It was my best friend, Alma, who turned me on to erotic attire. I’m what I call a macho kind of gal; I own my own landscaping business and spend a lot of time in pickup trucks and overalls, being one of the guys. Now don’t get me wrong; I like guys, a whole lot. And I get my share of boyfriends, why not? I’m under thirty, very trim and have looks which are more often described as cute than anything else.

As I say, I’ve never lacked for men in my life but I had never gotten as hung up on one as I did on Phil. He’s a big, brawny guy, a contractor I met while on the job. We hit it off right away and he asked me to come home with him for some chow. I did, and we did, go tot bed, that is. It was dynamite. Phil’s as well hung as any man I’ve ever known and, beneath his tough-guy manner, he’s really sweet and kind. To make a long story short. I really fell for the guy. I could tell that he dug me too, but not the way I wanted, not with that wild passion I was feeling for him. Pondering about this lack of the ultimate response from Phil, I turned to Alma. She made the suggestion that changed everything.

“You have to be more feminine,” Alma told me.

Of course I was put off at first. But then I listened to her and heard the sense in what she was saying. She didn’t mean that I should change my work or my personality or even the way I dress. She just meant that, when I’m with Phil, I should sometimes get dressed up, not just on the outside — I know enough to do that anyway — but in the underclothes I wear. So I decided to take her advice and went out and got myself some sexy undies. The next time I went out with Phil, I was wearing them under my swirling multicolored skirt and my off-the-shoulder white peasant blouse.

When we were ready to make love, I took off my clothes, slow and sexy, like a stripper, and then paraded around in my peach satin, lace-trimmed bikini bra and panties. Watching me, Phil torn off his clothes and I creamed in my sexy panties at the sight of his huge erection as he stared at my body in its satiny finery.

The next thing I knew, Phil had the underthings off and was on top of, then inside me, talking away as though he was in the throes of a love-induced passion. When he came, it was with a long, low growl of absolute release way down. From then on, I wore sexy lingerie every time Phil and I went out together. Even if I just wore jeans and a t-shirt, underneath were bikini panties and a sexy bra. Other times I’d do it up with garter belt. stockings and even sometimes a camisole. I bought frilly, lacy nightgowns and a pair of creamy satin pajamas for when Phil stayed overnight at my place, which he was doing more and more often.

The sexy underwear seems to have done the trick; Phil now sees me in a new way. I can tell that he perceives me as being softer, sexier, more dainty than he did before. And you know something, I feel that way too. Oh, I’m still brash and hearty on too. Oh, I’m still brash and hearty on the job, but I’m letting “other facets of my personality” (so termed in a book Alma lent me) emerge also.

It’s as though it’s not only Phil who’s discovered another aspect of me, but me too — and I’m loving every minute of it. I spend my free time now browsing the lingerie shops for what’s sexy and soft and as feminine and seductive as the woman I am becoming. It’s never too late to find your feminine self, just get yourself some frilly finery and you’ll come a long way, baby.