A highly perceptive couple make their marriage an ongoing rite of seduction through the subtle

use of sensual apparel

I simply adore the sly but perfectly endearing way Walter leads  me into seduction. We’ve been married two years, but the old-fashioned darling is still courting me with honeymoon affection. We both work, and it’s not unusual for him to call me at the office, flirt over the phone and ask for a date.

Perhaps it’s his one-step-at-a-time approach, but a date with my husband is more exciting now than it was before we were married. He’s so sweetly erotic that everything we do together is sexually stimulating. He knows how to turn me on, but I guess that’s a two-way street, because if I didn’t turn him on, then he wouldn’t be as motivated as he is to please me.

Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. Walter isn’t perfect and neither am I, but what we have going for us is something every couple should share. We’ve retained the delightful mystery of love in our marriage by not becoming overly familiar with each other. Familiarity breeds contempt, so each of us respects the other’s privacy. My mystique is his most cherished possession, and his secret charm is mine. So, in deceptively subtle ways, we help each other preserve these things. Let me cite an example of what I’m trying to say. My story will explain it best.

Walter adores my pretty underthings, and he dearly loves to undress me. He does it with such tenderness and devotion that I’m compelled to dress for the occasion. It takes me longer to get ready in the mornings, and since we’re both working, breakfast is his job. He starts the coffee before taking his shower, and after he’s shaved and dressed, we have a cup together while I’m still in bed. I do my dressing in private while he’s busy in the kitchen.

Knowing that I’ll be his surprise package to unwrap that evening, I take special care with my morning toilet. My dark-brown hair is cut short in a boyish manner Walter prefers. He says it accents my big almond eyes, high cheek-bones and long, slender neck. I suspect he has a fetish for short hair on women because when he brushes it for me, his eyes gleam.

Like brushing my hair in the morning, giving me a bath is part of Walter’s evening ritual. He pats me dry with a big fluffy towel, and if my nails need attention, he applies the polish. He insists that my hands and feet be soft and smooth, as he believes that a lady should wear gloves and pretty shoes to express her delicate femininity. In this regard, my wardrobe lacks nothing.

My lingerie is the finest money can buy. Every lacy bra is perfectly matched with a garter belt, panties and slip. In keeping with my petit figure, my breast are small and firm. Walter delights in teasing my nipples through the sheer mesh of lace-trimmed nylon or satin. He’s an absolute pet about my panties, kissing and licking the crotch before removing them and never allowing them to touch the floor. Walter does all my intimate laundry by hand, using the cost of them to justify his actions.

“Twenty-dollar panties,” he maintains, “deserve my attention. Besides,” he adds with a smile, “they’ve caressed your pussy all day long, and you know that makes them almost sacred to me.”

My stockings and other underwear are equally included in Walter’s servicing. Each item is orally adored in the washing process, and watching him kiss, lick and suck my soiled garments is merely a prelude to the delicious oral attention he gives the body they covered. I feel like a pampered goddess as he starts at my toes and nibbles his way to the vortex of my passion.

He has a beautiful circumcised penis, and watching it harden to a magnificent eight inches creates a huge hunger in me. As his lips and tongue engulf my vulva, I twist and turn to feed on his rampant manhood. I love to milk and swallow his first ejaculation, and as he continues eating me, I lick him back to erection. My orgasms come in waves that deliciously lubricate my vagina for his saliva-slickened shaft.

Each morning as I dress, my body warms with the memory of his nightly caresses. Putting on my nylons is a foretaste of the joy I’ll experience as he removes them with his talented tongue. Stepping into my panties, I tingle with anticipation. Feeling the silken caress of my slip on my naked thighs is like feeling a loving kiss from Walter’s eager lips. His whispered words echo in my mind as I slip into my heeled, open-toed, sling-back pumps.

“Your legs are so lovely when you’re in heels,” he murmured. “Your darling little toes flirt with my eyes, and the gleaming nylon sheathing your slender ankles make them so kissable.”

My blouses and suits are color-coor-dinated with my lingerie, so that if I’m wearing pink when I appear for break-fast, Walter knows the color he can build on in his daydreams. If I’m wearing a dress to the office, he knows my arousal has started, and that triggers a gorgeous gleam in his sparkling blue eyes. He knows l’m insatiable during this state and will quickly request his oral attentions. On such occasions he’s always the first one home.

My cosmetics are generally limited to a light powder, lipstick and faint eye-shadow. Walter likes me to wear pearls and gold for adornment, and my jewelry reflects his good taste. He favors a sub-tie, sophisticated perfume which I use on my feet, thighs, breasts, neck and ears. I like to scent his handkerchiefs with it as a reminder that he is always with me.

During breakfast, we outline our plans for the day. If either of us as a business luncheon scheduled, he’ll agree to call during the afternoon regarding his plans for dinner. We often lunch together, but when we can’t, he makes dinner-either out or in-an especially erotic experience. If we dine out, we always go dancing later, and he manages to dry-fuck me in preparation for the real thing at home.

If I fix dinner for him at home, he turns our meal into a seductive evening with fine wine, music and soft lights, letting me become his dessert. When I really don’t feel up to such an evening I simply ask him to fix our meal, and he instantly agrees. This doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, he’s a perfeet gentleman in every respect. He offers to bathe me before bedtime, and while undressing me provides a relaxing massage without the usual sexual over-tones. At these times he’s like a personal maid, giving me unselfish, gentle and delicate care.

There are times when we’ll go several days without any direct sexual contact. During these periods of sexual abstinence, Walter demonstrates his admiration of my femininity by becoming more feminine himself. He’s completely masculine in his manner, but he does little female things that please me.

He cooks our meals, cleans the apartment, makes the bed, does the shopping and leaves me privately free to be myself. It’s all part of his seduction technique, but when he starts polishing my shoes, I know it’S’ time for me to take a sexual interest in him. All I have to do to bring him to his aroused state is coo, “Darling, I’ve missed your kisses.”

Fortunately, I’m the exclusive object of Walter’s desire, and he allows me to set the pace of our sexual activities. My husband firmly believes in the sanctity of women. I’m an advertising copywriter, and Walter agrees that I should be paid for my work on an equal basis with men, but he refuses to accept other aspects of the feminist thought.

“Carolyn,” he has seriously asked, “why in the world would a woman want to become a garbage collector? Have you ever smelled the alley behind some of our finest restaurants? It’s enough to gag a maggot, and I can’t picture you or any woman wanting a job like that.”

Walter’s a design engineer, and there are a few women in his field. He ad-mires them for their talent and accepts them as professional equals, but in his personal life he’s a “pedestal man,” and I love him for it, because my pedestal is based in his erotic sexual desire.

We’re not into a fantasy-based, un-real relationship. My love for Walter is too great for that. We mutually enjoy the adoration he gives me. He loves my mystique, and I savor his masculine charm. When he responds to the whisper of my nylons by kissing my feet, we are both erotically stimulatated.

Knowing my husband loves every inch of my body gives me a divine feeling of love, but his love for me is matched by mine for him. My lips have caressed his body, and as I ride his handsome cock to the carpeted floor, I know he’ll offer himself to my greedy mouth. I’m fully capable of fucking his mouth with my tongue, licking his broad shoulders and chest, sucking his toes as he sucks mine and roaring with passion as I work myself on his throbbing prick.

He’s my sucker, fucker, eater, drinker-and I’m his. He loves me and I love him. One step at a time, we seduce each other. Hearing his whimper of complete pleasure elicits my own. When he’s gone all I can do is think of his handsome physique.

Lust is a great equalizer, and by carefully monitoring his, I can achieve several orgasms to each of his ejaculations. He understand this and thrills to it. But there are occasions when I have a deep desire to be fucked like I’ve never been fucked before. When that intoxicating feeling sweeps over me, I weave fantasies to tease Walter into sexual madness. My favorite sexual scenario is of myself as a sweet, innocent virgin, just graduated from convent school, who finds herself working for a strong, handsome man. In this daydream, Walter becomes a grieving widower who needs the comfort and care of a good woman. As his young housekeeper, my heart goes out to him with love and sympathy. He comes home from the office to find me in his wife’s room, packing her things.

Standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, he asks me to wear her clothes. “I want to see how you look in her underwear.”

“Oh sir,” I exclaim, “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” he asks. “You’re now the woman of this house and all these pretty things are yours.”

“But, sir, we’re not married.”

“We ’re better than that,” he retorts, crossing the room and sitting on the bed. “You’re a lovely little thing and I’m your lover. Why not put on a little show for me? I want to see you in silk and lace. Get undressed and give me a fashion show!”

Walter always knows when I’m in the mood for his scenario. I never call htm “sir” at any other time. I can start my fantasy by meeting him at the door with a cheerful, “Welcome home, sir,” or murmuring during our afternoon phone call, “Yes, sir.” He really gets into it during my fashion show by telling me what a marvelous blowjob I’m going to give and how we’re going to make love deep into the dark night. I tease him with shy innocence and listen to his lewd remarks with a calm, relaxed look until he puts me on the bed. My climax starts the moment he touches me, and as his intensity increases, I achieve an indescribable peak of orgasmic perfection.

He fucks me repeatedly from a variety of angles. I have never been as multi-orgasmic as I am with him. I writhe in ecstasy as he drives me to the peak of pleasure. When I think I can’t possibly come again, he sucks my cunt dry and carries me back up the mountain by kissing my clit with his wide lips. He fucks me with his tongue and asks that I lick him to hardness.

I know what’s coming, but I can’t help myself. My cunt puckers with expectation as I take him in my mouth. He’s going to fuck me while quickly massaging my breasts and kissing the back of my neck like lovers should. Afterward, if we’re not completely satisfied, he’ll fuck me again until I moan and luxuriate in a rapid fire succession of wild orgasms. This always makes him hard again, and excited.

After an evening of such masculine splendor, I’m happy to return to the gentle world of wonderful feminine pleasure. Walter licks and kisses me back to reality. He attends me in the bath, pampers my body with lotions and oils, serves me a tasty meal in bed and lets me sleep in his tender and protective arms.

It’s needless to say that we’re happily married. He’s my adoring husband and really loves me. I am really happy that in today’s uncertain world where people drop each other left and right, we can satisfy each other’s needs.

We are so perfectly matched, so wonderfully compatible, that at times I am convinced our meeting and falling in love was all carefully arranged by a loving god intent on pairing two people with identical erotic fantasies. Our life together is an endless, stimulating and deliciously satisfying seduction.