My wife Alexa decided that we should take a weekend trip up to Napa from San Francisco to get away from the city for a few days. She was always dragging me on these little Northern California road trips because she said that it’s good for your mind to have new experiences. I am more of a home body myself and would have just as well spent the entire weekend at home browsing the internet. But Alexa is pretty willful, so I usually let her have her way to avoid a big fight. We did a one of those group wine tours in which a tour bus drove us around to different wineries to do wine tastings. It was a beautiful day and I was enjoying the scenery as we drove past the sunny fields of grapes, arrayed in neat rows. Alexa is more outgoing and social than I am and she made friends with these three guys who worked at a VC firm in the city. I didn’t like them at all. They were big and loud and they drank too much. They reminded me of privileged ivy league frat boys even though they were already in their thirties. But Alexa thought they were hilarious and she got a little too drunk right along with them. In fact, she went back and sat with them on the bus, leaving me by myself, which I found a little annoying. As we were getting off the bus to visit the last winery of the day, I rushed to catch up with my wife and her new friends. “Hey, wait up, you guys,” I panted as I ran up to the group. “Lookit this little guy, trying to play catch up!” laughed this fellow Peter. He grabbed me roughly in a headlock and started tousling my hair while I struggled vainly in his iron grasp. He was over 6 feet tall and maybe 200 lbs, whereas I am only 5’8” and about 150 lbs. Not to mention the fact that I spend more time on my computer than the gym. The annoying part was that Alexa just laughed along with Peter’s two friends as the big oaf manhandled me. Other people laughed along too. When Peter finally deigned to release me, I was red-faced, my hair was a mess, and my shirt had gotten untucked. “Tisk, tisk, Peter,” my wife laughed. “What have you done to my poor husband?” Alexa came over to me and started straightening my hair with her fingers. “Just a little roughhousing,” said Peter, cracking his knuckles like the big primate that he was. “Ach, look at you, Sheldon,” my wife said. “Your shirt came all untucked.” Alexa started poking my shirt back in. I felt a little humiliated to have my wife babying me like this in front of everyone. “Alright, alright, I can do it.” I pushed my wife away impatiently. “Oh, ok, snappy,” she laughed. She stepped back and put her hands on her hips as she watched my rearrange myself. “I mean it wasn’t MY idea for that lummox to grab me like that.” I pointed an accusing finger at Peter. “What? Me? A lummox?” asked Peter in a falsetto voice. He put his hand on his chest in mock indignation. “Why I never!” His friends all broke out in laughter, braying like the donkeys they were. “Well, just stop roughing up my hubby and he won’t hurt your tender sensibilities,” said Alexa. But then, to my amazement, she simply took Peter by the arm and escorted he and his pals into the wine tasting room. I was left standing in the courtyard to bear the snickering of other tour members who had observed my humiliation. My wife and her pals had a grand old time drinking up all the wine and not spitting it out the way the tasters showed us. I was mortified by how loud and obnoxious they were acting, shouting inappropriate comments about the wine taster’s cleavage and whatnot. But Alexa just laughed right along with these almanbahis şikayet cretins, slapping Peter’s thick chest in her merriment. I was actually relieved when the manager came out and asked us to leave. We had to go wait in the bus for a while until the more civilized members of the group were finished with their tasting. Of course Peter had managed to swipe a bottle on the way out and he and his pals and my own wife passed the bottle around as we waited on the bus. It really annoyed me how my wife had basically ignored me the whole day and hung out with these uncouth morons. They might be wealthy finance guys, but they acted like hooligans in fancy suits. I intended to have a little chat with Alexa about all this nonsense when we got back to our hotel room that night. The problem was that when we got back to the hotel, as we were waiting in the lobby for the elevator, Peter threw a wrench in the works. “Alexa, Alexa,” said Peter with a slur in his voice. “Come down to the hot tub and party with us.” The jerk had his arm around my wife’s shoulder which I found totally inappropriate, but I didn’t want to risk him giving me another headlock so I kept my mouth shut. “Aww, Peter, I’m sorry, I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” said my wife, swaying drunkenly in his embrace and trying to hold onto him for support. “Fuck, just wear your underwear, no one cares,” said Peter. I was disgusted by the spittle flying from his drunken lips. “Shh, you are terrible,” laughed my wife. She slapped his muscular chest again as she had been doing all night. “But maybe I can wear a t-shirt and some shorts. What do you think, Sheldon? Would you mind if I joined Peter and his friends?” “Wet T-SHIRT party, boys!” shouted Peter to his pals who were leaning against the wall for support. “Alexa is gonna wear a t-shirt in the hottub!” “Awesome!” shouted the other two douchebags. “Omigod, you guys are terrible,” laughed my wife. “I’ll go get changed and meet you at the hot tub in just a few minutes.” Then the elevator arrived and we got on. “What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded of my wife. “You can’t go around, carousing with those asshats all night in the hot tub! And what’s this wet t-shirt business? That doesn’t sound very ladylike to me!” “Oh Sheldon,” said my wife, rolling her eyes drunkenly. “Pish, you are making a big deal out of nothing! I’m just trying to have fun, meet new people, try new things!” “Like show some strange guys what your boobs look like in a wet t-shirt?” I squeaked indignantly. “Totally improper.” “Improper!” scoffed my wife. Then we got to our floor and she stumbled down the hall toward our room. “Um, I can’t find my key,” she said, digging around in her purse. I deftly produce my card key and swiped the door open. “Thank you, darling,” she said and gave me a sloppy kiss. As soon as she got inside the room, my wife started stripping. Off came her top and then she dropped her shorts and stood there contemplating herself in the mirror, wearing just her bra and panties. “I’m still looking pretty good I guess,” she said critically. And she did too. She had a nice hourglass figure with large breasts and and a nice big ass. Alexa unhooked her bra and her big boobs came popping out. She weighed them in her hands for a moment. “Do you think the boys will find my boobs too saggy?” “I mean, you can’t, you can’t just,” I stammered. “You can’t SHOW them your boobs, Alexa!” “I’m going to wear a t-shirt, silly,” she replied defensively. And she grabbed a big oversized shirt that she liked to wear almanbahis canlı casino as pajamas on warm evenings. “See, I’m mostly covered up.” The t-shirt material was pretty thin from years of washing and Alexa’s hard nipples were poking through the shirt while her unleashed breasts jiggled back and forth. “Jeez, Alexa, your tits are bouncing all over the place.” “Do they look hot?” My wife headed back out of the room in just the t-shirt. “Yeah, a little TOO hot if you ask me,” I said, trailing after my willful wife. “Can’t you put a bra on at least?” “Come on Sheldon, let me live a little,” she said as I followed her down the hall back to the elevator. A husband and wife dressed in formal dinner attire passed us and looked at my wife’s skimpy outfit with shock as she padded bare-legged down the hall in just her t-shirt, knockers bouncing every which way. I put my hand over my face and avoided their gaze in embarrassment. “Live a little? Honey, you are drunk and you want to go jump in a hot tub half naked with some strange men.” I was trying to sound reasonable as we boarded the elevator. “Pish,” she snorted. “They aren’t strange. I’ve been hanging out with Peter and the boys all day. They are hilarious! You can be such a stick in the mud sometimes, Sheldon. Can’t you loosen up a little?” I just scratched my head as we got back to the lobby. Luckily no one was around to see my half-naked wife. She wandered aimlessly out onto one of the patios but it seemed to be a dead end. A couple of Hispanic bellhops were smoking a cigarette out there on their break. “Hey sexy lady!” said one of the guys with a thick Mexican accent. He and his pal were looking my wife up and down with carnal intent. “Hi!” said my wife with a little wave of her hand that made her boobs bounce even more. “Which way to the hot tub?” “You gonna get in the hot tub in THAT outfit? Just the t-shirt with no bra?” asked the bellhop excitedly. His friend guffawed and punched him in the ribs. “How do you know that I’m not wearing a bikini top under this?” asked my wife innocently as she touched her boobs. “They jiggling baby, they going all over the place,” chuckled the horny bellboy. He was a slimy looking character with pock marked cheeks. “Oh.” My wife seemed too drunk to care that these creeps were checking her out. “Well, anyway, which way to the hot tub?” “You gotta go back through the lobby and down that other hall,” said the first bellhop. “Hey, man, let’s show her,” said his pal. Then he opened the door for my wife. “After you, lady.” “Wow, thanks, you guys are nice!” said my wife brightly and she padded back into the lobby. The two bellhops barged in front of me so they could check out my wife’s ass, just barely covered by her long t-shirt. “I hope you aren’t totally naked under that shirt,” said the first bellhop to my wife, giving his pal a lecherous grin. “We got rules against that.” “I’m not, I’m not,” insisted my wife. “Look, I’ve got panties on.” And she lifted the back of her shirt up to show them. The two perverted bellhops chortled with satisfaction as they got a nice view of my wife’s ass in her skimpy panties. “Oh, uh, actually the rule is you can’t wear no panties, you better take them off,” said the other guy. But my wife wasn’t THAT drunk and she turned to wag a finger at them. “Now don’t be naughty you two, I know that can’t be right. You just want to see my bum! I’m keeping my panties on though. Oh, here’s the hot tub, and here are my friends. HI Peter!” My wife went running out onto the patio where Peter almanbahis casino and his two cronies were waiting in the hot tub for her. They had more drinks of course, the lushes. The two bellboys decided to hang out discretely a few yards away, probably hoping to catch a peek of my wife’s t-shirt once it got wet. “Ooh, looking GOOD Alexa,” said Peter eyeing my wife’s body. “Get down in here, we got a couple more bottles of wine and the water is fine.” “That rhymes,” said my wife as she daintily lowered herself down into the bubbling water of the hot tub. The hem of her shirt went ballooning out and she had to push it down under the water. I watched with sick trepidation as her shirt got soaked halfway up to her chest, but she sat on a higher step of the hot tub and her breasts didn’t get submerged, so I sighed in relief. But it still felt a little weird to be hanging out here watching my wife party with these obnoxious men who we barely knew. “Aww, come on! You didn’t get your whole top wet!” complained Peter. “I thought you were going to show us your wet t-shirt.” “My husband would probably freak out if I did that,” she laughed. “I better have another drink first.” “That’s true, once you are sauced up enough, you won’t care WHAT he says about it,” agreed Peter, pouring her a huge glass of wine. I squinted at him with hatred but I bit my tongue and stood by awkwardly. The two bellhops produced more cigarettes and took up a position where they could clearly see my wife. They were biding their time. My wife downed her wine pretty quickly and let the glass fall right over, she was so drunk. “Oh wow, this water feels SOO GOOD,” slurred my wife and she sank down another step, until she was neck-deep in the tub, her boobs totally submerged. Her shirt was probably totally transparent at that point and the two horny Mexicans perked up and were glancing over with interest but my wife kept herself modestly submerged for the moment. “Yeah, it’s nice,” said Peter. “I’m glad you settled down and got your shirt nice and wet too. I’m looking forward to seeing it.” “Why are you so excited to see my shirt wet Peter?” My wife looked over at me coquettishly. “Oh, I think you know why,” said Peter with a wolfish grin. “Show us your boobs!” blurted one of his pals. He was obviously even more hammered than my wife. “Tony, stop it!” laughed my wife. She splashed him in the face playfully. “Now that’s just unseemly,” I yelped. “Asking another man’s wife to show her, her breasts!” I could feel my face getting hot and my stomach was roiling with anxiety and shame. “Look at him, he’s getting ready to piss himself,” laughed the third guy. “Yeah, never mind him, baby,” coaxed Peter. “Just slide up one step so we can see what how your shirt looks when it’s wet.” “What, like this?” asked my wife innocently. She looked me in the eye as she obeyed Peter’s order and lifted herself back out of the water so that her breasts were exposed. And they really were exposed. That old thin t-shirt left NOTHING to the imagination once it was wet. It clung completely to her big round breasts, outlining those luscious orbs perfectly. We could even see the pink of her nipples showing through. Alexa tried tugging the shirt out a bit to lend her some modesty, but it just snapped back in place so she shrugged and put her elbows behind her, up on the edge of the hot tub. “So, what do you guys think? You like them?” she asked. Peter’s two buddies hooted with excitement at the sight of my wife’s amazing rack and the two Mexicans came running over to get a better look. “¡Ay caramba! Mamacita!” shouted the aroused bellhops. “Eh, they are adequate I suppose,” commented Peter with a judicious pout. “Jesus, Alexa, what are you putting on a gosh darn peepshow for the whole world over here?” I demanded weakly.