Teddies, Thongs, Garters; I own them all. The purpose of these silky treasures is, of course, to entice my husband. When I want his eyes to light up, I combine thong and skirt. When I want his heart to race, I use the garters. And when I want his jaw to practically fall off, I create a complete ensemble including thong, garters, stockings, and teddie…But this is all to make him want me…
When I’m feeling naughty and want to turn myself on, I use another technique. I do something that makes me feel sensual, sultry, down right edible…I wear my husband’s shirts.
For me, nothing compares to the wickedly delicious sensation of surrounding my freshly showered skin in his unmistakably masculine scent. I love the way his cologne clings to the collars, and how small I seem in comparison. I’ll press my face into the material, breath deeply, and imagine its his fingertips caressing my nipples as the shirt moves. Sometimes I slip into a thong, other times I prefer to remain naked underneath, not wanting anything to come between us.
His shirt keeps him with me when he’s at work, comforts and protects me, makes me think of him with every step I take. I may cook dinner, or watch tv, but his shirt is a constant source of distraction. I can’t help my wayward thoughts as they drift from one memory to the next. I think of the way he fucked me in it last time, or that it’s missing a button from the time before that. As I run my hands down the front, pressing the cotton to my breasts, down my stomach, I find my fingers drift easily between my thighs…And I am wet.
Sometimes I can’t help it, and begin to tease myself, relaxing into a chair or the sofa. I sink easily into a favorite fantasy…He’s my captor, I’m tied up…Or I make up new ones as I go. Regardless of the story, the ending is always the same. I stop before cumming. After all, the point is to be ready when he gets home.
So depending on how much time I have, these little excite-and-stop sessions may go on for hours, an entire afternoon. An utter indulgence, I know. Certainly not something I can do everyday…But on those rare occasions when I can, in those stolen moments when nothing else matters but the knowledge that very soon my husband will walk through the door, see me naked and wet in his shirt, and devour me as though his very life depended on it…I don’t waste time hesitating.