"Well sure. I always wear one."

"Honey, don't you realize that bras went out of style twenty years ago? No good-looking female wears one anymore. None. Not unless you're Jane Pauley or someone like that. Do me a favor and take yours off. You look better without it."

She looked at him and explained, "But if I don't wear a bra, my titties will start to sag."

"Oh honey," he sighed. "That's just an old wive's tale. Women's tits don't sag from lack of wearing a bra, but rather because of it."

She turned to him and asked, "Who said that?"

"There's been all kinds of research done at major American universities." He had to search for an answer rapidly. "Tit research they call it."

"Tit research. I never heard of such a thing."

"Oh yea. It's all the rage in research institutions. It seems that professors can't get enough of the mammary gland. They just love to study it. Its resilience and tensile strength. All kinds of things that women probably never take into consideration. Breast flesh is fascinating. Truly fascinating."

She removed her bra. She put her dress back on and noticed the effect. There was little doubt that she looked better without it. She had the kind of tits which were meant to be displayed for the public's benefit. Moreover, she felt sexier. The fabric of the dress now rubbed directly against the nipples, making them hard, making them yearn to be touched and fondled.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked.

Jim gave a quick survey and said, "Terrific. Absolutely terrific. I'm sure that Bill with have a hard-on from the minute that he lays eyes on you."

She swallowed. She just hoped that she was doing the right thing.

Bill and his lovely wife, Wanda, rang the doorbell. The instant that Sue heard the chimes, she had doubts. She couldn't believe what she was getting herself into. She had never expected that her matrimonial duties might include sleeping with her husband's friend. Things like this just weren't supposed to happen in Summerville. After all, wife-swapping belonged to another era, before the Women's Movement, back in the 1960's. Back when wives blindly did things for their husbands--no questions asked. Just feed 'em and breed 'em.

She thought about running away. But she knew that wouldn't do any good. She had already promised to go through with this silly scheme. She only wished that she was a different type of person. One who didn't mind disrobing in front of other people, or at least one who had become familiarized with casual sex.

She felt goosebumps arise on her flesh. She didn't know if they were from fear or from excitement. Even though her mind kept telling her to run, her cunt kept telling her to go through with it.

She opened the door. ......(cont)