Ida Gets Wet – Part One

Ida Gets Wet – Part 1

Ida is a shy exhibitionist. She and her husband Art enjoy letting her show her twat to truckers on long trips. But so far, that’s usually pretty much the extent of her exhibitionism. They do this several times a year, and it spices up their sex life. It also has the added benefit of making her wet, since she is in her sixties and has started to dry up a bit. Art tells her that her juices smell totally different on their “outings” than at home. “Darker and spicier,” he says, “like when we watch porn, only much, much stronger.” They were planning an “outing” on their way to the beach over Memorial Day weekend, and Art was dreaming up something special.
Sometimes when they watch porn in bed, Ida will wear one of Art’s stretched out sleeveless undershirts. Ida is somewhat diminutive, so the shirt is more like a mini dress for her, only with thinner fabric, and Art loves how it makes her look. He had recently bought a couple of new packages of undershirts, and, as they had not yet been worn, they were not stretched out. One night after they made love, he asked Ida to try one on. When she did, he was completely breathless. He’d only seen her in his older, stretched out shirts, but this new one clung to her body like a second skin. It showed her narrow waist and ample breasts in a way he’d never imagined. And so his plan was born.

“Ida, would you do something for me on the way to the beach?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, hearing a certain tone in his voice.

“Well, as we’ve discussed, our outings are going to come to an end soon, because our cars can no longer be trusted for long trips, and I thought maybe…” Art paused, unsure as to convey just how much he’d like this to happen.

“What?” asked Ida.

Art asked, “Well, do you remember when we were driving through Kansas last year, and you agreed to put on the thin print dress with nothing under it?“ Ida remembered it well. The dress was almost, but not quite see-through, although they had taken a photo of her in the sunlight, to assure her that it was not unseemly transparent. On that trip, he had wanted her to wear it all day, but she refused. She compromised by agreeing to put it on for a couple of hours partway through the day. And when she walked out of the bathroom at the rest area, she had never felt so naked. She felt like everyone could see her body clearly. Of course, it made her soaked, which she grudgingly admitted when they got back in the car.
Now, she thought he was asking for a replay, though the print dress had actually made her hot and sticky and uncomfortable (not down there, it was mostly her back). Ida liked her dresses to be comfortable, even if she were flashing truckers with the hem raised above her navel.

“I really don’t want to wear that one again,” she said, “it was too hot.”

“I’m not asking for that,” he said “but something just a bit riskier.” A thrill went through Ida’s body, though she was almost too nervous to ask.

“So what do you want?” she finally asked meekly.

“Well, I was thinking, wondering, and hoping I could talk you into changing into one of my new undershirts, just from one rest area to the next.”

Ida was quiet for a while, thinking. She had been a little cranky with Art lately, “pooty” is how she put it, but this seemed too much to ask. “Can I think about it” she asked.

“Of course” said Art, glad that she would even consider it. As Ida thought about wearing that undershirt in public, she could feel herself becoming flushed. She realized that the very idea was arousing to her. But could she possibly overcome her natural shyness, to be so overtly sexual in public? No, she told herself, that’s not fair. Not sexual, but more revealing than she had ever been. Her breasts would be clearly outlined, her nipples would likely be erect and prominent and her pubic hair might be seen through the thin fabric. As if he were reading her mind, Art said “Look, it would just mean walking from the restroom to the car, and then from the car to the restroom at the next rest area. It would be like in Kansas, and you admitted afterward that wasn’t so bad. And anyway, the real point is, we may never get a chance to do something like this again.”
He let that point sink in. By now, Ida knew that this was something that meant a great deal to Art, and she weighed how embarrassed she’d feel against the specter of disappointing her husband, whom she adored. “Just one rest area to the next?” she asked.

“Yes, and you can pick the rest areas, if you like,” he said, almost disbelieving that she would do it.

She paused and thought for awhile. “Okay,” she said finally, “but if we ever have more outings, I won’t do it again.”
As the day of their departure came near, Ida got increasingly nervous about it. Art had taken a picture of her in the shirt in the bright sunlight, to show her that it wasn’t as thin and see-through as she was afraid it would be, but it was just so damned clingy. As they looked at the photo on her laptop, she got that familiar tingling at the thought of strangers possibly seeing her that way. “It’ll just be a short walk,” she reminded herself. “Maybe no one will even notice. And it’s not like lots of other women don’t go noticeably braless in public during warm weather.”

On the morning of the trip, Ida was full of butterflies. They were planning on flashing truckers in one of her sundresses anyway, but this was another hurdle for her shy side. She got the undershirt and put it in her bag. She had decided to wait until mid-afternoon to change, when it was hotter. “Maybe my nipples won’t show as much” she hoped to herself, but a little voice inside said, “You’re gonna be aroused. They’ll show alright.”

When they got to the interstate, Ida took her panties off and put them in her bag. It was a warm morning, and the sun felt good on her legs as she pulled the hem of her dress above her pubic hair. She sat casually with her legs spread just a bit, as they passed several truckers. A couple of them sped up to stay for a longer look, and when Art paced them, Ida began to get aroused. One trucker showed particular interest, so Ida laid her seat back and spread her legs to show him her bush and her lips. Art liked to dip a finger into her twat afterward to measure her wetness. “You smell spicy already, Ida,” he said, ”have you been anticipating today’s activities”?

“Yes, you know I have,” she replied. “I always do.”
After a morning of flashing, Ida was already feeling flushed. As they stopped for an early lunch, Art asked, “How about leaving your panties off while we eat? That dress is plenty long enough to cover you when you sit.”

Ida considered it and agreed to go commando. Art’s point about this possibly being their last outing made her loathe to disappoint him. But in the air-conditioned restaurant, she was acutely aware of the wetness between her legs, which she kept close together.
Back on the road, an hour or so later, Ida saw the sign: Rest Area 2 miles. This was the one she had picked. It was on a lesser traveled part of the interstate in a rural area, which is why she chosen it. She began to feel what she called “trembly” and her mouth was dry. As they pulled into a parking spot, Art said “I’m going to stay in the car and watch you from here.” He had peed a few miles back when they gassed up.
Ida took her bag and got out of the car. Art had parked near the end of a narrow sidewalk leading up to the restrooms. She walked up two or three concrete steps, started up the walk, and saw that there were two middle aged men sitting on a bench by the walkway eating sandwiches. They were decent looking and were wearing shorts and work shirts with their names embossed, “Jake” and “Brent.” Their logos showed that they worked for Atlas Moving Lines and as she walked by them they spoke pleasantly.
“Oh Lord,” thought Ida, “I’ll have to walk right by them on my way back to the car.” At least they were clean and decent looking. Ida went into the restroom and entered a stall. She sat and took several deep breaths before peeing, then Ida sighed and took her sundress off. “Well, it’ll just be one time,” she thought, and pulled the undershirt over her head. “I’m doing this just for Art,” she reminded herself, ignoring the fact that she was doing it for a part of herself as well. As she passed the mirrors she glanced at her reflection. She had to admit, though she wouldn’t tell Art, that she thought her body looked pretty damned good in the undershirt.
As Ida walked back into the sunlight, she felt her nipples straining against the fabric, despite the warm afternoon. She hoped the truckers would be engrossed in conversation and wouldn’t take notice of her. No such luck. As she approached them, she saw they were both checking her out. She blushed and kept her eyes down and remembered Art’s only stipulation: “You don’t have to saunter, but don’t rush back to the car.” She tried to walk past them at a measured pace.

“Ma’am, can you tell me the time?” the man whose shirt said Brent asked. By now she was almost next to them.

She glanced at her watch and told him, “It’s 1:25,” and intended to keep walking.

Then the other driver, Jake asked, “Ma’am, can I tell you something?” Ida stopped, raised her eyes and looked at him. She was expecting to see a leer, but what she saw in his eyes was all admiration, pure and simple. “Ma’am, we noticed your nice legs on your way in to the bathroom. You looked good in that sundress. But in what you’re wearing now, I can see just how amazing your body is. I can only hope that my wife will look half as good at your age. May I be rude and ask how old you are?”
“Well, I’m in my sixties,” Ida said, realizing that she was blushing. They both laughed in total disbelief.

“Sixties!” said Brent, “Hell, you look a sight better than my wife does now and she’s 38!” “That’s the best body I’ve ever seen on a woman in her sixties.” Jake added, “And you have a real ‘woman’s’ body…just look at you: full breasts, narrow waist, just a bit of swell to your belly, bigger hips and slim legs. And best of all, to me, unshaven. Whether you know it or not, lady, you are a knockout.”
Ida blushed again, but now that she realized she wasn’t being ogled she relaxed just a little, though it was unsettling to think that they could see her pubic hair through the shirt. She suddenly wondered what Art was thinking of her stopping to talk to two strangers, dressed as she was. She knew he would be pleased, not only at her boldness, but her courage to interact. “I bet he’s leaking like crazy” she thought. She looked at the two of them smiling and watching her and she thought to herself “I never pictured truckers to be so…I don’t know, so real, and polite, and most of all not leering.” Ida noticed with a start that she was staring at Jake’s obvious erection, and she could see a wet spot on his khaki shorts.
That brought her daydreaming attention back to the present. How long had she stood there and let them look? “You are both too kind” she said, finally, “But I appreciate the compliments.” She was distracted by the realization that she felt a tiny strand of her juices rolling down the inside of her right thigh. Before they could notice it she laughed nervously and said “Y’all have a nice day” and turned to walk to the car. “You have made our day very nice already“ said Brent. “Your husband is an extremely lucky man” Jake called to her as she walked away. He had noticed her wedding ring.
As Ida walked back towards the car, she realized “That wasn’t so bad. In fact I kinda liked it!” She was proud of their polite attention, and mostly, ever so glad that they hadn’t ogled her. Art told her constantly how great she looked, but it was very different coming from total strangers. As she walked she could feel how soupy her twat had become. No wonder she was dripping down her leg. She could see Art in the car and he had gotten the camera out and was taking pictures of her as she walked. She smiled at him. No, actually she had a shit eating grin on her face that wouldn’t go away.

As Ida got to the top of the steps, Art got out and walked to meet her. She could see his erection poking out of the leg of his shorts, and when she was still a few feet away, he exclaimed “Holy shit, Ida, I can smell you from here!” Ida blushed and immediately wondered if Brent and Jake had smelled her, too. She had stood not three feet away from them, so it was certain that they likely had. Tingling with that thought, she waited as Art opened her door and let her in the car. She made sure to give him a good look at her lips.
Art was expecting her to be wet, but he was unprepared for what he saw. Ida’s already large pussy lips were swollen larger than he’d ever seen them. And he could see that she was leaking profusely. There was a trail of her juices running down her leg. “Good thing we have the pillowcase” he said as he chuckled. They brought along a pillowcase on their outings to put beneath her so she wouldn’t get her dress or the car seat wet. Art had already laid it out for Ida.
Art got back in his seat and cranked the car. “Wait just a few minutes” said Ida, “I want them to leave here first.” “Okay” said Art, guessing what she had in mind, “let me take some pictures of your twat. I’ve never seen it quite that wet. And then I want to hear what they said to you” Ida turned and faced Art in her seat. She spread her legs toward the camera, and raised her knees. “Ida, check out your clit!” Art said excitedly, “It’s bigger than I’ve ever seen it.” Ida looked down. Her clit was indeed more engorged than even she herself had ever seen. Ida’s hood was smaller than many women so her clit poked out often, but usually it was pea sized.  She hardly recognized the shiny, deep red, marble sized protuberance. Her hood was stretched tight against it, and she thought to herself “If I touched myself anywhere near it, I think I’d come in a heartbeat.” She suddenly realized that she was literally aching to come.
But coming would have to wait. They sat for a few minutes in the car, while Ida told Art about Jake and Brent and what they had said to her. When she paused Art said “Ida, I love you so much. Thank you for going along with my idea. I was so proud of you and when you stopped to talk, I was hard as a rock, and leaking so much I had to use a tissue so I wouldn‘t make a wet spot on my shorts or the seat.” He continued, “Now will you believe me when I say what a killer body you have?”

“Well, I guess maybe it’s a little easier to believe now,” said Ida. “I think I just saw them pull out. Let’s go catch up with them.”

End of Part One