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The next three days were action packed for the ladies. They saw the sights. They shopped. They took in amazing dinners in the city. And they went to the famous, clothing optional beaches of Rio to work on their tans. Suddenly, as if without notice, it was Tuesday. Fat Tuesday - Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Carnaval in Rio. By mid-afternoon the crowds in town were already growing immense and the women headed back to their hotel to freshen up.

"How does this look Sue?" Claire asked innocently.

"Provocative as all hell!" her friend exclaimed. "You look hot. Is that the outfit you bought yesterday?"

Claire nodded, lighting a cigarette and checking herself critically in the mirror. She had on a spaghetti strap cobalt blue tank top, cut in a way that denied the possibility of a bra, and a tight black miniskirt that she would never have considered wearing back home. She rocked on her toes for a moment, examining the way her heavy breasts jiggled unsupported in the top.

"I don't know..." she worried. "My tits are way too big for this thing."

"Give me that lipstick," Susan ignored her, reaching for the tube of bright red color that Claire had just applied. "It's fucking Carnaval. Most of the women won't even be wearing shirts. What are you worried about?"

For her part, Susan was wearing a little-boy T-shirt that was noticeably too small for her; enough so that her ripe, surgically enhanced breasts strained tightly against it and exposed most of her toned stomach. A floral wrap functioned as a long skirt that sat low on her hips.

"Let's go!" Susan cried, taking Claire's hand and pulling her out the door into the setting sun.


The crowds were intense, like nothing either woman had ever experienced before. But they were also very friendly. In the heat of the Brazilian evening, and the press of warm bodies against them, both women soon had a light sheen of perspiration coating their foreheads.

Alcohol was flowing freely in the streets. Caphirenas, a potent drink made of Brazilian rum, limes, and sugar, were being poured everywhere from stoppered flasks. Claire and Susan never once found it necessary to step into a bar for a drink - everywhere they turned, grinning Latin faces greeted them with cups or bottles in outstretched hands. Soon both women were feeling very relaxed and high-spirited.

Suddenly, as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Claire grabbed Susan's arm and hissed at her. "Look!"

Susan followed her gaze to a group of beautiful young Brazilian women who were stripping off their tops to reveal gorgeous dark breasts while men surrounded them, throwing colorful beads their way. As lights strung throughout the streets began to ignite, along with firecrackers and loud music, more and more women removed their shirts and bras to bare their tits in the teeming crowd.

An impromptu street parade began, and the American women found themselves swept up in the tide and slowly, inexorably moved onward. "I want beads too," cried Susan. She took hold of the neckline of her shirt and slowly tore it until it fell away to expose her perfectly shaped boobs, to the admiring whistle of men all around. Hands reached over her neck to drape dozens of necklaces over her head, not coincidentally brushing against her fleshy mounds in the process.

"Don't be a stick in the mud," Susan teased, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Show your tits!" A chorus picked up the call, although with the Portuguese accent "tits" sounded more like "teets" to Claire. Nevertheless, she finally, shyly, stripped off her tank top amid cheers from all around. As with Susan, she was instantly bedecked with party beads. 'Alex would never believe this even if he saw it - much less if I were to tell him, which I'm not going to,' she told herself as her large breasts bounced freely in the sticky warm air. She took another caphirena and downed it quickly.

As the parade continued, they found themselves winding deeper into the city.

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