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Diaphanous I believe is the word. Describes a fabric that is really thin, fine, a bit shiny, and so light a breeze moves it. Hers was made into a white blouse. Oh, and it hid little. You could describe this one blouse as about half way between translucent and transparent. And it clung like that plastic wrap in kitchen. So it was a perfect mold of each breast, the shape, the erect nipple, the subtle movement as she danced. Thankfully, she chose to go bra-less that night. I could see every inch of skin above the belt of her hip hugger bell bottom jeans, through that blouse. The fabric was white, the skin under was tan, and the tan lines across her back and along the sides leading to those breasts were clearly in view. Two squares of the same fabric, sewn on the front, served as the faux pockets over her breasts, one on each side, each perfectly sited to coat a breast, revealing everything but what I really wanted to see. From the side I had half a breast in view, but the best parts were inconveniently concealed.

I was trying to be discreet, so no staring or drooling allowed. Women go to a lot of trouble fixing up things so that men will lust after their bodies, but they will bite your head off if you actually look. At least if you are a guy like me. My record with women was the classic 40 miles of bad road. Starting in high school.

They did me the favor early on of pushing me ahead one grade so when I arrived in high school I was a year and a half younger than most of the girls, and that does not provide for much of a social life for a guy. ...

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