Transplanted Life
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Well, there's a waste of special welcome-home underwear
I kid; Chet certainly was pleased to see me when he got back Sunday night. But if I'd known he wanted to meet up with some friends and then go out to eat and then a movie, well, I wouldn't have been wearing garters, four-inch heels, thong panties and a basque with a push-up bra. I mean, I figure the idea with that stuff is to inspire a guy to want to take it off, but also to make removing it fun. I don't wear that kind of stuff very much at all, but I distinctly remember what it was like when a woman unzipped her dress and stood there in it, with her sexuality exaggerated, and then having to really pay attention to her body while you worked all the fasteners and such. It's a kind of delightful torture, and if you're good, you torment her right back, doing all that without actually touching the skin, making her wait and anticipate...

Anyway, I changed into that right before leaving for the airport, putting up with Mo's snide little "some of us go even longer than two weeks without getting laid by deliberate choice" attitude, figuring, hey, I can stand a couple hours or so in this. wearing them for an entire evening is just more than I want to do; after you dig your underwear out of your butt a few times, the sexiness starts to abate. I don't want to feel like "let's get it over with".

Fortunately, it didn't quite come to that. After the movie, Chet suggested getting some ice cream or something, but Bryce's girlfriend Meg had long since figured out my plan, and mentioned she and Bryce had to get home. He was like, no, we don't have to be at work until almost noon, so Meg throws me this "men" look, says she wasn't expecting company and didn't dress for it. Bryce says aw, come on, she looks nice, and hot, even. Yes, Meg says, she looks hot, maybe I should have said she wasn't dressed for this much company. Then it hits him and he's like, oh, sorry dude, didn't mean to keep you from that. It could be counted as slighting her, but Bryce and Meg are the types who don't censor themselves where sex is concerned, so that's what you'd expect them to say. She pulls him away by the front lip of his jeans (you know, where the belt buckle is) and lets us be.

I think that kind of surprised Chet - he's always kind of taken aback when confronted with the fact that, yeah, I like the sex. But we have a good time, even though he doesn't really seem to know what to do with a girl who's done the whole "undressing-up" thing. He kind of rushes, but I choose to take the enthusiasm as a compliment. To tell the truth, I wear out before he does this time - I'm feeling pinched and squeezed while he's still on West Coast time.

But, hey, that means I can just pack regular clothes for vacation, since he doesn't make a big deal out of the bedroom-only stuff.

Marti, Hie thineself over to a proper lingerie shop, spend some money and buy something that fits right. Thong panties don't have to be uncomfortable. The right thong will feel wonderfully wicked, but not at all as if it's crawling into your butt. Likewise the push up basque. Now, the heels? Can't help you, but that's not what you're complaining about, now is it?

You ought to be able to slip on your sexiest gear in the morning, giving your man a thrill, and a reason to be home on time, wear it all day, and be sitting, hot and excited, when he does show.

- Z

- Z
Huh. I'm probably just whining, because I still expect underwear to be more or less nondescript, basically serving as necessary padding between one's family jewels and zipper. I've gotten used to feeling my bra and stockings, but that took a while, and this is just taking "being aware of one's underthings" to the next level.
Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger

Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at