Diary of a Panty Lover's Wife Ch. 02

After that encounter, he longed to see more of that gap. He didn't often see the girls he knew in pants, he DEFINITELY never saw a girl in just pantyhose, and the only explicit sexual material available to him was the Sears catalog. He would obsessively pour through the "intimate apparel" section to look at the models in pantyhose. He was addicted to the newly-realized shape of their thighs, hips, and ass. He desperately wanted to again view that wonderful, smooth void between their legs, but it seemed like the models always had one leg forward, closing their legs and blocking the view. On the rare occasion there was a good crotch-revealing pose, he would marvel at how the pantyhose pulled everything in tight and accentuated the gap. That catalog witnessed many hours of my husband's "alone time" in the bathroom.

When he would wear nylons himself, he was disappointed at the now-obvious and completely intrusive bulge. He longed for that smoothness that he witnessed on his teacher's wife. He would try to tuck himself under to recreate the visual image, but it wasn't the same. The tumor-like bulge was still there. He had just moved it. Over the next few years, this had so firmly lodged itself into his mind that it became a critical part of his sexual fantasy. He occasionally found a lingerie ad showing the "great void". He loved walking through the department store, where mannequins showed off the selection of satin briefs. They weren't even real women, but he could steal quick glances at their shapes as he walked by. His thoughts were consumed by the satin panty crotches that smoothly, softly, gently caressed that wonderful shape. There were a couple VHS exercise videos laying around the house that, when nobody else was home, he would slide into the VCR, and then pleasure himself to the sight of leotards stretched between the legs of the girls' tights as they did leg lifts. That naturally extended itself to his obsession with bodysuits over pantyhose. Anything that highlighted and accentuated that magical, smooth, unobstructed gap that he wished he had.

Fast forward to now.

For the last couple years, if I happened to be wearing pantyhose while we were making out, he might, in the heat of the moment, cut a hole in the nylons and the panties and screw me through the hole. Sometimes, if I knew it was coming, I would just wear some that had already been cut to avoid having to buy yet another pair. So there were always a few "modified" panties and pantyhose in the dresser. He didn't tell me until later the other reason he was doing it. When he would sneak my underwear out and wear them, he loved pulling his dick out that hole. Now, for the first time in his life, the satin panties and pantyhose he loved so much, actually fit the way they were supposed to. He could feel the cotton lined crotch of the panties and the gusset of the nylons pressing against his ass and crotch. As he looked down, he could also see and feel the shiny material as it lay smooth and flat against his lower tummy. He could see the stitching around the legs of his panties lay flat against his body as he followed them from his hips and watched them disappear between his legs. Everything smooth. Everything flat. Heaven. Never mind the fact that there was a hole in his underwear with a big dick hanging out. He could just sort of mentally bock that out while he admired the rest of the image before him.

So here we are now. There's my husband. Desperately on the edge. My juices all over his face. Dick at full attention protruding from a hole in his nylons. Satin briefs shimmering from under the pantyhose. Wide shoulders softened by the delicate straps of his slip. Pre-cum dribbling. Veins throbbing. Squirming in agony. (or pleasure?)

This is how I get my way.