A deeply sensuous young woman receives undies from her three lovers and becomes in turn a decadent temptress, a beguiling innocent, and a stylish sophisticate.

“Sexy lingerie,” was my reply when each of my three lovers asked me what I wanted for Christmas last year. That’s all I would say, leaving the choice of the specifics strictly to them. Mischievousness is one of my traits. I’m a window dresser with a flair for the dramatic, the improvisational. I crave variety, which is why I have three men in my life. I’m twenty-five and responsible to no one but myself. If ever a woman was in a position to pick and choose her lifestyle and lovers, it’s me right now. And I won’t hesitate.

Each man sent me lingerie which fitted the way he wished to see me. I was surprised, not only by their selections, but by the feeling I got when I put on a specific set of undergarments — the feeling that I was the kind of woman who would have chosen it for herself. When I entertained each of my three men the week following Christmas, I realized just how influenced I was by the nature of their intimate gifts. My heart fluttered.

Charles was my guest on the first of these most interesting evenings. He’s a successful accountant, a staunch, solid type. A little on the dull side, but reassuringly reliable. Steady old Charles had given me outrageous underwear in red and black: a see-through bikini. bra and panties, garter belt, stockings. Getting dressed for him, I put each of his presents on; then, on an impulse, I stripped. Stark naked except for the black and red garter belt fastened around my small waist, the seamed silk stockings on my legs and a pair of high-heeled black patent-leather shoes, I was ready to greet Charles. To highlight the exotic effect, I brushed my shoulder-length dark-blonde hair over one ear, fastening it with a rhinestone-studded comb, and applied heavy makeup to my eyes.

When I opened the door, Charles, who was wearing his usual three-piece business suit and carrying a bulging brief case, gaped at the sight of me clad only in heels, stockings and garter belt. His leer deepened into a salacious smile of avid lust. Bustling around, hanging up Charles’s coat, fixing drinks, offering a platter of canapes, I was acutely conscious of my near nudity. The plump flesh of my bare inner thighs rubbed together while my silk-sheathed legs caressed each other.

I felt a flush spread through my body as Charles stared fixedly at the thatch of honey-colored pubic hair which was so alluringly exposed. Beneath its pubic fur, my female flesh grew hot and moist.

Charles was seated on the sofa, his drink in hand, when I came to him with the canape platter, which he took with his free hand. Placing both platter and glass on the small table next to him, his arms reached out to encircle the fleshy globes of my buttocks. Sinking from the sofa to the carpet, Charles knelt in front of me. His fingers were caressing my buttocks as he pulled my pubis to his face. His mouth fell hungrily on my vulva and his tongue was swiftly inside my vagina, lapping at its roiling juices. My knees turned to Jell-O and my toes tingled; proper, staid Charles had never before put his face to my pussy. Something in my daring attire was making him a bold lover. I was different too, a wild woman who pushed her vagina against him so that his tongue was probing deeper. My clit was rubbing against the bony ridge of his nose, creating an ecstatic friction. Exuberantly, I kept up the pushing and rubbing till I reached a delicious climax which left me hot for more.

Later I realized that it was my steamy attire that had spawned this new erotic me, rife with lustful urges and the drive to satisfy them. The sight of me in this wonderfully seductive getup had transformed Charles from a creature of stuffy conventions to one of sexual ·caprice. It was my new nature, though, which exerted itself first.

It was I who took off Charles’ clothes and straddled his nude body, easing my soft and squirming female center onto his male hardness. I had always before, when with a lover, thought of his pleasure as much as, sometimes even more than, my own. This time my erotic energy was focused on my own satisfaction. I rode Charles’s cock with my head thrown back and my eyes closed shut, oblivious to all but the powerful sensations sweeping through my, shuddering vagina and my trembling clitoris.

Only after I was submerged in a climactic sea of boundless pleasure did I remember that Charles was under me. I expected his stiff flesh to join into mine till he came too ... but no, he was abruptly lifting me from my comfy seat on his beautiful cock and turning me over so that I was crouched on all fours. Turning himself around, Charles knelt behind me, his rod slithering up between my legs. His hands grasped my asscheeks as his penis slid into my fleshy vaginal tunnel. Now it was Charles’s turn to display the effects of my sexy outfit on his erotic responses. He was showing me a side I’d never seen, his instinctual drive thrusting itself home to the satisfaction of his own urgent need. And it was with a feisty low growl that he shot his thick load into me.

Afterward, Charles and I stared at each other, astounded at what we had become. Under his eager eyes I stepped out of my shoes, unhooked all the garters and peeled off my stockings. We showered and I put on a lacy negligee while he went out for some food. We spent a cozy evening together in which there was a new note of intimacy between us.

The next time Charles came to see me, I was wearing the garter belt along with the matching bikini panties and spaghetti-strap bra, a pair of black fishnet stockings and even higher heels. I put some raucous rock on the stereo and did a sexy dance, wriggling my ass and bouncing my breasts like a go-go girl. In no time, Charles was out of his clothes and into me. We moved to the music’s frenetic beat and came together on its climax.

Whenever Charles and I want to recreate that mood of sizzling passion, all we have to do is get me into something wild and sexy. Charles has been wonderfully attentive in bringing me new items of playful underwear. It works for us, ridding him of his inhibitions and me of the deference his stuffiness used to elicit.

It’s stimulating to drift in an airy mood of je ne sais quoi.

With Eddie I discovered a  vastly different sexuality n the underwear he sent e, and when I wore it for him, we both saw me in a new light. Eddie’s a rough-and-tumble kind of guy who owns his own trucking business. I met him in a show-biz type pub and was attracted by his swarthy good looks and street-kid swagger. Our lovemaking was always of the straight-fuck, no-frills variety. His bed technique definitely left something to be desired, but his gorgeously muscled well-hung body and brash macho charm was enough for me to want to keep seeing him.

Staring at myself in the mirror in the underwear Eddie had sent me, I saw a lovely lady in a peach-colored satin camisole, trimmed with ivory lace, and a matching pair of tap pants. Her feet were thrust into elegant beige slippers and her hair was swept into a stunning French knot. To augment this look of dainty elegance, I had shaved my pubis so that where there had been a luxuriant fur, there was now only a covering of a fine, light fluff.

Sensing that Eddie had sent me such classy underclothes because he wanted to see me as a proud lady, a remote beauty, I played the part to the hilt the night he came over to see me in my finery. The smooth satin caressing the sensitive skin of my inner-thighs, the costly camisole against my breast, my sophisticated hairdo-all this made me look and feel aloof.

Eddie was as much into his new personna as I was into mine. In my casually decorated career-like bedroom, he acted as though in the boudoir of a great lady. Instead of swiftly stripping, as was his usual practice, Eddie stopped at his undershorts and shirt. He sat on the bed, carefully removed my shoes and then stroked the satin which sheathed my body. I lay propped up by pillows, blandly accepting his attentions.

It was difficult, but I maintained my grave, ladylike demeanor even as Eddie removed my camisole and cleverly played with my nipples, then peeled off my pants and stroked the soft skin of my pubis. When his magical fingertips slipped inside me, l willed myself to stay cool and dry. It was Eddie’s tongue which finally moistened and warmed my vaginal flesh. Here was Eddie, who had always taken his pleasure on my nude and writhing body with a minimum of foreplay, arousing and then satisfying me with a superior oral skill.

After my third climax, I delicately moved his head away and asked if he would bring me a glass of wine. Amazingly, Eddie, still in his underwear, his jockey shorts bulging with the power of his hard-on, scurried off to the kitchen. While he was gone I put my satin pants and camisole back on. When he returned, I daintily sipped the wine and languidly stroked Eddie’s muscular torso and powerful forearms.

Using some subtle, well-turned phrases, I made it clear to him that I wasn’t in the mood for intercourse but would be thrilled to watch him bring himself to a climax. As I spoke, my fingers had slipped inside Eddie’s undershorts to stroke his rock-hard cock. Understanding my discreetly worded suggestion, Eddie had his underclothes quickly off and knelt on the bed over my prone figure, still propped up by the pillows. As Eddie lovingly stroked his engorged organ, l raised my camisole so that my midriff was bare. This and a single look from me fully explained my intention that he should climax for my eyes only.

My breasts and vagina swathed in satin, I lay luxuriantly on my back and watched my macho lover obligingly pulling his penis and staring at me in my elegant undies. Suddenly, he was aiming his rigid flesh downward and a hot load of his love cream was spurting out from its engorged, purplish head to splash on the smooth white sheets of my bed. Then he got a warm washcloth and carefully wiped me clean before getting into bed and falling asleep beside me.

Eddie and I never repeated our elegantly attired erotic scenario because it was complete in itself. But after that one experience, Eddie was more considerate of me, a better-mannered friend and more thoughtful lover. While I didn’t play the grand lady with him again, I was sure that his methods would get better like his social behavior and his sexual performance. I expected more romance and more foreplay — and I got them. This interlude changed my relationship with Eddie, very much for the better. I will always be grateful to those lace-trimmed satin undergarments that turned a ruffian into a gentleman and a career woman into a lady of exquisite taste, delicacy and refinement.

The most surprising of my three presents was from Doug, who sent me undergarments that were all-Swiss-made and 100 percent cotton. There were white underpants with a floral design, embroidered in front and a little demi-cup brassiere, a white nightgown and peignoir. I was puzzled that these items, symbols of a pristine innocence, would come from a man of Doug’s complexity and sophistication. He’s in his early forties, has had three marriages and innumerable romantic relationships; he has traveled widely and is more of a gambler than a businessman in the way he handles his money. I found Dong intriguing and amusing, but also disturbingly cynical. He seemed to be a man who held much inside, but I knew that his love was strong. He always wined and dined me lavishly, and his manners were, on the surface, impeccable. Yet there was a feeling he projected that made me hold back. I had assumed that Doug’s gift of erotic attire would be daring, even a bit decadent. Instead, I faced myself in the mirror in my white cotton bra and panties and saw a virgin standing there. To accentuate the look, I let my hair fall down to my shoulders, tied only with a white velvet ribbon, and wore a pair of white lace anklets and white flat-heeled sandals. My face, scrubbed clean of makeup, looked younger and fresher.

When I opened the door for Doug, who was dressed in a fashionable and dapper suit, it was as though Alice in Wonderland were letting in Don Juan. His sharp eyes made a swift appraisal of me in my white cotton purity; and then his face softened, taking on an expression I had never seen there before. I sat cross-legged at his feet in my virginal underwear and robe while he talked with an unaccustomed emotional openness about his first love. His hand reached out to stroke my silky hair.

“I would like to make the kind of love with you tonight that I once made with her, when I was young and full of romantic dreams and high ideals.” he said slowly.

Without a word. I rose and walked into the bedroom. We exchanged a chaste kiss and then I excused myself. In the bathroom, I slowly undressed down to my nightgown, then slipped the ribbon of my head and shook my hair entirely loose. Barefoot, I walked lightly back into the bedroom and over to the bed, where Doug was already under the covers.

Timidly, I lay down beside him and he took me in his arms very gently and kissed me slowly and thoroughly. We embraced. He was nude under the covers and I was in my fresh, clean sleepwear. Our kisses were long and soulful and searching. Doug kissed and caressed me tenderly before removing my nightgown. The mood we had set infused me, and I instinctively covered my bare breasts with my soft arms, just as a young girl would.

Doug’s arms were around mine, removing them from shielding my breasts from his sight. When my soft mounds were before him, he kissed and fondled them with a surprising tenderness. Then he took me under the covers, enveloping my body in the warm and natural shelter of his arms.

He touched every part of me as though for the first time, and when his hand slipped between my fleshy thighs, I gasped and gave an involuntary shudder of innocent exuberance. Doug buried his head between my breasts while his hand burrowed into my seemingly virginal cleft. I was as happy as I’d ever been in my life. I could hardly believe it.

When his penis slowly slipped inside my womanly cave, I felt myself tighten. The introduction of his strong flesh into my soft recesses made me breathe deeply. l clung to Doug and gave my body a chance to get used to the feel of him within it. Slowly l began to relax as the embraced organ waited halfway in me. Sliding fully into me, Doug reached my feminine inner sanctum.

For the first time we were making love instead of merely fucking. His penis slowly and skillfully moving inside me, Doug’s body pressed gently down on mine while his hands tenderly held my face and his eyes never left mine. All the while his well-aimed thrusts drove my orgasm home. Then Doug briefly closed his eyes but kept my face in his hands, and he quickly drove himself to his own climax.

Doug and I haven’t been lovers again since that night. But we have become close friends and he treats me with a gentle affection, like a younger sister who occasionally needs the concern and advice of a worldly older brother. For Doug, as for Charles and Eddie, my suggestion of sexy lingerie as a Christmas gift proved pivotal to our relationship. As I see it now, each man had led a double life, and each gave me the lingerie which would be worn by the woman he longed to love.