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Teaching Millie She's Hot, Part II: Chicas Grandes

Shy fat wife has to go to a public beach in a tiny bikini...
One Friday night a few weeks later, we sat down to our weekly poker game. It was late June, and warm outside. Millie was wearing nothing but nylon panties and one of my sleeveless undershirts; it clung to her huge tits like half-transparent paint, with acres of pretty white flesh exposed at the top and sides, and she looked wonderful. I estimated I was looking at eight inches of inviting cleavage.

"Uh, Jeff, my face is up here," she laughed as I dealt the first hand.

"Um. Sorry," I said. "If that shirt is your strategy for distracting me during the game, it's gonna work."

"Thanks. It's hot and I--"

"It sure is," I put in.

She laughed again. "I just meant I wanted to be comfortable." She may have been, but I wasn't. I could see her enormous nipples through the ribbed cotton fabric.

"I know, but you look hot anyway. Your bet."

"The laundry tomorrow, plus vacuum the house. You really like me in this?"

"See that, raise you cleaning the garage. You look delicious. Not a man alive wouldn't want to grab you and ball your brains out."

"Fooey. You're just weird. Call."

I dealt another card. "Some day I'll prove it to you. Your bet again."

"You can't because it's not true. Laundry Saturday, vacuum, do the garage, and clean the bathrooms."

I looked at my cards. "I fold," I said. According to our rules, I was now stuck with doing the laundry tomorrow and vacuuming the house.

"You sure have loosened up since your oil dance," I said with a hint of inquiry as she dealt the next hand. I couldn't get the image of my sweet Millie wriggling and jiggling in nothing but a coating of shiny oil out of my mind. That, and the ferocious tit-popping fuck that followed.

Millie shrugged--an awesome sight; you have NO idea. "I'm just more comfortable with you looking at me," she said. "I used to hate it. Now I like it. It makes me feel good, knowing somebody likes the way I look. Now stop staring at my damn boobs and bet."

I was reflecting that her huge nipples were bigger than many women's whole tits. "Oh. Yeah. Uh, clean the garage."

We chatted like this while we got the chores divided. I tried to make sure I didn't win all the hands I dealt....

You see, this was the night my plan would go into action. The book I'd sent for was on how to cheat at cards, and I had been practicing. It was working like a charm.

All through the game, every time it was my deal, I was faking the shuffle, running up hands, nullifying the cut, and dealing seconds and bottoms out the wazoo--and Millie didn't have a clue.

After we started playing for fucks--we had started calling it what it was, instead of "forfeits"--I was biding my time, waiting till I could run up exactly the hands I wanted. By the time it happened, I owed her a full-body oil massage with a tit-milking fuck (tragic loss, that), a blindfolded, no-hands pussy-eating, and I would be getting the mail in my underwear all week. She owed me two blowjobs, a soapy handjob in the shower, a naked bouncy-fuck squatting on my dick, plus washing the car in a T-shirt and shorts, braless. I was looking forward to collecting all of my winnings, but especially that last. I won it honest, too--it had been her deal.

Finally, I was ready. I had her hand on the top of the deck and mine on the bottom, and off we went.

I dealt her a pair of kings, one up, one down. I was holding two fives. Her bet. "Fuck me blindfolded," she said.

That, I hated. I pretended to think. "Call," I finally said.

Next card. Another King for Millie; an ace for me. She was high, a pair of Kings showing--and I knew she had another one in the hole. "Fuck me blindfolded every time we fuck this week," she said with a smirk.

"That's mean. You just said you were getting to like me looking at you," I complained.

"That's my bet," she replied, smirking even more.

"I get it. You just want to be a pain in the ass," I said, nodding. "Okay, then: we go to the beach tomorrow afternoon. No sundress. You wear a swimsuit the whole time, and we don't leave till it's dark."

Millie looked at my cards. She knew that I knew she hated going to the beach, and hated wearing her one-piece tanksuit even more. This was a big bet for her.

"Call," she said. "You're pretty brave with that pair of aces."
I tried to look like I was trying to look confident. "Here's your card, Big Tits. Ooo, a big four. Whoopee. And I get--another five. Still your bet."

"Blindfolded fucks all week, plus a topless air blowjob. One hour. Suffer, Big Dick."

I gaped at her. "On a pair of Kings?" I made a big show of looking at my hole card. "Call," I finally said. "I know it's dumb, but there it is."

"You're not fooling me. You've got two pair, aces and fives," she said smugly. I tried to smile confidently. It was hard not to grin like a hyena. She was falling for it big-time.

Last card. Another four for Millie, giving her a full house, Kings over fours. She was trying really hard to suppress her smile, but I knew it was there. She had a beautiful baby face, but it wasn't much of a poker face.

I got another five. Now I had four of a kind. I was high, with three of them showing. "Gotcha!"

"You wish." She grinned at me. "What's your bet, Blindfold Boy?"

I looked at her for a long moment. Then I got up from the table and went into the living room, backing away. "Don't peek at my cards. I'm watching you."

"I won't. What are you doing?"

"Getting my bet." I came back with a small box. "I got this in the mail today. Sent off for it last week."

"What is it?" She looked at the box suspiciously. It was about the size of a box of Kleenex.

"A swimsuit." I opened the box and held up the two pieces. They looked like a couple of white handkerchiefs with some strings attached. "A stretch G-string bikini."

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Uh-uh. No way."

"You wear this to the beach," I went on relentlessly. "No coverup. You wear it all afternoon and evening, and nothing else."

"No way," she said again, and for a moment I was sure my plan was failing. Then Millie said, "There's no way you're bluffing me out of this one. I'll see that, and raise you a two-hour air blowjob, naked, with a week of blindfolded fucks." She smiled at me smugly, confident that I would either fold or lose.

And that, I thought, was the sound of a trap snapping shut.

"Don't you even want to try it on? You ought to know what you're betting," I said.

"Siddown, Jeff. Call, raise, or fold." Millie sat back with her arms folded under her tits--another awesome sight--and looked at me expectantly. "Whatcha gonna do?"

She had worked it out just as I'd hoped. She figured me for a pair of aces, which with the three fives would give me a full house, fives over aces; but her kings over fours was a better hand. She never thought of a fourth five.

I shrugged and sat down. "Okay," I said. "I'll raise you. You put that bikini on before we leave the house, and you don't even bring anything else with you. You wear that, and nothing else, till we get back. And we leave first thing in the morning, and we stay till dark." Might as well dig her in a little deeper.

"Blindfolded fucks all week, a two-hour naked air blowjob, and you serve me breakfast in bed all weekend wearing a frilly apron and nothing else."

We looked at each other levelly. "Call," I said.

She flipped over the king with a sly grin. "Read 'em and weep, cowboy."

I smiled and flipped over my five.

Her jaw dropped, and her big blue eyes went wide; and then she was furious. "God damn it, Jeff!" She slapped the table hard. "I was sure you had another ace! Shit!"

"That's why they call it 'gambling,' Sweet Cheeks."

She looked at me with a wry expression. Her furies never lasted more than a few seconds. "And a lot of people are going to see my big, fat sweet cheeks tomorrow, I guess." She sighed. "Let's see that damned bikini." She took the scraps of white cotton and strings and went into the bedroom.

I half expected her to renege on the bet after she tried it on. It took her a long time in the bedroom, and when she came out wearing it, her face was red. So were her eyes. I'm pretty sure she had been crying. "Jeff, look at me!" she cried plaintively. "I look ridiculous!"

I was looking at her, had been since she came out. I shook my head slowly as I looked her up and down. "Nooo," I said, just as slowly. "No, baby. You don't."

Millie stamped her bare foot, which made everything jiggle delectably. "I do too! Look at my tits! This thing barely hides my nipples!"

It was true. The bikini was sized extra-large, but for a normally busted woman; average, even big, breasts would have been decently covered. On Millie, it looked like a pair of extra-large, triangular pasties.

Her huge breasts were basically left bare, with the straining, stretched-to-the-max triangles of her bra covering her double-fist sized knobs and little more. And "covered" was a relative term; you could clearly see the outline of her slightly swollen aureolae, and her thumb-sized titty-tips were clingily sheathed like the fabric was wet. They weren't bent or folded up or to the side, like in a regular bra or even in my undershirt. They stuck all the way straight out, like fingertips gloved in white cotton. Her fat pink faucets were perfectly wrapped in the little pocket of slack at the end of the seam that gave the cups a slight cone shape. .

She had had to tie it low down on her back; if she had pulled it up underneath her big floppers, you couldn't have seen a thread of the bra, only the strings. The stretchy cups gave her tits no support at all. They swung and dangled just as low, almost to her waist, as they did when they were bare.

The G-string bottom covered only her shaved pussy mound, and the crease of her pussy was clearly visible. The white fabric clung to her plump cunt like it was painted on, and the whiteness emphasized the fold of her deep pussy slit.

Ridiculous, no; practically naked, yes.

She turned around, and I gasped in spite of myself. From behind, she was naked, with only a couple of strings across her bare back and broad hips. Her spectacular, huge, firm, pale and perfect beachball ass was entirely bare.

She turned back and looked at me. "Glared" would be too mild a word by light-years. Her eyes were absolutely white-hot. Through gritted teeth, she said, "I've never reneged on a bet, Jeff, and I'm not going to start now. But I want you to know: tomorrow will be the worst and longest day of my life, and I'm never going to get over it. Never."

I moved forward to take her in my arms, but she stepped back. "No," she said. So I just stood there.

"Millie," I said, low and quiet. "Do you trust me?"

"I always did," she said. Her voice had a little quaver to it. She was near tears again.

"Millie." I said again. She looked at my face, and I looked directly into her big, blue, red-rimmed eyes. "Do you trust me?" I asked again.

Our gazes locked for a very long moment. "Yes," she finally said. "I don't know wh--"

She stopped and her eyes widened. "There's something I don't know, isn't there?"

I nodded. "But I'm not going to tell you what it is. You'll have to trust me and see it for yourself." I looked at her. "You know how I love you. Trust me, Millie. Please."

Doubtfully, she finally came into my arms and snuggled close as I stroked the beautiful, bare, smooth expanses of her exposed skin. "Is it a private beach?" she asked hopefully in a tiny voice. "Nobody else will be there?"

"No, it's a public beach. There'll be lots of people there. But it'll be all right. You'll see."

"I can't imagine what could possibly make it all right." She shivered in my arms. "But I love you, Jeff. I do. And I know you love me." she nuzzled my chest with her soft cheek, and I felt the sweet pressure of her huge, precious tits moving softly against my chest. "I trust you. I'm in your hands."

As we made love later, she cried out, just before she came on my plunging cock, "Oh, Jeff, I'm so scared!"

She cried and came at the same time as I shuddered and spurted deep in her sweet shaved pussy. I held her close and reassured her and kissed her till she finally fell asleep, still trembling.

The next morning, Saturday, I woke her at seven o'clock. We hardly spoke as we ate breakfast--Millie made scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee, wearing a floor-length terry robe, and we ate in virtual silence. "More coffee?" I asked as I got up to get mine. She just shook her head.

We were finally done. "Time to go, baby," I said. She nodded again and padded off to the bedroom, shoulders slumped. I began packing the car with the few things we'd need. A blanket, too big and thick for her to wrap up in, but perfect for lying on the beach; a big beach umbrella; and sandwiches, chips, soft drinks, and other snacks in an ice chest. Then I realized there was one more thing we needed.

Just as I thought of that and closed the trunk, Millie came out of the house wearing the obscenely miniscule swimsuit, looking around cautiously. Her pretty hands were trembling, and her loose, swinging tits were quivering. She stood on the doorstep, almost paralyzed with fear. I opened the passenger-side door of the car, which was nearest her, and she scampered into it quickly, huge tits flipping and swinging and bare ass jiggling. As she slid onto the seat, I saw that one of her breasts had slipped entirely free of its pathetic covering and was quivering bare, the triangle of white cotton lying on its upper curve like an envelope on a creamy-white pillow. I have truly seen watermelons smaller than my Millie's tits.

I pointed it out, and she quickly tucked her enormous nipple back into its lewdly clinging sheath with a seething look at me. Then--I was so proud of her--she said bravely, "Let's go, Jeff! I can't wait to hit the water!"

As I started the car, she asked timidly, "Are the sandals okay?" I looked down at her feet. She was wearing her tiniest and most revealing sandals, just white-leather soles held to her pretty bare feet by a few strips of matching leather an eighth of an inch wide. She was getting into the spirit of the thing.

"Those are fine, Millie. Perfect." Somehow I didn't think she wanted to be called "Big Tits" just then.

Millie kind of scrunched down in the seat as I drove, trying to make herself small--not possible, but she was trying anyway. She drew her shapely bare legs up on the seat and huddled against the door, arms crossed over her chest. It was hopeless. The curve of bare tit exposed under her arm was twice as big as my forearm. She looked naked, with only the two white strings across her body--one at her hips, one a little above her waist. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered.

I pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store. "Jeff, what are you doing?" she squeaked. "Don't stop here!"

"We need sunblock," I said. "Lots of it. Sit tight, I'll be back in just a second." I left her shivering on the seat and went inside.

I watched the car as I stood in line, and no one came near--until just before I went back out. Some guy walked past the driver's door, glanced inside, and took a full two steps before he stopped dead in his tracks.

He did the funniest slow-motion doubletake I've ever seen. His head slowly swiveled around on his neck, and he looked back at the car; but Millie's seat blocked his view. Just as he started to turn around and go back, I was approaching my door and warned him off with a small smile and a shake of my head. He grinned, shrugged, and walked on. A few steps away, though, he looked back and gave me a wink and a "thumbs up" sign. I just grinned and got in the car.

Millie was fuming. "No more stops, okay?" she grumbled.

"No more stops," I agreed. "We really did need sunblock, baby. Especially you."

"I guess."

We drove on in silence.

I don't think I've mentioned how hard my dick was during this trip or how much my balls ached before we got there. My beautiful, big-titted wife sitting next to me on the car seat, wearing what amounted to a cut-up handkerchief and a few feet of string, was making me painfully horny. And I couldn't see doing anything about it before that night.

After almost an hour, Millie had calmed down a bit. Traffic was light in town, and on the highway, what with the way she was sitting, anyone in the occasional bus or truck couldn't see much. "Are we getting close?" she asked.

"Just a few more miles. Look, you can see the ocean." we had just crested a rise, and there it was, glittering blue in the middle distance.

Millie looked at it with a strange expression on her cute baby face. Her cheeks were bright pink. "Jeff, I'm so scared," she whispered.

"I know, baby," I said comfortingly. "It'll be okay. You'll see." I took her hand, and she gripped it tightly. I felt the humming tension in her muscles as she clung to it.
Finally, we were there. Following the directions given in the magazine, I turned off the two-lane blacktop onto an unpaved road, marked only by a small wooden sign with the silhouette of a very fat woman and an arrow.

Millie looked at me with a questioning, puzzled expression. "What was on that sign?" she asked. Evidently women weren't as quick to recognize that outline as men were.

I followed the road toward the beach, and suddenly it widened into a large parking area. The beach was still fifty yards or more distant. There were cars and trucks and SUVs and RVs parked here and there, maybe thirty or forty of them. "Lots of people here today," I observed.

"M-maybe we sh-should have come on a w-w-weekday," stammered Millie. I looked at her. She was pale, and her eyes were so wide I could see the whites all around her sea-blue irises. She was terrified.

"Don't be afraid, baby," I said. You're in for a surprise." I got out of the car.

When I walked around to her side, she was still huddled up against the door. I opened it and she whimpered. "Come on, baby. Time to pay off your bet."

Reluctantly, she got out and crouched by the open door, her hands pathetically trying to find a way to hide herself. It wasn't happening.

She finally, slowly stood up. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and looked at me with a surprising calm. "Okay, Jeff," she said. "I'm ready. What's the thing I don't know?"

"Wait a minute," I said. "Sunblock first. Put your hands on the car roof and spread your legs."

"Here?" she asked, shocked. We were out in the open, though no one seemed to be in sight.

"Better down on the beach?" I asked matter-of-factly. She chewed on that for a second, then did as I said.

I started with her pretty, almost-bare feet. I had once gotten sunburned feet, any it was misery. As I worked my way up her deliciously curvy legs, rubbing in the soothing, oil-based sunblock, it occurred to me that though this wasn't in my plan, it could become an important part of it.

I oiled her pale, fleshy thighs, taking care to rub it in well--especially the inner surfaces of her legs. The higher up I massaged her with the oil, the pinker her face got: by the time I was oiling the tender skin near her pussy, her mouth was open and she was breathing a bit faster.

I poured the oil over her bare, creamy-white ass, and I whispered, "Remind you of anything?" She nodded, then lifted it up to me, bending over slightly, as I rubbed it all over her fabulous big bottom. I did her back, then poured a quarter-cup or so into my hand and reached around her to smear it all over her bare belly.

I slid my oily hands all over her torso; so much skin was left bare, I was oiling practically all of her. I slid my slippery hands up underneath her wonderful tits and oiled her there, where the sun could never reach, then turned her around and poured more oil all over her almost-bare, enormous, magnificent tits.

Millie was so into it, she forgot to look around. She just stood there, leaning back against the car with her eyes dreamily closed, as I oiled and massaged and hefted and kneaded and pressed and caressed her heavy, sensitive tits. She had forgotten all about the beach.

I slid my hands under her tiny bra and began to oil her big nipples. "Ooo, what--what are you doing?" she breathed.
"This fabric is so thin you could get a sunburn through it," I murmured. I stroked and rubbed her sensitive knobs, pulling at her oily tips and letting them pop from my fingers. She hissed and sighed. I twisted and kneaded them in my fingers till I felt her shiver.

Then I pulled her little nipple-hiders back into place. She gasped, "Don't stop.... Oh..." as I slipped my greasy hand beneath her G-string and stroked her smooth, bare pussy. I poured a little oil into her suit bottom and spread it over her mound, and slipped a finger slyly inside her slit and oiled her swollen clit and pussy lips.

She looked at me through slitted eyes and smiled. "Afraid I'm going to get a sunburn there?" she whispered. "Want me to hold my cunt open and toast my pussy meat in the sun?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Big Tits," I whispered back.

"Have I ever told you how much I love it when you call me that?"

I slid one finger all the way up her pussy and twisted it around and around. "Maybe I should call you Juicy Cunt, too," I said.

She giggled. "I'd like that too," she said as I fingerfucked her juicy cunt. I finally took my hand away. She shivered a little, and after a moment, she opened her eyes.

She hadn't forgotten where she was and what she was doing. But now her face was flushed with excitement, and she was all but humming with sexual tension. "Take me to the beach now, Jeff. I don't care who sees me or what they think. As long as you want me, I don't care."

I kissed her, and she kissed me back--a long, hard, deep kiss. "I love you," I whispered.

"I know. And I love you, too. Let's go while I still feel sexy."

We adjusted her tiny suit, I got our blanket and umbrella and the small ice chest from the trunk, and we started walking toward the ocean.

I had her walk in front of me. I enjoyed the sight of my all-but-naked wife walking through the sand; the effort made her big bare ass roll and bounce, and I could see the sides of her huge tits swing and wobble from side to side from behind her. "You look good, baby," I said as I watched her.

"Thanks," she said without looking back at me. I saw that her hands were still trembling.

There was a low, grassy ridge to climb just before we reached the sand, and on its crest was a sign, knee high and maybe three feet wide. I didn't know there was a sign there, but it was perfect and the timing couldn't have been better.

WELCOME TO CHICAS GRANDES BEACH!

it said, in capital letters a foot high. Below, in smaller lettering, it said:

Where the hottest girls in the world come to play!

As featured in CURVY Magazine, May, 2008!

Millie looked at me. "'Chicas Grandes'--that means 'Big Girls,' doesn't it?"

"Yep."

She looked at me skeptically. "This is a beach for fat chicks?"

"Not fat. Curvy, like you. And for men who appreciate and love them."

"So every guy here is going to like the way I look?" She was beginning to smile.

I grinned at her. "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, baby. You're going to be the hottest babe they've ever seen." I smiled at her doubtful, but hopeful, expression. "I told you I was going to prove it someday. Today is that day."

Millie stood a little straighter, and seemed to have an air of--anticipation. We went over the ridge and saw the beach for the first time. We looked around as we walked down the small slope to the sand

What we saw stopped Millie in her tracks.

In front of us and to our left, there was a woman much fatter than Millie, though her tits weren't as big, wearing a bikini almost as small. She was dancing. A small group of men was gathered around her, watching avidly as she wiggled and giggled, shaking her large tits and bouncing her big belly. After a particularly good shimmy, the men would whistle and clap. Nearby, there was a mixed group of men and women watching; the girls were all heavy, some very large, some just slightly plump, but all wore remarkably tiny swimsuits. Most of them had men's arms around their waists or draped over their shoulders. One pair was kissing, and rather intimately. Farther on, there were three women sunbathing; all three were topless, and one was lying on her back.. They were all big, with broad fleshy thighs and thick waists.

To our right were similar scenes; a couple, the woman just short of grossly fat, making out in the sand; her swimsuit was a one- piece, but a daring one that left most of her huge ass exposed. The man's hand was stroking it sensuously. A circle of people around a campfire, the girls all fat, the men all staring and smiling. Plump girls in suits of various sizes playing volleyball for an appreciative audience of at least a dozen men. And everywhere were couples like us, ordinary or even great-looking men and large, or curvy, or chubby women sitting on blankets and watching the scene together. Bikinis seemed to be the norm, but none were as small as Millie's.

Everywhere, too, were wandering men, singly or in groups of two or three or four, walking in the sand and frankly ogling the girls. None seemed to mind, and I saw some even preening or posing as the men stopped to stare at them. Millie's big blue eyes were wide, looking everywhere, taking it all in.

"Holy shit." The voice came from behind us. As we turned, another voice said, "I'm in love."

Behind us were three guys. I might as well have been invisible. They were all staring open-mouthed at my wife. "Oh, my God," said one as Millie turned around. "Look at those tits." "I am totally in love," said another, evidently the source of the second voice we heard.

To my total shock and surprise, Millie smiled brightly. "Thanks, fellas, but I'm taken," she said, threading her arm through mine. She winked at them, and we started down toward the sand.

I heard one of them mutter, "Lucky son of a bitch." Millie heard him too, and she giggled.

"I think I'm going to like it here," she said. She seemed almost euphoric, and no longer self-conscious at all. I couldn't believe the sudden change from the terrified Millie who was cowering on the car seat less than an hour before.

As we walked along, we heard "Holy shit!" "Day-yum!" "Oh, my God!" and the like, the whole way. And Millie smiled more and more broadly. She took to the attention like a bird that is finally uncaged takes to the air. She loved it.

As we walked along, we also often heard "Shit," or "Oh, crap," in a disgusted tone. The third or fourth time we heard that, Millie looked the question at me.

"They're looking at your hands," I said. It was true; I had watched the reactions. Millie still looked puzzled. "They're noticing your wedding ring," I clarified with a grin. Millie laughed, delighted, and she absolutely sparkled after that.

We were heading down to the water. I noticed a little extra swivel to her hips as she walked, a little extra jiggle and swing to her huge tits.

The wandering, ogling men seemed to be casually drifting our way. I wasn't surprised. Millie looked naked from a distance, with her pale creamy skin and tiny white bikini--and of course from behind, she essentially was naked. On top of that, any man with eyes would notice her tits at a hundred yards.

The men were gathering around to stare at her, walking nearby, pacing us. Though they kept at a discreet distance, say 20 or 25 feet, they made no pretense of doing anything but eating her alive with their eyes. And from the looks they gave her, their eyes were starving.

Millie's nipples were swelling. Her giant "puffies" were blatantly visible through the stretchy fabric, and her long, fat tips stuck out like a couple of video-game joysticks. With every awed exclamation, they seemed to get stiffer and her knobs more inflated. She knew it, too. I saw her glance downward and saw her cheeks grow pink.

And I saw her smile. She wasn't embarrassed. She was proud.

I had been waiting to see that smile on Millie's sweet face since I first met her. "Give 'em a show, baby," I whispered, encouraging her. She giggled and walked even more sexily, and she let everything she had bounce and wobble freely.

Correction: she *made* everything she had bounce and wobble freely. She was absolutely loving it, and we weren't even down to the water yet.

There were at least 20 men around us when we finally picked a spot. I spread out the blanket, but I left the umbrella on the sand. We might need it later when the sun got high, but for now it was comfortably warm.

Millie made a big show of settling down on the blanket. First she kicked off her sandals so she was barefoot; then she went around and pulled out all the edges, so it was completely flat and wrinkle-free on the sand.

That, of course, required her to either squat or bend over. She did both, alternately. The views were spectacular. Her broad, round, perfect ass, displayed entirely bare; her unbelievably huge tits, swinging and dangling freely, only her nipples covered, and those barely; her swollen pussy lips, clearly visible under her thin, obviously sopping-wet, plastered-to her-crotch white G-string; and not to forget, her curvy, beautiful bare legs and pretty little feet. The men's tongues were all but hanging out as they watched her tease them.

She finally sat down and began to pose and stretch, ignoring them entirely. She showed them no mercy, displaying everything she had with grace and sensual pleasure. "You're really getting into this, aren't you?" I whispered.

She replied in kind, her lips hardly moving. "It's like being surrounded with Jeffs," she whispered. "They all think I'm hot. I never felt like this before in my life."

"Enjoy it, Big Tits," I whispered. "You deserve it. Just remember who loves you."

She looked up at me, her eyes warm. "Let's make out," she suddenly said in her normal voice, so the watching men could all hear. "I want you to hold me and kiss me and feel me all over." She lay back with her arms--and her legs--wide.

I heard a couple of the oglers groan. I lay down beside her, and she whispered, "I'll show you I know who loves me." She lunged at me, and we were instantly in a Hollywood clinch. Her arms around me, her tits against my chest, her tongue in my mouth, and her legs wrapped around mine. She started grinding her pussy against me, and I could imagine the effect on those watching her bare ass undulating as she did it.

I got into the spirit of it. I stroked and fondled her all over, oblivious of the gasps and hisses and moans of our audience. They seemed to make Millie even hotter, though. "Feel my tits more," she whispered into my mouth. "Let them see you feel them all over. Feel my ass..."

We made out like we were teenagers in the back seat of a '57 Chevy, and like we were alone. Millie was holding and squeezing and massaging my dick through my swimsuit, openly, knowing that by this time maybe fifty men and not a few women were watching the show. I was pulling and twisting and playing with her huge knobs through her suit, and pink crescents of her swollen aureolae were peeking out from her overmatched cotton cups. She was gasping and nearing orgasm as she sucked on my tongue and kneaded my stiff cock with her pretty hand.

As the crowd watched eagerly, Millie stiffened and shuddered, rolling onto her back and crying out in full-on, shivering orgasm in front of everyone. She was really coming, but she was also showing off for our audience, She let her body go, letting it shudder and jerk convulsively, wildly, shaking all over and pumping her generous, bare hips with her thighs spread wide like she was being fucked by King Kong. Her tits, trapped between her arms, slipped free of her bra top and vibrated like gallons of white merengue topped with balls of pink foam, her thumb-sized teats pointing at the sky and shaking. She was pulling her G-string tight, and the spreading wetness at her plainly bald and deep-split crotch was keeping it plastered to her clearly visible, swollen cuntlips. It was soaked and almost transparent, and every man there could see her most intimate secrets as she shuddered in blistering orgasm for almost a full minute.

When she finally stopped shaking, the watching crowd erupted in cheers, whistles and applause. Millie looked at them foggily over the mountains of her exposed tits and swollen nipples and smiled and nodded her thanks, stroking her soaking-wet crotch. Then she slipped a hand beneath her G-string and started to finger herself.

I moved back and just sat and watched with the rest as Millie pulled her bra all the way off and worked her fingers in her barely-hidden pussy in front of the crowd. To my astonishment--and everyone's--she rolled over, got awkwardly up on her knees, then stood up, without ever stopping her masturbation. She was fingerfucking herself in her tiny G-string, standing up in a lewd crouch with her unbelievable tits bare and waggling with the motion on her arm pumping her fingers in her pussy. She began turning around and around, obviously wanting everyone to see her from all sides as she worked her cunt. "Talk to me," she quavered. "Tell me I look good..."

The crowd, including me, erupted in shouts of encouragement. "You look great, baby!" "You're beautiful!" "Whatta honey!" "Shake those titties!" "Show us that big bare ass!" "Whooo!" "Never seen anything like you, mama!"

And of course, "Take it off!"

A split second later, we were all shouting for Millie to shed the G-string and cum naked for us. She was shivering, her orgasm coming close, and I could see the desperation on her face as she looked at me. I nodded, and my sweet Millie pulled the string at her hip and the G-string fell to the blanket around one ankle. She kicked it away and crouched lower, and we all saw her two pretty fingers frantically sawing in and out of her bald, plump, red and glistening pussy--and she came naked in front of us all, even harder than before. Everything she had jiggled and waggled and shook; she tossed her tits skyward and bounced them as hard as she could, and lifted her other pretty hand to stretch and pop a fabulous nipple as she squatted lower and lower and rubbed her clit till we thought it must burst into flame. Then she peaked, screaming "I'm HOT!" at the top of her lungs--

And collapsed into a shivering heap on the blanket, nerveless and unconscious. I knelt by her instantly, and found her limp with her eyes rolled back in her head. I looked up at the crowd, "She's okay," I said. "She's just fainted." Someone handed me a beach towel to put over her, and I arranged her in a more comfortable position and let her rest.

A lot of the watchers, men and women, came up to express concern, and wonder, and envy. I thanked them, but said little. After a while, they had all drifted off to ogle other women.

Millie came to, or woke up, not long after she had passed out. She was a little disoriented. "Are we still at the beach?" she asked. "That seems like it was days ago.".

I recalled the same feeling when I blacked out from a chokehold in a high school wrestling match. "It was about fifteen minutes ago. We haven't even been here that long. Do you remember what you did?"

She blinked, slowly. "I remember making out with you in front of the men--and I remember cumming--and then I--I got up and--" She swallowed and looked at me, dumbstruck. "Did I really feel myself off topless and then cum naked in public?" Her face was bright pink.

I held up the two parts of her bikini. She gasped, realizing that she was still naked under the towel. "That was fifteen minutes ago?"

"Sure was."

She looked at me. "Take me home, Jeff."

I tried to reassure her. "It's okay, baby. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that. Take me home."

"Then why--"

"Jeff. Listen to me." She lifted a finger like she was lecturing me. "I want you to take me home because I want you to fuck me. Hard. And more than once. And I don't want to do it here. Okay?"

I smiled broadly. "But the bet was, we stay till it gets dark."

"The point was to get me to show myself off here and get to enjoy it, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So how about if I walk the length of the beach, both ways, stark naked in front of everybody, and then ride naked all the way home? Will that do?"

I stared at her. "Okay," I said. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Millie?"

She cracked up, and so did I. True to her word, she stood up, dropped the towel, and we started walking down the beach.

"Tell me what I'm wearing, Jeff," she said. "I want to hear you tell me." Her nipples were swelling again.

"Nothing, Millie," I said. "You're barefoot and completely naked, with a shaved pussy and your big tits and fat ass sticking out bare. Your knobs are all swollen and your bare cunt is red and dripping, and everybody can see you're ready to fuck. You have to walk like this in public and let anybody look who wants to, and you aren't allowed to hide yourself at all. How's that?"

"Oh, God, Jeff--you can"t imagine how hot that makes me." She was trembling. We were already maybe fifty yards from where we left her bikini and sandals lying on the blanket. "Yesterday this would have been my worst nightmare because I was fatandugly. Today it's a dream come true because I'm totally hot and sexy and every guy here wants to suck my big tits and fuck my juicy pussy. And I have to walk naked in front of them all."

"With your swollen knobs sticking out bare and your cunt juice dripping down your bare legs."

She shivered and almost lost her balance. "I want to stay naked till your dick is in my pussy, Jeff. I want you to fuck me fresh from my naked walk in public. And I want you to make me do it again."

"Huh? Make you do it?"

"I want you to bet me that I have to ride here naked and barefooted, and then I have to use a big dildo till I cum, with nothing on but shiny oil, out on the public beach in front of all those staring guys. And I'm gonna fold on the next card so I have to do it." Millie looked at me, her face pink, her eyes desperate like when she wanted me to make her pull off her G-string. I understood now that she wasn't asking for permission; she wanted to be made to do it. "I want to have to do it, like I did today, Jeff. I want that. Okay?"

"Okay. Go over there to to those guys with the boombox and tell them you'll dance naked for them. Then do it. I'll wait here."

We were near the end of the beach, and there was a group of young men, college kids maybe, gathered around a small fire with a CD player going. They were all staring at the naked, big-titted woman walking down the beach. Millie looked at them, shivering. Then she kissed me and whispered "Thank you," and started walking toward them.

As I watched her bumping her bare, wet cunt in their faces and lifting and shaking her tits by the nipples, I thought: Well, this worked out way better than I'd hoped. I won't even need the second part of my plan.

When I take her to the Chubbies strip club tomorrow night, she won't just be watching from a back table and learning that guys like to watch plump women strip naked.

Millie is going to be up on the stage.

As she ran back to me, gasping with happiness and excitement, I decided to make her go back and hold her shaved pussy open for them. Then we'd start back down the beach.

Life was going to be exciting from now on, I thought.

And it is. You have NO idea.
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Continue reading Teaching Millie She's Hot, Part I; The Poker Game

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