Pantsing and Stripping Forums

In those days, family vacations were a lot different than they are today. It wasn't uncommon in the early seventies for families to load up the old station wagon and hit the road to experience all the wonders the greatest, Goddamned country on Earth had to offer. The trip itself often left bored kids with few ways to pass the time beyond looking out the window at the endless countryside dragging past. You can see why even the most mundane roadside attractions were cause for excitement back then.

I had been hoping, if I caught my dad in the right mood, that he might even let me drive the car some on this trip. I had to quickly abandon that plan after seeing how angry he was to start out. Fortunately, with my oldest stepsister now gracing us with her nude presence, I now had a much more interesting way to pass the time and didn't mind missing out on driving.

I think we were all stunned at first. The only sound came from Mary herself who was sobbing uncontrollably, and for good reason. She had just been yanked out of the shower and dragged out to the car without any clothes on. Her outfit and suitcase were still back at the house as we accelerated down the highway to begin our family vacation.

Water streaked down her bare body to soak the seat and her hair hung in dripping wet strands. Even curled into the tight ball as she was, I still found interesting bits to look at. I could see in profile the tantalizing shape of her bare bottom resting against the seat before curving up to form the start of her long legs. And even though she was trying her hardest to keep her bare chest concealed, she couldn't keep the outer portion of her large left boob from bulging out the side of her protective embrace.

With every mile marker we passed, it became less likely that Frank was bluffing or was going to turn around and retrieve her suitcase. He seemed pretty determined to teach her an unforgettable lesson about both tardiness and disrespect.

Since there’s no way he was going to stop somewhere and let her buy all new outfits, what did he intend for her to wear on this trip? Beyond what she already had on, what God had blessed her with when she was born, I didn't have a clue. Although her chest was significantly more developed, she could probably squeeze into a few of Bea's things. And mom could always share some of her clothes. But Frank would have to give his blessing to any such loans at this point. Not much chance of that happening any time soon.

I suspect, from the way she was sobbing, that she was coming to the same conclusion and knew she was in serious trouble. The other three girls in the car seemed traumatized on Mary's behalf. My other sisters spent at least the first hour in complete silence. When they did resume talking to each other, it was in hushed whispers - as if they were worried that making noise might attract attention and draw Frank's ire upon them.

Mom was also stunned into silence. She was sitting quietly with her arms folded in her lap and her head bowed. She would never dare to challenge Frank's authority or question his disciplinary tactics. But hearing her eldest daughter sobbing uncontrollably behind her, she would occasionally look up at him with a conflicted expression, like she wanted to say something. But seeing her husband's determined scowl and the way he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, she would think better of it and just go back to staring at her hands.

I would look out the window every few miles just to see if there was anything out there worth checking out. But we were still close enough to home that the terrain looked familiar to me. And before long, I was back to staring at Mary's sexy, curled up body. It felt so surreal to have a completely naked girl riding in the car right next to me! She was close enough that, if I had stretched out my arm across the bench seat, I could have touched her. I didn't, of course. A gentleman keeps his hands to himself.

It took more than an hour for Mary to stop crying. By then, the bright sun had dried her skin, but her hair was still damp. For girls, long and straight was the popular hairstyle of the time. Mary normally wore her hair straight down, only curling her bangs to create a slightly feathered look and frame her naturally beautiful face. With rarely a strand out of place, she always looked radiant and received many compliments on her long, luxurious, light brown locks. But now, without a way to brush it out, it was drying into a stringy mess. It also still had white streaks from the shampoo she had not been allowed to rinse out.

Mid-morning, we pulled over for a bathroom break. Nowadays, you might stop at a fast food place or convenience store. But back then, there used to be these little, public rest stops right next to the highway all over America. Usually built out of logs or stone, they were clean and well maintained. I think the U.S. national parks department used to take care of them.

As the car slowed to take the exit, my understandably skittish sister lifted her head and peered out her side of the car. After driving for two and a half hours, I welcomed the chance to stretch my legs and empty my bladder. I imagine Mary had to go, too. But as we pulled into a parking spot, she saw other cars parked nearby and immediately ducked down below the windowsill.

The car came to a stop, and we all piled out. But Mary remained huddled in the tightest ball possible. She seemed terrified that the other people at the rest stop would find out that a young lady was traveling cross-country with her family without a stitch of clothing on and come running up to her window to gawk.

Standing at the urinal trying to unzip my fly, I found my hands were trembling for unknown reasons. It's not like I was the one who had been forced into a naked vacation trip. I thought I must be feeling anxious on Mary's behalf and forced myself to take a calming breath. After washing and drying my hands, I absently stuck them into my pockets and felt something. Pulling out a delicate white garment, I froze. It was Mary's panties! How could I have forgotten about them?

Just then, the door opened! Lunging for the trash receptacle, I shoved my hand through the flap before another traveler caught me standing in the boys bathroom holding a pair of girl's panties. Embarrassed, I quickly exited the bathroom, officially leaving the very last scrap of Mary's clothes behind. It was probably better that I had thrown them away before she learned I had brought them and started wondering how they had ended up in my pocket.

To stretch my legs, I took a stroll to the end of the sidewalk. But I was eager to get back to the car for obvious reasons. Knowing Mary's incredible exhibition could end at any time, I didn't want to miss a second of it! So, I turned and rushed back to my assigned seat in the car.

Mary hadn't moved a muscle other than to peek anxiously over the edge of the door sill. There was no such thing as tinted windows back then. So, anyone who came close enough to that side of the car would easily be able to tell, through the clear glass, that there was a naked teenager sitting in the back seat.

The risk of that possibility is likely what caused the rather adorable blush I detected on her cheek when I sat down. She looked so miserable, on alert and braced for impending humiliation. I thought she couldn't possibly keep this up the whole trip. She would have to relax and let her guard down a little bit even if it meant sacrificing some of her precious remaining modesty. Otherwise, she was going to die from the stress!

When the car backed out and headed for the ramp, she started sobbing again. I think her new, nude reality was starting to sink in by that point. Being without clothes stripped her of certain liberties she normally took for granted. To maintain her modesty, she was essentially restricted to the car! If she couldn’t navigate a simple rest stop, how was she going to survive an entire road trip without clothes on?

Of course, she didn’t know for sure how long Frank intended to continue this punishment. The whole trip was just the most extreme scenario she could imagine. He could decide any minute that she had learned a sufficiently humiliating lesson and let her wear something. But what? All her clothes were back at the house! That fact had to be making her very nervous.

To her credit, she got her crying session under control within about twenty minutes this time. Maybe she saw crying about her situation wasn't doing her any good. Besides, it's not like she could keep it up forever.

I could also tell that being in the exact same position for hours was starting to take a toll on her. Even sitting normally, I felt the occasional need to shift my weight and find a more comfortable way of sitting. When I raised my arms behind my head to stretch out my spine, she looked over at me with an envious expression. Sitting hunched over as she was, aches had to be building all up and down her back. But to perform a similar stretch would leave her naked chest completely exposed to her leering stepbrother's hungry gaze.

From the way she started squirming in her seat and wiggling her adorable, bare toes, I guessed her circulation was being cut off and her legs were falling asleep. I looked on in eager anticipation of what was coming. It's not that I minded staring at her side, but any shift might give me the chance to see even more of her bare body! She continued squirming, holding out as long as possible before resorting to an adjustment. A naked girl must think very strategically about every move she makes. I had all the time in the world. When I saw her take a deep breath of surrender, I smiled.

Carefully rotating away from me and using the door as an extra shield for her front side, she was able to lower her feet to the floorboard. She breathed a sigh of relief as circulation resumed flowing down her shapely legs and into her tingling toes. The door may have been doing its part to preserve the modesty of her front side. Unfortunately, she had to sacrifice about three-quarters of the coverage of her back side in the process.

Having grown up together, I'd taken opportunities to admire Mary's attractive form. Even though she never wore less than a modest, one-piece swimsuit around me, I was well aware of her shapely legs and calves, and even the general shape of her impressive bottom. While she was always careful to make sure I never got to see it naked, she was helpless to stop me from looking now.

Immediately, I dropped my focus to take in the rare sight of her bare butt crack along with the creamy expanse of her pale seat. Seeing parts of her I've never been allowed before, I had to wonder if the rest of her normally covered parts were as incredibly soft and smooth as her bottom looked.

Running my eyes down her left side, I was also mesmerized by my first preview of a naked woman's general shape. From her shoulder to her broad back, her body narrowed into a petite waist before spreading out again to form her hips. It's like everywhere I looked, she had ideal feminine curves which were designed to make a man's heart race. Mine certainly was!

For the next hour, I stared at this new angle of her exposure. I particularly enjoyed whenever we hit a bump or pothole because it made the plump flesh of her naked flank jiggle enticingly. I've never had so much fun on a road trip before. How was I supposed to know my fun had barely even begun?

Around lunchtime, we pulled over at another roadside rest stop to eat. To save on meals, mom had packed sandwiches in an ice chest. After helping dad unlash it from the roof, I located a picnic table with some shade and helpfully carried the chest over it to.

Our naked passenger did not join us. Although she had been doing a slightly better job managing her emotional distress, she didn't seem to be doing that well physically. Her hair had dried in a tangled mess and her eyes were puffy and red from all the crying. She was also avoiding critical bodily functions like eating, drinking, and taking bathroom breaks.

By refusing to leave the relative safety of the car, she was only sentencing herself to more suffering. The summer sun was in full effect by now, and dad wasn't about to leave the engine on just so his insolent stepdaughter could run the air conditioner. She could crack the window, but a light breeze was no match for the rapidly heating cabin. Welp, at least without any clothes on, she didn't have to worry about heat building up under any extra layers.

She had to be relieved when we finally finished our lunch and returned to the car. I saw her fanning herself with her hands as we approached. But by the time I got close enough to see over the edge of the windowsill, she had secured both her arms back across her chest in a protective gesture. It amused me to watch her struggle to do everything she could to preserve what little secrets her body still possessed. When I sat down, I saw that her skin was glistening all over with a sheen of sweat. Trust me, it's just as sexy as it sounds!

We had traveled far enough by now that the terrain was becoming less familiar to me. Whenever we passed a particularly impressive vista, I would stare out the window at it. But my attention would always be drawn back to the more impressive vistas my naked sister was exhibiting.

The last leg of our day's journey, the longest, felt like it was never going to end. After three more grueling hours stuck in the car, we were all ready for a break and anxious to know how much longer it would be until we arrived. When I saw Mary start to get antsy, I figured out why she might have a particularly pressing, personal reason to know if we would be arriving at the motel soon. Even though she hadn't drunk anything all day, because she had skipped both our scheduled bathroom breaks, her bladder was getting full.

It was the subtle wiggle of her bare hips that first caught my attention, like she was having trouble sitting still. A few minutes after that, she started rubbing her legs against each other and looking anxiously out the windshield for any sign of the next stop. Pretty soon, she was letting out these adorable little grunts of discomfort.

If I had to guess, her bladder was about to burst. Because we were coming into a town, she ducked lower in her seat in response to the increase in traffic but continued to squirm with discomfort. We drove past gas stations and other places that would have had restrooms, but she couldn't bring herself to ask Frank to pull over. I mean, even if he did agree to stop for her, how could she possibly bring herself to walk into a restaurant or gas station full of strangers without any clothes on?

Cindy, also growing impatient, called out from the back-back seat, "how much longer?"

Mom studied the road atlas in her lap for a moment before calling back, "it looks like we're in the right town, sweetie. We should be there any minute."

A few minutes later, everyone was happy to see the flashing "vacancy" sign of the Soft Pines Motor Inn appear over the horizon. After a quick stop at the welcome desk to make a deposit and receive the room key, dad got back in the car to take us around to our unit. The motor inn was laid out in an “L” shape. Only two stories, I would estimate it had no more than a hundred units. The girls and I stared eagerly at the large, inviting swimming pool in the middle. But I think Mary was only focused on finding the bathroom.

When dad parked us right in front of our unit and went to unlock the door, you would think Mary would rush in as soon as she could. But she just sat there for several seconds peering out at the world. A naked girl is forced to consider things she wouldn't normally have to. Other than briefly that very morning when dad was dragging her out to the car, she had never been outside without any clothes on. And while a car is a poor substitute for actual clothes, it must have been hard to leave the only form of concealment she had left.

When her bladder reminded her that stalling was not an option, she looked around one last time to make sure the coast was clear, then bolted from the car. The naked and barefoot beauty obviously wanted to keep everything concealed, if possible. Three areas were of particular importance: her chest, between her legs, and her bottom. Unfortunately, with only two hands, the math didn't add up.

Giving up on her back side, she firmly blocked her crotch with one hand and did the best she could to tame her abundant, oversized bosom with the other. It was the exact pose you're imagining, the one every embarrassed girl adopts when she finds herself without any clothes on in mixed company or in public. I was more than happy to stare at her gorgeous, jiggling bottom as she ran the short distance to the motel door.

Her day had started with a rude awakening - being yanked from her shower and dragged right past the outfit she had laid out for herself and out the house still dripping. I can only ponder what it was like for her to now be entering a strange dwelling hundreds of miles away from that and every other bit of clothing she owned with no end to her nude nightmare in sight. The sheer weight of her predicament must have been terrifying to bear. When I stop to think about it, I can understand why she cried for so much of the trip.

I assume she ran straight for the bathroom. After all, that was the only thing that had convinced her to leave the relative safety of the car. Her desire to preserve modesty and propriety, no matter how intense, could not compete with raw bodily needs. That's one lesson I certainly learned over and over that summer.

Another wonderful charter!

Didn't think you could top the first chapter of build up.. but here we are! I should have neverdoubted you

Mary is going to have to tolerate a lot of things. Eventually her mortification will be overcome--already she has experienced terror when she was dragged out of the house and was given the car sauna treatment and finally had to make a mad dash for a toilet. I can't imagine how upset Father would be if his station wagon reeked of urine because Mary couldn't bring herself to leave the "safety" of the car. At least now she has a chance to finish her bath--but will there be a showdown regarding motel room towels?

Haven't read part 2 yet but 1 was great! Looking forward to the future of this story!

Everyone except Mary contributed to the task of unloading. I went onto the roof of the station wagon and passed down whatever pack or case dad ordered me to. He handed each one over to Bea or Cindy who were standing dutifully by to ferry it into the motel room. Mom was stationed on the other end to organize everything they brought her.

Not wanting to get on his bad side, the girls were quick to call out "yes sir!" and jump to do whatever Frank ordered. It was a far cry from the lackadaisical way they had been acting toward him not one day earlier. It's like they dared not show even the slightest hint of disrespect anymore for fear or receiving the Mary treatment. I admit, I was also giving my best effort to do whatever he asked of me - just in case.

Once the car was unpacked, dad left to find a service station. He needed to fill the tank, but also wanted the check out a concerning knock that had developed during the last hour of the drive.

As soon as my sisters and I were dismissed, we headed inside to ask mom if we could go for a swim. Receiving permission, we took turns changing in the bathroom before heading out. The whole time, I never saw more than the top of Mary's head peeking out from the covers on one of the room's two beds. Since she didn't have a swimsuit, I doubted she would be interested in joining us at the pool.

Laboring in the hot sun, I had worked up a sweat, and wasted no time jumping into the deep end. Cindy followed close behind, but Bea took her sweet time. She made a fuss out of picking the perfect lounge chair before spreading out her towel and easing her way into the water by way of the stairs.

True to her name (Beatrice Rose, named after her deceased grandmother) Bea couldn't have been a bigger thorn in my side. Growing up, the only time she ever gave me attention was to boss me around. She had a pretty smile, everyone said so, but with me, she only used her most derisive scowls. Even though we were practically the same age, she loved to remind me that technically she was my big sister. In her mind, that gave her permission to treat me like her servant.

If I tried to fight back or argue, she would rally her sisters for support. Mary and Cindy always sided with her, of course. Not that I was afraid of little Cindy. As the baby of the family, she was more of a follower anyway and just went along with whatever her big sisters were doing. But Mary, as the oldest, could be intimidating. And Bea knew, when they ganged up on me, I always had to back down.

So, even though she was the middle girl, Bea was the ringleader when it came to belittling me and getting under my skin. She was also definitely the one who would be the most insufferable with a big head. That's why I flinched every time a boy looked her way.

I don't think Cindy noticed how much attention she was receiving. She was cute and just starting to get a figure that filled out her modest, one-piece swimsuit nicely. But at thirteen, she was more interested in retrieving pennies from the bottom of the pool and perfecting her diving techniques than what the boys thought about her body.

At fifteen, Bea not only noticed, but savored every lingering gaze that came her way. For once, she didn't have to compete with her older, more mature sister for the boys' attention. She did not waste the opportunity but found excuses to parade back and forth between the pool and her lounger over and over, just to make the boys drool over her.

Unlike her sisters, Bea had blonde hair - shorter ringlets that bounced playfully about her head when she walked. That wasn't the only part of her that bounced. Her breasts, which had been swelling rapidly of late, completely filled the top of her swimsuit and jiggled beneath the tight fabric of her suit.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she laid out on the lounger facing the pool on her stomach but propped up on her elbows. That pose caused her cleavage to bulge out the small scoop in the neck. The suit was designed to be as modest as possible. But that did not stop a creative young lady who was determined to show off her newly grown assets for an appreciative audience.

I gravitated toward several boys from other families who were staying at the hotel. It was fun horsing around with them and racing to see who could get across the pool the fastest. We also took frequent trips to the diving board.

I had grown accustomed, whenever I met someone my age, to them gawking at my beautiful stepsisters. So, I wasn't surprised by how many of our games had to be paused when Cindy climbed out of the pool to take a turn on the diving board or when Bea decided to change lounging positions.

Seeing how much attention Bea and Cindy were receiving only made me chuckle to myself. These boys had no idea about the other sister, the one with even more curves and no clothes, hiding out in our motel room. When mom finished up and came out to join us, I saw my opportunity to blow someone's mind.

Wading over to a boy named "Johnny", with whom I had struck up a nice friendship, I whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "hey, wanna see my sister naked?"

His face perked up and, naturally, he glanced over to where Bea was lounging. She was currently lying flat on her back with her face toward the sun and her eyes closed. This pose emphasized her long legs, and lean torso. But you could still appreciate the twin swells on her chest if you wanted to.

"Not her," I smiled, "even better! Just follow along. Trust me, you'll want to see this."

Johnny was understandably skeptical of my ability to deliver on my promise. But even the slimmest chance at seeing a naked girl was enough to convince him to come with me out of the pool.

I walked over to where my stepmom was lounging. At thirty-six, even as a mother of three, Patricia attracted more than her fair share of looks from the men around the pool. She had borne her three children at a young enough age for her body to bounce back. But I wasn't here to gawk at my own stepmother. I was on a mission.

"Mother, this is Johnny," I said, introducing my new friend.

Johnny bashfully shook her hand, averting his eyes before they could get him into trouble. Because she rarely wore less than a full-length dress, seeing her in even her modest swimsuit was a novelty to me. One look at her, and you could tell where her daughters got their looks from.

When I explained, with a straight face, that Johnny and I wanted to play catch and asked for the key to our motel room so I could retrieve my ball and glove, she looked at me suspiciously. She was clearly trying to protect her daughter from prying eyes. But it was an innocent request.

As she handed it over, I promised to be right back and motioned for Johnny to follow me. Approaching our room, I saw the curtains flutter and smiled. Mary must have been peeking out but retreated when she saw us coming.

Unlocking the door, I flipped the light switch and invited Johnny in. He was confused and a little uncertain. But still motivated by the chance to see a naked girl, he followed me inside. The room was empty, but the bathroom door was closed. I knew what that meant. Opening my backpack, I located my baseball and glove - essential items for any teenage boy in those days - before walking over to knock on the bathroom door.

"...occupied," came a small voice from the other side.

I smiled back at Johnny whose eyes had gotten wider. He crept closer. I think he had started to doubt my ability to deliver. But the voice lent credence to my claim that he really might get to see a naked girl as promised.

"Mary, my friend needs to use the restroom," I called back, "I know you're not using it. I saw you at the window a second ago."

A few seconds later, the door opened slightly, and Mary's frightened face peeked out, eyeing us both warily. She thought she was being careful, but through the small crack, I could see in the mirror's reflection that she had wrapped one of the bath towels around herself. I wasn't about to let her off that easily. I had promised Johnny a show and intended to deliver more than just a girl wrapped in a towel.

"Are you allowed to be wearing that?" I asked, nodding toward the mirror. Realizing her mistake, she slammed the door in my face.

When she didn't emerge, I called out, "Come on, Mary. He really has to go. Don't be rude, let us in...or I'm telling Frank."

A few seconds later, the door opened wider, and Mary stepped forth. This time, she did not have her towel on. Johnny's mouth fell open at the unbelievable sight of a gorgeous, naked teenager doing her absolute best to cover her privates with only her hands and arms. Eager to end the standoff, Mary hurried through the door, showing us both her naked backside in the process, and dove under the bed covers.

"Holy Shit!" Johnny exclaimed, as I, grinning from ear to ear, herded him from the room and back outside. He let forth several more expletives, and by the time we got back to the pool, we were both grinning.

We threw the ball around for a while, just to keep up appearances, but the hot sun soon drove us back to the pool. Once in the water, Johnny was eager to spread the story about his encounter with my naked sister. I let him do all the talking. It was more believable coming from him. More than one boy came up to me after that and asked to use our restroom. But I declined. Mom would grow suspicious by the parade of horny boys entering our motel room. And with Mary back in bed, the show was over anyway.

That evening, after dad got back from the service station, we walked across the street to a local diner. Mary stayed behind. I saw some of the families from the pool, and happily nodded back to any boy who recognized me. Johnny had spread our story far and wide, and I was a legend among the other teenage boys.

The room only had two double beds. Mom and dad would sleep in one, with Mary and Bea sharing the other. Cindy and I were relegated to sleeping bags on the floor. It was not the most comfortable way to sleep, but having camped in worse situations, including freezing temperatures and rainstorms, I couldn't complain. I had a soft place to lay my head and something to keep me warm. And don't worry about me. My sleeping arrangements got better and better as the trip went on.

Mary cried herself to sleep that night. After everyone else was snoozing contentedly, I could still hear her sniffling. Having just endured the most traumatizing day of her young life, I understood why she would be so distraught. Even if she did manage to settle herself down and fall asleep, it would only mean facing another humiliating and stressful day of nudity. Why would she want to do anything to hasten that?

I couldn't sleep for a different reason. My body was having trouble settling down if you know what I mean. And it presented a real issue for me. Like any healthy, teenage boy, once I discovered the joys of masturbation, I usually ended every night with a secret pleasuring session. And after the visually stimulating day I had just experienced, I needed it more than usual. But I had not anticipated how little privacy I would have on this trip. Sleeping in the same room as my three stepsisters, not to mention my parents, and with little Cindy literally laying right next to me, there's no way I could perform the deed safely.

Rolling over, I tried to ignore my throbbing boner and just relax. Eventually, fatigue caught up to me, and I assume it did to Mary as well. It's a good thing, too. Because the beautiful young lady had a very eventful day of exhibition waiting for her.

Poor Mary. She is going to be an exhibitionist whether she wants to or not. This story is picking up speed. Looking forward to seeing what awaits Mary. Good story! Will our hero ever get any relief?

Making Mary lose the towel so she can be shown off to the new friend- excellent move.

Mary missed dinner? If that keeps happening, she'll lose weight. Call it the naked diet plan.

That night, I dreamt about underwear. It didn't take a dream interpreter to figure out why. Mary's underwear, especially her lack of it, had featured prominently in my day. It did get me reminiscing about when I first started to care what was going on under a girl's clothes. I even remember where it happened - at church, of all places!

Mary was thirteen, which would have put me no older than about ten. Girls were hardly on my radar at that age. But I think having a front row seat to my stepsister’s physical development accelerated my timeline when it comes to interest in girls. When she started puberty, mom did what any good mother would do and bought her a bra. And, for some reason, she decided that church would be the perfect setting to debut it.

Unfortunately, that first week, Mary's childish dress was not built to accommodate the addition of a bulky undergarment up top. In addition to looking uncomfortable, it created lumps and creases where previously none had existed.

Back then, women weren't allowed to preach in church, or even be on the stage. But they could contribute in another important way, by singing in the choir. Patricia was a regular participant in the Heavenly chorus, an activity she also expected of her daughters.

Bea, happy to put on a performance for a captive audience, would jump at the chance to stand and preen behind the preacher. Cindy, always the follower, would happily join her mother and older sister in the loft. But being front and center and putting on a show with the entire congregation staring at her made Mary uncomfortable. It usually took some cajoling to get her to, reluctantly, join her sisters in the choir.

But the day she wore her new bra for the first time, she was feeling more self-conscious than usual. So, when it was time for the singers to come to the front and lead the hymns, she asked if she could stay in the pew with us.

When the other girls left, I scooted over to sit beside Mary. Dad sat on her other side. Since there weren't enough hymnals to go around, when we stood for the first song, Mary and I shared one. But when I looked over at the page, my gaze drifted upward to the front of her dress, and I froze. Because of her new bra, the fabric across her chest was stretched where it used to lay flat, leaving gaps between the buttons.

It was only a little square peeking through the opening. But for some reason, I couldn't look away. The bright white of her bra blazed brilliantly, a stark comparison to her violet dress. I completely forgot to sing the words to the hymn. I probably looked like a goldfish with my eyes bulging out and my mouth opening and closing repeatedly. By the end of the song, like a fish, I was hooked on the sight of Mary's bra.

After the songs, we sat back down. While we were supposed to be praying, I peeked over to check on the little gap. It was still there! I spent the entire rest of the sermon sneaking glances at that little, white square of fabric and fantasizing about the mysterious flesh contained within. I had no idea what the preacher was talking about, "thou shalt not lust", or some other such nonsense.

Mary didn't wear that dress too many more times before mom realized she needed to make her daughter a new one. But even though women back then were all expected to know how to sew, mom wasn't the most skilled seamstress. She did everything she was supposed to, buying fabric by the bolt along with pattern kits that were supposed to walk you through the whole thing. I think part of the problem was, to cut down on the degree of difficulty, she stuck to the simpler, children's patterns thinking she could just scale them up to fit a pubescent young lady.

But mom soon found herself in an arms race with nature as Mary's body wouldn't stop growing and changing. No matter how many dresses she made, Mary always came out looking a little bit like Alice in Wonderland just after drinking some growth potion.

With her legs growing ever longer and shapelier, the lower hems always came out much too short which left the insecure teenager constantly tugging at them in a futile attempt to cover more of herself. And the sleeves were so tight around her upper arms that she couldn't raise them without pulling the whole dress higher and flashing even more of her thighs and nearly her panties!

If not for her naturally trim waist, the middle sections would have been too tight to get closed. In one of those dresses, there was no way she could get down the aisle to our pew without every elder and deacon noticing how good the virgin Mary's growing hips and rounded bottom were getting at swiveling when she walked. Perhaps the preacher needed to dust off that lusting sermon more often.

And, of course, every time she sat down beside me, that gap, showing where bra was still doing its darndest to keep cradling the inside of her right breast, was always there to greet me. As she outgrew them, her dresses would be passed down to Bea, and eventually Cindy, who both encountered similar problems as their own bodies started to fill in. But because I rarely sat beside them at just the right angle, I'd had fewer chances to peek at their bras.

You can see how my fascination with Mary's bra in particular contributed to me getting distracted when going to check on her before our trip. After seeing no more than a tiny piece all those years, I couldn't pass up the chance to inspect the thing in its entirety, and even to hold it in my hands. But I still refuse to take responsibility for her humiliating consequence. She was still late to the car, and that's a fact. Anyway, back to the story.

The Soft Pines Motor Inn featured a complimentary, hot breakfast buffet. Always an early riser, dad had been the first one in line when they started serving breakfast. Having already eaten and gotten ready, he busied himself packing up and checking on the wagon. Cars were a lot more finicky back then. There were all kinds of levels you had to keep an eye on if you didn't want to find yourself stranded on the side of the road.

Waking everyone else up, mom tried to get us kids to go eat breakfast, but Mary refused to leave her bed covers. She hadn't eaten anything since the start of our trip and had to be starving by now. But she couldn't possibly bring herself to appear in front of the other motel guests without any clothes on. Her sense of modesty overpowered even her growling stomach.

Having no such hesitation, I and my empty stomach eagerly accompanied my other sisters to the small dining room just off the lobby. Once I saw the small crowd of other travelers lining up to get their food, I understood why Mary would want to stay away.

The diners varied in age. Many looked to be families traveling for vacation like us. Some were already dressed and ready to go, while others, in no hurry to get on with their day, were still wearing their pajamas. A few boys from the pool nodded at me, but I didn't see Johnny anywhere. A group of gruff, but jovial men sat together in one corner. From their matching shirts, I deduced they were a bowling team on their way to a tournament somewhere.

Instead of coming with us, mom had gone out to talk to dad and advocate on Mary's behalf. It was a dangerous move. If she caught him in the wrong mood, he might interpret it as a challenge to his authority as the head of our family. The old soldier in him did not abide insubordination. Frank listened to her pleas but showed little sign of relenting on Mary's punishment. He could really dig in when he felt like it. But seeing her eldest daughter starving and in distress must have driven mom to take the chance.

Once he concluded Patricia wasn't going to stop bothering him, he must have decided to throw Mary a bone of mercy. It wasn't much, but it, along with her extreme hunger, was enough to convince her to venture out in search of food.

A ripple of excitement spread over every man and boy in the dining room when the seventeen-year-old fantasy made flesh showed up to breakfast. She was wearing the only thing Frank had allowed her to - one of mom's nightgowns with nothing else. The gown, while nearly full-length, had virtually no substance to it. For modesty’s sake, was surely meant to be worn with underwear beneath and a housecoat over it. But Mary had neither. And as a result, she looked like something out of a naughty magazine.

The gorgeous teenager continued to use her arms and hands to block her privates in front as best she could. But from behind, like a magic trick, the light traveled right through the gown to spotlight her rounded bottom and nicely curved hips.

Several moms grabbed their gawking sons by the ear and pulled them from the room. Some looked like they wanted to do the same with their husbands.

When she got to the front of the line, she had to hold her tray with both hands. That left her large but gravity-defying breasts draped in nothing but the thinnest layer of off-white cloth. My eyes bulged when I realized I could make out the two darker spots of her nipples! The way they poked out lifted the garment at least another half inch away from her breasts.

When she had finished filling her tray, she turned to face the dining room. A huge blush formed on her cheeks as she saw how many people were staring at her; more accurately, how many people were staring at her chest. Unfortunately, with her proud breasts pushing the gown away from her body so far, you couldn’t really see what was going on between her legs, other than a blurry, vague patch which must have been her pubic hair.
There was a spot free at our table, but that would have required her to cross the entire room. Instead, she rushed toward the closest empty table and sat down, the lightweight, hanging gown dancing wildly with every step she took.

Once her lower half was safely beneath the tablecloth, she could eat with one hand, but kept the other draped over her nearly naked chest to at least hide her nipples from prying eyes. She also kept her head bowed to avoid making eye contact or engaging with any of the other diners.

While the group of bowlers seemed to really enjoy the show. One of them even whistled loudly, which started the others laughing. Other scandalized diners were not so amused. I chuckled to myself when two boys, one younger and one nearly my age, were being led out of the room by an unhappy woman. As the younger one was being dragged past our table, he turned to her and said, "mommy, what's a whore?"

Being so woefully underdressed and looking as miserable as she did, it sure didn't stop her from eating. Having had nothing to eat for over a day, she devoured everything. When her plate was clean, she looked wistfully at the buffet as if her stomach really wanted her to make another trip through. But then she glanced at the exit. Her modesty was screaming at her to get the Hell out of there and put more clothes on. If only she had brought some...

This time, her modesty won out. Covering her front strategically, she stood up and hurried out of the dining room, her bare feet slapping softly against the linoleum floor and her indecent gown billowing out behind her. Because of the stiff boner in my shorts, I had to make a few strategic adjustments before I stood up and escorted my suddenly quiet sisters back to the motel room.

Since the rest of us had showered last night and dad had taken his earlier, Mary was the only one left. She had to be relieved to finally be able to finish the shower she had started the previous morning, washing out the crusty shampoo and fixing her tangled mess of hair. But she must have been devastated when she emerged to find the nightgown had been packed away along with everything else. Frank's leniency had expired.

With no make-up or clothes to put on, it didn't take her long to get ready. She patted her long, straight hair dry with a towel then brushed it out smooth with a brush borrowed from Bea. At least today she wouldn't look like a crazed, naked gutter rat. She would look like a beautiful young lady out on holiday with her family...naked.

The car was idling and ready to go when Mary cracked open the motel door. Taking a deep breath, she made extra sure the coast was clear before darting down the sidewalk, buck naked, but doing her best to keep her most private bits covered, and dove into the relative safety of the car with a huge sigh of relief - as if that were some kind of accomplishment worth celebrating.

For a moment, she smiled to herself. She always looked so beautiful when she smiled. But then she made eye contact with me, and her smile faded as the full weight of her predicament came rushing back and a blush returned to her cheeks. By the time we reached the road, she was sobbing again. Out of curiosity more than anything, I checked the clock on the dash and timed her. It only took her sixteen minutes to get her crying under control this time. At least she seemed to be making progress on that front. Maybe that was something worth celebrating.

I, on the other hand, was all smiles as we accelerated away from the Soft Pines Motor Inn. I had made some very happy memories but hadn't dared to let myself hope that Mary's humiliating ordeal might continue. But seeing her curled once again in a tight, naked ball beside me could only mean one thing. Day two of our vacation was shaping up to be just as memorable as day one, if not more!

The backstory on Junior's bra obsession and on Mary's mortifying modesty was enlightening. The breakfast adventure was entertaining. Mother risking angering Father was interesting.

I'll have to contain myself until the next chapter. The adventure is just getting started.

I'm expecting Bea to become jealous of the attention Mary is getting (but the attention is not wanted). Bea likes being front and center according to Chapter 4. Cindy is a follower and won't be left out. Junior will forget to breathe if all three sisters wind up naked--will he suffer from blood rushing to his little head and faint?
How much will Bea act up so that she winds up like Mary? Worse, will Mary complain that her pubic hair is showing? "That can be fixed!"

One aspect of road trips in the Sixties and Seventies was sibling squabbles. Jealous Bea will tease Mary eventually--as soon as she gets over her terror. I've been in both vans and the station wagons with the backward-facing seat. I owned one of those Seventy-series station wagons and despite air conditioning the back seat got hot, hot, hot. Even with all the windows down, the back seat could be stifling. Will Bea displace Junior, moving him to the back seat?

So much potential.