely beautiful, and the vision of you on this beach with only your g-string would be a memory I would never forget."
Hayley didn't say anything. She walked to the middle of the stretch of beach and laid out her towel and set her bag down. I was just laying down on my towel when she asked me to put suntan oil on. She removed her beach cover, and was wearing a string bikini, with g-string bottom. She already had a good base tan, but the oil was something different for her. She usually preferred, and had used so far during our trip, a high protection factor lotion. She laid on her stomach while I poured the oil on her back. Her body glistened in the sun. I rubbed it all over her back, her arms, her hips, legs, thighs, calves and feet. My erection quickly grew, thinking of both how she might look without her top and of how good her body felt while rubbing the oil in.
She turned over, and I began again, this time working from her feet up her body. The g-string bottom was white, and as the oil touched it, it turned almost transparent, but for some lining inside. Time to push the issue. "How about the breasts?" She looked to either side, saw no one in near proximity, and really, no one interested in our being there. She had sat up, and reminded me, "Topless is allowed on this beach. Remember that grabbing my breasts isn't socially acceptable." She reached behind her, stopped, and said, "Oh, why don't you do it for me?" I quickly found the right strings, pulled, and freed her breasts to the world. She laid down and said, "Well, are you going to look all day or are you going to rub oil in?" I quickly complied.
Covered in oil, she looked awesome. I had to sit up, both to keep an eye on her exposed breasts, and to somewhat conceal my stiff cock beneath my swimsuit. It was a self-defeating exercise. Hayley reached inside her bag for something and retrieved it. Finally, she stood, expanded her chest with a deep breath, relaxed, dropped a disposable camera in my lap, and started walking towards the ocean to cool herself in the water. I had difficulty trying to snap pictures and keep a clear view of my wife.
After she was in the water but just a minute, a waiter from the local beachside bar came. "You're Americans, aren't you?"
"Yes," I responded.
"Thought so. What can I get you to drink, mon?" I ordered a Margarita for myself and a Pina Colada for Hayley. Maybe a little alcohol would help her, but, hey, she was already past the major obstacle.
Hayley finally returned, and I understood how the waiter knew we were Americans. It was a topless beach, and Hayley was probably the only woman on it without tanned boobs. I thought it best not to tell her and snapped the remaining pictures as she returned to her towel, saving one last one for when she was lying on the towel. "Thanks, the camera was a great idea. If it weren't for the waiter coming over, I probably would have cum in my suit. You look stunning. Thank you."
"Well, we have all morning, so stare all you like. Just don't linger on others who walk by."
The waiter returned with the drinks. He was very slow in handing the drink to Hayley, looking her over from head to, well, cunt, with his eyes. "If there is anything I can get you, just let me know." He walked away. As he left, Hayley said, "For a topless beach, he sure seemed interested in my top!"
"Yeah, I think I can guess what he'd like to get you." I looked at my wife. She wasn't even blushing, having not shown her breasts to a man other than her doctor or husband in over 14 years. I looked her over. Her eyes were hidden behind her reflective sunglasses. Her nipples were pointed, from the cold of the water or from the attention, I couldn't tell. Her bikini bottom was, well, the white looked great against her tan skin, but it was definitely dark down the middle where her remaining pubic hair remained. "Are your bottoms wet because of the water, or because of being half naked?"
Later, Hayley decided that the rocks at one end of our beach might hold some interesting shells, or that we would at least find something interesting to look at. She invited me to go with her, knowing there was no way I would say "no". The beach wasn't crowded, but quite a number of couples had set up between us and the rocks, approximately 90 yards away. I remembered the absolute turn-on of walking with my bare breasted wife in front of these other people. Sure, the other women were topless, but all the men still looked at Hayley as she walked by. Aside from her tan line, I had also noticed that Hayley's tits were larger than the women I saw. A part of me wished that some of the jealous wives at the table, and for that matter, their husbands, could see Hayley now! As Hayley walked, her tits jiggled sensually. I had to keep adjusting my cock, which kept slipping to one side in my swim trunks. The rocks, as it would turn out, had nothing interesting to look at, so we returned to our towels. Hayley reached in her bag and pulled out a Frisbee. "Want to play?"
Hayley only played a short time. The whole point was that she knew running and jumping would make her tits bounce, and that I would probably never recover from the sight. She was happily satisfied when I shortly expressed my need for release. We returned to our towels, and she pointed out that no one was close enough to see. I rolled on my side facing towards her, rubbed my cock in my swim trunks, and quickly came. After I had returned from "cooling off" in the water, I told Hayley, "You know, the wait and the money was definitely worth just this morning on the beach." She quickly pulled her nipple, and said she thought so, too.
On the last day of the cruise, a couple from our table party had handed Hayley an envelope. "We just wanted to give you a little souvenir for you to remember the trip by. You can open it later." We all hugged and separated. Hayley put the envelope in her purse, and remembered it later during the flight home. She opened it. Inside were 8" x 10" pictures of both of us walking on the beach, getting closer and closer. Several shots were included that pictured Hayley's butt, our Frisbee game, and my wife standing in the ocean washing her breasts with water. Others showed close-ups of her breasts. A note was included. "We had a choice, go ride a pirate ship and drink some more, or go visit a local beach. Hayley mentioned the name of the beach to Julie, and we asked about it from the excursion desk. They said it wasn't a particularly commercial spot, but that it was nice, private beach and that it was French. We quickly figured out what you were up to, and thought it would be fun to spy on you. So we hid behind the rocks. We thought you might have seen us as you were coming towards us, but you didn't. Julie wouldn't go topless, or we would have been on the beach with you. As it is, we both enjoyed our morning and our evening (as we discussed the morning's adventure in an intimate way). Here's the photos and the negatives. We kept one copy. I can't say if the ship's photo lab kept any copies. We would like to keep in touch. We gave you our phone number and address, but we also have a small web site. Check it out sometime and e-mail us."
It was difficult to discuss on the plane, for fear of others hearing us. In the car ride home, Hayley said, "I can't believe they did that. First taking pictures, and then keeping them. The rush developing must have cost them a fortune."
"Well, I'm sure they were eager to see what the film had on it. I'm kind of happy about it. Not only does the knowledge that someone we know saw your breasts make it an even more powerful memory, but knowing that someone out there is probably jacking off to your pictures really excites me! Besides, I'm sure these pictures are better than the ones I took."
Hayley didn't say anything about how she felt about this. Instead, she asked, "You don't seem a bit jealous that someone else has pictures of me."
"Well, let me think. Maybe it's because you're mine, and the knowledge that someone else desires my wife is both a compliment and a turn-on."
"So you're not jealous if someone sees me naked?"
"Well, not when I'm there to share in it. I wouldn't want you to be flashing guys without me around. Look at you, you're beautiful and sexy. You're probably going to get hit on when I'm not around, if you haven't already."
"Yeah, guys flirt with me when I work out sometimes. Does that make you jealous?"
"No, I just wish you would tell me about it when it happens. I trust you."
The conversation had ended there. It was probably two weeks later that she had come home from working out at the club, obviously tense. "You said I should tell you. There was a new guy there today. He was kind of cute, and it was funny how hard he worked to look at me without being conspicuous." Hayley had worn a white leotard that dipped low on her breasts, and she had worn skin tight black shorts with it. It was no wonder the guy had looked. He probably had several good views of her tits, especially when she was lying down or bending over. Hayley continued, "There had been some other guys in the past who had looked, but, well, you kind of expect that kind of thing. This guy was different, though, because he caught my arm as I was about to leave and asked if I was single."
"And you said?"
"What do you think I said? I told him I was married!"
"Good, but it would have been interesting to see what he said if you had you were single."
"What does that mean? You want me to tease guys? Or that you don't think I could pick up a guy?"
"Neither, Hayley. Don't get so defensive. It's just fun to think about."
Two weeks later, Hayley had arranged for a baby-sitter and we went out to eat. She wore a blue denim skirt and a black tube top. By my request, she had given up wearing panties when she wore skirts or dresses. The tube top was new. My wife's exercise had made her breasts a little smaller, but it didn't return all of their firmness. The tube top was skin tight, and flattened her breasts slightly. And since they hung a little, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. The restaurant, as it turned out, had been freezing, and her nipples stuck out in the fabric. "It looks like you chose the wrong shirt for the restaurant," I had said.
"Yes, but it's the right shirt for what's next," she answered.
"Dancing. We're going. A friend told me about a club where the music isn't too loud, they mix the types of dances, there's few teenagers, and smoking is not permitted."
"You know I don't like to dance."
"Yes, but I know you will at least slow dance with me. But I still intend to dance, with you or with someone else. It's been a long time, and I don't think I'll have trouble finding a partner."
She didn't. We sat at a table near the dance floor. She sat patiently through one song and saw that I wasn't about to dance to the faster numbers. She made eye contact with a guy nearby, and she was quickly on the dance floor. It was the right shirt, all right. Her tits swung within her top as she danced, and she had a succession of dance partners. Finally, a slow song began and I made myself get up and cut in.
"I thought you might just watch all night."
"Watching you has been fun, but I wanted to get close, too."
"Uh huh, and I can feel why." She pressed her pelvis against my hard on. As we danced, I kissed her neck, and watched as red splotches grew. "Stop that! I want to dance some more." So I stopped and felt my wife's butt. The denim was thin, and the feel of her panty-less skin was unmistakable.
When the song ended, we both had gone to the bathroom. I returned first to the table, and watched for Hayley to come out. She did shortly, but it looked like she had lowered her tube top slightly, revealing more of her breasts. Before she got to me, a guy that she had danced with several times stepped in and asked to dance some more, which she did.