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Wet T-Shirt


Right from the age of fourteen I wanted to be a model. I was always saving-up my pocket money to spend on fashion magazines - and must have bored the pants off my friends - as I was always talking about one model or another. When I eventually left school I had all the right qualifications - I was five feet nine, with fair hair, blue eyes and curves in the right places. The only problem was I was terribly shy, and modest too. I didn't even like my mum seeing me in my undies.

So, as a temporary measure I took a job as a typist in an advertising agency, and left home when I got my own little room in Earl's Court. Most lunch-times, Jason, one of the commercial artists in the office, used to chat me up and we became quite pally.

When I told him about wanting to be a model, he didn't laugh at me but said he might be able to help. He asked me if I'd been in any beauty contests and I said I'd be much too shy to parade up and down in a bikini.

But one morning I got a letter from a local night-spot to say that I'd been accepted as an entrant for their Miss Wet T-Shirt contest! Jason had given them my name. The letter said that they would provide all the "gear" and all I had to do was turn up with a air of high heeled shoes.

That lunch-time I gave Jason a piece of my mind, but he said if I really wanted to be a model this was a good way to start - and the publicity would do me no harm. I must admit I was in two minds, but very reluctantly I agreed to be a contestant.

On the big night I was terribly nervous on the way to the club. jason was there to meet me, and showed me to the changing room and placed me in the care of one of the club's hostesses. I could have died! There were five other girls, and we all had to get undressed together. They all seemed quite happy, and we were all given a big towel, a baggy white T-shirt and a little pair of new, navy blue knickers.

When we had changed the hostess gave us a numbered card to choose, which we tied round our wrist. She said we had to go on the stage one at a time, and as we got on to it we would either be hosed down with warm water or have a bucketful thrown over us. We then had to walk across the stage, turn around slowly with our backs to the audience and wait until the last girl joined the line.

Then we had to turn again and with hands on hips walk back across the stage one by one until the judges decided upon the winner. As the first girl went out there was a loud cheer and wolf whistles from the people, I could hear the splash of water followed by laughter and whistles. Oh, what had I let myself in for? The second girl had gone, and I could hardly put one high-heeled foot in front of the other as I walked to the door.

"Now for number three," called a voice through the microphone, and as the door opened the hostess pushed me through into the dazzling glare of spotlights. I couldn't see a thing. There was a swoosh as water swirled over me, and laughter and whistling as I let out a squeal of surprise. It was cold and I was drenched. I could have died of embarrassment. The shirt stuck like glue to my body, making my breasts and nipples clearly visible. My titties seemed to have become twice their size and felt as if they would burst through the thin material. Flash cameras clicked and there were cat calls from the audience as I tried to walk, with some dignity, across the stage in my shoes which slipped and slid on the wet wood. I was almost crying when I got to the end and turned round. My shirt seemed to have shrunk and there was a big gap between it and my knickers. I didn't win! But photographers were snapping away at all of us and jason was there smiling at me - I could have kicked him in the balls.

He was still smiling when I came out of the changing room, clutching "all the gear" they'd allowed us to keep.

"Gosh, jenny, you were great," he said. Just gorgeous. Come on, I'll take you home. "

I was frosty and he had his work cut out thawing me out. When we arrived back at my place I let him come in and pour me a drink from the bottle he bought to celebrate my debut into the world of modelling! I curled up on the sofa in front of the gas fire and jason sat beside me as we sipped our drinks.

"I wasn't kidding," he said. "You really were great, you looked a million dollars and I've got the pictures to prove it."

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some coloured photos.

"I got a pal to take these with his Polaroid," he said. "Take a look,"

I almost snatched them from him. Surely this leggy blonde wasn't me? I was on the point of tears when he put his arm around me and gave me a kiss and a hug. I closed my eyes and felt so exhausted after all that had happened I could easily have dropped off. Suddenly I became aware of movement Jason was getting fresh! His left hand, which had been round my waist, had moved up and was cupping my breast, while his fingers stroked my nipples. His right hand was feeling its way up my leg - I was so surprised I didn't do a thing to stop him. I never thought Jason would be like that. His hand passed my stockingtops and came to rest on my knickers while his other one felt round my breast. He pinched my nipple and I let out a squeal at the shock; as my legs parted his hand swiftly went into the vee.

His fingers kept stroking me and I felt things happening. My knickers were getting moist, and the anticipation of things to come made me wriggle onto my side and clasp him to me. I shouldn't have done it really because it seemed to encourage him and make things easy. He was able to undo the back fastenings of my dress, and he got a hand in the top of my knickers. Slowly, but firmly, I felt them being pulled down, till they were round my knees. He was kissing me now, his firm lips on my half-open mouth, and his tongue brushed round my teeth. He pulled me upright and tugged my dress over my head. He gasped when he saw me topless, no bra, my firm breasts standing out and topped with gloriously erect nipples. He quickly pulled me beside him on the couch and I could feel a throbbing coming through the material of his trousers. I felt very daring when I pulled down his zip and pushed my hand gently inside; his prick was gi-normous, and it was throbbing itself into a frenzy.

Jason leapt up, took his shirt off, dropped his trousers and came back beside me. I put my hand inside his little white briefs and found his long hot prick, while his fingers were working over- time, teasing my pussy lips. Then jason was on top of me; kissing my breasts and nipples while his prick probed stiffly between my legs, guiding itself to the entrance. I gave a squeal as his now, huge pole nuzzled my cunt lips.

Jason pinched my nipples and my legs flew wide apart to give him full access. As jason drove into me, deeper and deeper, I was enduring shock waves from my boobs to my clit. I put my hand round his buttocks and held him close to me - I didn't want him to stop! Jason was hammering away like a piston engine and his balls were thumping against my now wet, slippery skin; his prick was pushing its way further and further inside me until I thought it would run out of road. And then, as I wrapped my legs around his back I felt a hot stream of pure joy flooding into me, and while I groaned with ecstacy, he tenderly kissed my face and boobs.

When I awoke I was alone. The gas fire was still burning and I was all wrapped up in the quilt from my bed. On the table was a note from jason. It said:

"Jenny darling, you made a model lover. I will forever be your agent. Jason xxx."

I made a decision there and then - it really was going to be a modelling life for me.


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