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Summary of this Story:
Barb invites sister-in-law Molly over for a pool day on her private five-acre lot. Molly swims naked, sparking confessions about her exhibitionist streak from kid days with sister Sarah. Next day, Molly coaxes Barb to strip too, leading to mutual touching and an orgasm by the pool. Two weeks later, at a gallery on Michigan Avenue, Molly, Jack, and Tim surprise Barb into posing nude for Paul’s crowd and photographer Ramón. She strips under the spotlight, allows touches, and climaxes publicly with Lauren’s help, turning into living art amid wine and chatter.
Why this story will hook you:
Dude, that moment when Barb drops her pale yellow bra with the blue flowers onto the gallery pile, Victoria’s Secret tag itching her back, and the room goes dead quiet except for the shutter clicks—total rush. Then the gut-punch when Jack’s watching his wife get fingered to a screaming orgasm right there on the divan, grinning like it’s the hottest thing, but you feel her nerves twisting up before she lets go. Pool lotion residue still sticky on Molly’s fingers later? Can’t shake it.
Check out your Story: From Poolside Nude to Gallery’s Unforgiving Glow
Ramón knelt one last time, shutter clicking the gallery’s pale yellow bra crumpled on the pile.
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Occasionally, over the years, I’d toss stories up on Literotica. Fresh pen names each go-round. Forgot passwords and emails between drops. One series as “luv2bseen” started with “Exposing Carol.” Others under “write4joy” and “mewsofmymuse.” Now I’ve got a stack more. This one’s liable to kick off a fresh run.
Yesterday shook shit up. Good? Hell if I know. But no backing out now.
Jack and his kid brother Tim headed out Friday for a fishing trip over the Fourth. Tim’s a third-year associate at some downtown Chicago firm. His wife Molly’s no slouch—mid-level exec at a big health care chain. They crash in a highrise an hour out on Lake Shore Drive. Jack and I hunt art all day long. Lucky break way back: we dumped cash into startups. All but one paid off huge. Rolled it into blue chips coughing up dividends thick enough to coast forever. No bosses, never again.
Early July’s been muggy as hell, pushing 95 Fahrenheit. Friday I rang Molly—come hit the pool, crack some cold Bud Lights? Her office shut at noon for the holiday. She bit right away, ditching the city heat.
Our five-acre lot’s choked with woods. House sits smack in the clearing, oaks and pines ringing it tight. Privacy’s ironclad.
Wet one-piece stuck to her skin as the gate buzzer hummed. Minutes later Molly grinned at the door. “Thanks, Barb! It’s a goddamn oven in town!”
Warm hug, cheek peck. Sister-in-law, yeah, but real friend too—laughs over IPAs, secrets swapped at dive bars, heart-to-hearts that stick. I poured Lipton iced tea. She grabbed a chilled Kendall-Jackson.
Kitchen yak, then out by the pool. First time just us two. Drinks on the patio umbrella table, condensation dripping off the cans. “Hey, Barb, you mind if I swim naked today?”
Molly don’t beat around the bush. I blinked. “Uh, knock yourself out.”
Caught me off guard, sure. Bikini flashes before, but never buck naked. She peeled it off quick. Thirty-year-old tight, tan lines from that little two-piece. Dove in, lapped the length twice. Glided smooth as glass. Waved me over—I jumped in my swimsuit, chlorine stinging my nose.
Out she came, toweled dry. No cover-up under the umbrella, wine pouring steady, talk loose. I glanced away. Botched it a couple times, eyes snagging on the faint bikini ghost across her tits.
Half hour later, she bounced for city dinner with her girlfriends. Invited her for Saturday lunch. Quick yes. Hug, grin, tires crunching gravel gone.
Her naked shape burned in my skull.
Poolside Confessions
Saturday noon she pulled up with gourmet deli sandwiches from Potbelly, two bottles of pinot. Veranda shade, cicadas buzzing. She fidgeted with her glass.
“Barb, we gotta talk about yesterday.”
“What?”
“Stuff about me.” Sip. Pause, ice clinking. “Intimate shit, but you’re my friend first. Feels safe spilling anything.”
Hand on her arm, Target tank top still damp from morning swim. Smile. “Lay it out.”
Drink down fast. “Kid days, hated clothes. Parents cool as long as no outsiders around. Sister Sarah came along—we romped bare even as teens. She lost interest. Me? Loved it. Puberty hit, nudity wired straight to that sex buzz. Parents clamped it to bedrooms and gym showers. Classmates spotting me? Electric thrill.”
“Sounds like you’re an exhibitionist.”
“Figured that out early. Kept it controlled—no unwilling eyes. Buzz from folks who want the view. Too much?”
“Nah. Glad you trust me. Truth? You naked looks good. Beautiful, Molly. Nothing to hide.”
“Don’t wanna hide. It’s thrilling. Not obsessed, no flashing strangers. But naked for starers? Feels free, sexy rush.”
Pause, eyes on the patio stones, smile creeping up. “You?”
“Me what?”
“Only nude one ever?”
“No.”
“Wanna be?”
“Too old.”
“Nope.” Eyes tracing my legs, chest. “That one-piece shows off a killer body. Legs are fantastic.”
She stirred something in me. “Try it now?”
Smile. Where’s this going? “Just us.”
Hesitation—not a no. “Love seeing you bare, Barb. Bet you’d dig my eyes on you.”
“Dunno. Never done it. What’d it feel like?”
“Try.”
Looked me over head to toe. Smile. Waited.
“Okay.”
Outta left field. But yeah.
“Great! Go slow. Let me take you in.”
Stood, stepped off the veranda boards. Shirt unbuttoned, slipped off shoulders. Her eyes wide. Tiny shiver from the breeze on my skin. Shorts pooled at my feet on the warm stones. Bra, panties facing her direct.
“God, Barb! You’re beautiful!”
Hesitated. “Turn slow. Lemme see that ass.”
Did. “Wow!” Face back to her. “Say you wanna show everything.”
“I wanna show you all of it.”
Control was mine—hot as hell. Bra clasp popped. Tits out, her mouth dropped. “Nipples hard already. This turns you on.”
“Does. Can’t believe it—I’m wet down there.”
Nod, her stare on my panties. Sides grabbed, slid down my legs. Hands on hips, sway slow. Her eyes glued to my bush.
“See? Sexy as fuck bare for a looker. Love you like that, nothing on.”
“Dunno what to say. This is wild.”
“Fondle yourself.”
Did. Slow at first, then hungry. Felt free. Human. Sexy. She watched every goddamn inch.
Up she got. “Swim time.”
Clothes off, dove in. Me right after. Splash fights, laps till arms burned, floating on our backs, pool lights flickering under us.
Out, sun drying our skin. Towel spread out, her sunblock bottle offered back. Legs squirted white, feet rubbed deep. Legs parted slight—full reach up her thighs.
“Ass too?”
Grunt yes. Rubbed slow. Back, shoulders next. “Flip over.”
Tits first, nipples gentle circles. Belly full coverage. Thighs—legs wide now, lotion slick everywhere. Feet done. “That bush? Don’t want it burning.”
Nod, spread wider. Palm globed on my pubis. Rested there. No woman ever touched me there. Circle rub, clit grazed. Middle finger slipped along my outer lips.
“Feels good,” I murmured.
Slit pressed, up-down slow. Tiny moan. Thumb flicked my clit. Hips lifted off the towel, eyes open—hers met mine.
“Do it.”
Finger probed my pussy, in-out steady. Held it there, smiled. “Like that, Barb?”
“Do.”
“Wanna cum?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Cum, Molly. Make me cum!”
Urgent, my voice cracked. Pressed her hand harder. Finger hunted my G-spot. Gentle press. Shudder ripped through. Again. Again. Too much. Hips bucked hard, orgasm hit. Moan ripped out. Whimper trailed. Eased down slow.
“Beautiful,” finger slid out.
Eyes on her, hands hid my face. She patted my head. Back in the pool.
Love being naked—told her that straight.
“Kiss?” Face caressed.
Leaned in. Lips brushed. Harder press. Tongues touched, hers met mine. Tit fondled, nipple pinched light. She dove under, kissed my bush, tongue on my slit. Surfaced, kiss again wet and deep.
Hour bare together. Wine bottle drained. Sun soaking our skin. No heavy confessions.
She split, I hit the bed. Masturbated twice, cums hard enough to soak the sheets.
Changed everything, no doubt.
Gallery Spotlight
Two weeks later, Molly calls: city lunch Saturday? Bring Jack.
12:30 French bistro on Rush Street, her and Tim already there, croissants flaking on the plates. After, gallery a few blocks off on Michigan Avenue. Twenty-five folks chatting modern art in clumps, wine stains spotting the hardwood.
“Molly! Great to see you!” Tan blazer guy—Paul, the owner. Handshakes all around. Door lock clicked shut. “Meet my friends.”
Ten minutes of hellos, small talk over cheese puffs.
Paul eyes me direct. “Molly says you’ll strip for us.”
“What?!”
“Nude in a room full of clothes. She likes it that way.”
Glance at Molly, Jack, Tim. Smiles all around.
“Sorry, Barb,” Jack said. “Molly spilled about the pool after the fishing trip. Fantasized you solo nude in spots like this. Called her—you loved it.”
“Me too,” Tim chimed. “Her bare stories are hot. We three cooked this up. No offense—say no, it’s cool.”
Wasn’t mad. Naked here? Buzz hit hard. “But I can’t.”
Faces fell disappointed. “Excited, yeah. Embarrassed. Nervous. Shy as hell.”
“That’s the thrill,” Molly said. “Emotions churning. Then release.”
Jack’s eyes said it’s fine. His words too. Others nodded.
“Can’t believe I’m saying it—yes. Guests cool with it?”
“They’ve seen it before.” Molly’s smile. “Told ’em maybe today. They’re eager. Touch? Your call. No one’s pissed if not.”
Jack: “Okay by me, Barb. Let ’em if you want. Hot seeing you turned on like that.”
Molly, Tim agreed. Brother-in-law’s eyes? Extra kick in the gut.
Paul: “Do it.”
Smile, room went hush center stage. “Treat for friends.” Points at me. “Barb digs going nude here. Living art piece.”
Waved me over. “Floor’s yours. Show off, mingle, talk. Enjoy the stares.”
Steps back, tweaked the wall light—spot hit me bright.
Shadows waited at the edges. Skirt unzipped, pooled at my feet. Kicked it aside. Blouse buttons slow while turning—front row views all. Shirt dropped on the skirt pile. Shoes off next. Pale yellow bra-panties with blue flowers, Victoria’s Secret tag itching my back.
Smile at a couple my age nearby. Her smile up-down scan. Him too.
Sudden: “Bra off.” Turned my back. Cool fingers unclasped. Dropped to the pile, stepped clear. “Wait—panties too.”
Hands on hips, slid them down my feet. Stepped out. Nose sniffed the crotch fabric, tossed on top. Applause broke loose.
Street windows let in afternoon light off Michigan Avenue. Overheads cranked brighter. Everyone saw everything.
Four crowded close, others in groups. “Excited?”
“Can’t believe how much. Nervous too.”
“Okay. Can we touch?”
Nodded. Hand on cheek, trailed down back. Smile. Shoulder to tits, between them. Finger poked my belly button. Stopped. “Thanks. Skin’s lovely.”
Ass grabbed—woman first, man squeezed gentle after. First guy palmed my bush. Overload. “Stop.” They did. Thanks—why the hell not?—walked toward the watchers.
“Brave,” young woman said. “I wanna too.”
“Join me.”
She stripped fast, grabbed my hand. Smile to Jack-Tim-Molly across the room.
Paul waved over a gray long-hair guy. Ramón, nude wall photog. “Pleasure. Beautiful contrast in ages. Photo now?”
Naked gal Lauren hesitated. “Tasteful. Erotic but tasteful.”
Smile, nod. Me too.
Jack-Tim-all watched close. Poses struck, shutter clicked steady.
“Barb’s face in ecstasy? Lauren fondles you to cum?”
“Everyone?” Jack smiled.
“Yes. Face shots only. They see the arousal.”
Agreed.
“Excellent!” Divan against the wall lined his nudes. Head back on the rest. Lauren beside, face out of frame. Ramón whispered—she nodded.
Camera eye locked. Hand on hip, trailed belly slow. Shutter clicked. Clicked again.
Torso arched, tits upthrust. “Beautiful, love,” Jack called.
Smile at him. Nipples teased between fingers. Pleasure rushed hot. Down between tits. Squeezed each one. Hand rested above my pussy. Face shots now, turning me on bad.
Finger on right labia, tugged the hair. Pressed my mound slow.
“Oh!” Gasped, eyes shut, head tilted back. Felt good. Clicks rapid.
“Go, Barb,” crowd voice urged.
Lips parted. Finger-fucked slow. Breath hot over my pussy. Faster now. Fingers clutched wet. Edge building—stopped. Teased the hover. Again to edge. Nipples pinched, mouth kissed deep. Arched back, hips lifted desperate. Needed those fingers bad.
“Cum!” voices yelled. Woman too.
Arched hard, mouth wide open. Scream as I fell off the cliff. Fingers pumped my pussy. Clit licked flat. “Yes!” “Fuck me!” Eyes flew open—clit sucked hard. Mouth lifted, fingers slowed out. Deep exhale. Spent, slumped heavy.
Claps started. Spread wide. Jack-Tim-Molly grinned ear to ear. Lauren kissed my cheek. Ramón snapped close face shots. “Great.”
Ramón knelt one last time, shutter clicking the gallery’s pale yellow bra crumpled on the pile.
Jack draped his arm over my shoulders as the chatter picked up again, wineglasses clinking like nothing happened. Molly shot me a wink across the room, her fingers still sticky from lotion residue. Tim hung back by the divan, thumbing the edge of a photo print while Ramón packed his Nikon. Paul flipped the overheads dimmer, street noise filtering through the Michigan Avenue windows. I stepped into my panties first, fabric cool against sweat-damp skin, the blue flowers smudged faint from the pile. Tits still tingled from the air. Everyone watched casual now, like it was just another Friday opener. Jack squeezed my hand once—solid grip—before grabbing our coats from the hook by the door.
