Turns out my boyfriend has something silk and lace.

For the past two years, I’ve been wearing underwear for my boyfriend Ben *, a conservative, with lots of stuffed black stuff. In other words, I’m not a real underwear person. It’s not unattractive to me. Just a couple of times I wore it, and I thought it was fake, and to be honest, I felt better naked.

So back to my cushioned black stuff: when I spontaneously decided to try wearing my underwear, we dated for a year or so. I think I’m sexy clothes, but I also feel a bit stupid, because I was seen naked many times, and with your eyes closed to describe my PJ (polka dot shorts and cotton tanks). Ben once told me he didn’t help, he “not underwear”. I had to break through two drinks to prevent myself from becoming a basic PJ before I was exposed.


When I was first and only out of gear, that’s what Ben was doing (and has been suggesting a repeat since). The perfect occasion presents itself in the form of an idea: I challenge myself to put on my underwear for a week and write it down. So I raided the fashion cabinet of the I tantan.com, and brought back a new bag of underwear to start the business

My whole heart and soul for one night: the garter, the stockings, the whole point. But by Friday night when we came home for dinner, I was kind of trying to get the fuck out. But since we’ve had sex for a week, even if we’re full for dinner, we’re all excited and happy.

While he was brushing his teeth, I slipped into the most relaxed, unrevealing outfit in my underwear: a low-cut, lace-edged silk shirt. I lit a candle and tied it with a petticoat. I was worried that getting up might seem old-fashioned, with a flowing skirt and a delicate edge. But the second Ben saw me (and started kissing me immediately), and apparently he liked what he saw. I like it too: silk made me feel sexier than I usually wear cotton – and more grown up, and that is how I should feel as a 28-year-old life and more than 30 of my boyfriend in New York City. After breaking our dry spell and blowing out the candle, I fell asleep in the suit, which made me feel wrapped in a piece of silk.

A few hours later, I began to have an absurd, vivid sexual dream. 100 percent sure, Ben is on top of me, I open my eyes. He fell asleep next to me. (I mean, it’s 5 a.m.) although Ben is a typical initiate sex, this time I took the REINS and kissed him on the neck until he woke up and kissed me. We had sex and slept for hours. This time, I woke up Ben’s hands on me. Just like the silk is amazing!

Since I put on my shirt, I fully enjoy the third climax, this proposed an unsolicited comments: “I like this feeling – I can feel the silk and your skin,” he said, the straps. “Can you wear it every night? It really makes me nervous.” I smiled. It was only one night – he didn’t know what his storage was. I didn’t tell him.

I was a little shy on Saturday night before I went to bed. I don’t know how Ben would respond, but two nights in negligee saw me – suspicious? Fatigue? I had thought about what to do with S&M, but it was getting harder and harder. I chose a deep blue, and six months ago I bought a big dinner myself, but never wore it. Wide back and lace edge, very sexy.

Ben was already in bed when I walked into our bedroom in my clothes. He can’t believe his luck. “Two nights in a row? !” He asked. “Anything you wear will look sexy, but I think I like it,” he said, pulling me to bed.

We had sex that night and Ben didn’t complain when he called the police half an hour early the next morning. “That’s great,” he said, referring to our sexual record: five days and five times. “Maybe you can get seven pieces of clothes and spin? [Ed. Note: he really says that – you can’t do it.]

We are going out for the night to visit our friends. I only had a nightgown: a red lace hollowed-out bra and a pair of underpants with a garter belt and stockings, plus a silky black robe. I knew I wouldn’t expect me to go with my friends on the other side of the wall. (surprise!)

But the lobster happened. A lot of lobster. Our host has prepared a huge barbecue to let us two groggy food on the sofa. Literally, it can’t be a worse time to have sex, but I don’t pack anything to sleep – it’s my challenge at 3:30 PM!

So, when Ben washed, I put on the bras and panties under my robe, skip the garters and stockings, because I couldn’t even (they didn’t give!). . When Ben entered the bedroom, his eyes were really wide and raised eyebrows. “Three nights? !” We began to kiss, and he untied my robe and saw what was waiting. “Wow, but your polka dot shorts look great,” he said. (confirmation: my boyfriend is the sweetest.)

It took us a while to admit that we forgot to wrap the condom. Because I’m not a birth control, I don’t want to have kids now, and I didn’t want to have sex at first, so we decided to snuggle. (we both have no super disappointed, although I am a little wonder if he lied to condom situation because of the sex – when you start to formal personnel initiate sex, really scared.)

Back in our apartment the next day, I launched my theory of condoms. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replied, forgetting that the condom was a tragic mistake. “I love to see you touching your sexuality this way – all of these clothes make me feel moved, and whatever you’re wearing will open me up. As if to prove his point, he took off his wet my clothes (we just got back from a 80 – degree heat to ride a bicycle), took me to the bedroom, in the afternoon at noon we had sex.

A tenant (Ben’s sister) threw a wrench in my seven-day plan – she planned a spontaneous trip and was ready to spend three nights on our sofa. When we lived in a one-bedroom apartment, the walls were thin, and I didn’t want to walk all the way to her brother’s ear. But the winning streak is a winning streak and I don’t want to let our newfound sexual peak flounder. So I had to think strategically about putting on a normal PJ outside our bedroom. In the bedroom, I picked up a low-maintenance, pure black climbing coat and wanted to know how to respond to a piece of clothing that was actually to confuse people (and/or make diapers harder).

But before I had a chance to change my pajamas, he went to sleep. “It’s over? He asked him when he saw me, referring to the underwear I was wearing the other night. He didn’t know, but my challenge shouldn’t end so soon. So I took a very bold move and pulled my T-shirt off my head and slid out of my shorts, so I only had a pair of pants left. It’s not a formal underwear coat, but it’s less than the one I wore the night before. We snuggled up to the skin and finally had sex again (the air conditioner was in the background noise). According to my statistics, I have nine orgasms on a long weekend. Life is good! So I vowed to pick up my underwear the next day.

I was particularly excited about the night, mainly because it was two nights and didn’t need underwear. I came to my underwear and felt more confident – especially when I was in Pennsylvania the night before, and I was disappointed. This confirms that he is on something sexy, even if he sees it on consecutive nights.

Surprising Ben with his new outfit feels like a game I can easily win by admitting rules: like, you know men like women to wear sexy stuff. So, if you want to be a sexy girlfriend, you wear it, you effortlessly dominate anything, competing for your boyfriend’s attention (goodbye, phone!). . Besides, Ben and I have always been super affectionate, just like he can’t take his hand away from me at night.

When we and his sister (is still on our sofa bed) said that after a good night, go to the bathroom to wash a bath, I changed my computer pajamas to black climb clothes, made of I didn’t plan later. Then I slid onto the bed. When Ben and I were together, he was happy again. We turned on AC, sexy super quiet.

Ben’s sister went out with some friends at night, so we ended up staying in our apartment. It’s a perfect night to wear something elastic: a pink, lace, innocent jumpsuit with a nice slit in the crotch. This is something I have never thought of wearing before, not to mention wearing confidence.

But six nights in a row, I still don’t have much humility, and one (god bless his) boyfriend still seems to crave more.

So I got dizzy with confidence. I laughed when I looked in the mirror. ^ h traffic is crazy like this? I want to. He’ll love it.

When Ben walked into the bedroom and saw me squeezed under a sheet, he seemed more interested than interested.

“Well, wow,” he began as he peeled the blanket away. “You know I love this, but I hope you don’t spend all your money on these things,” he said, and his usefulness stimulated the mood. For a second, I don’t feel sexy but stupid.

“Aren’t you writing this for work? Are you writing a story? Do you have anything for free? He said to me. I confessed and told him about the seven-day experiment.

I never intended not to tell Ben. At the time, if I was surprised, I thought we’d have more fun. We are really happy! Loads and loads of toes curl, neighbors wake up fun.

We have a super-intimate, sexual week that feels particularly close. Here, he thinks he has the best girlfriend in the world – a man who decides to upgrade her pajamas from the goodness of her heart and the desire to please him. Then, all of a sudden, he was covered by an ulterior motive and the prospect of an audience peeping into his sex life.

Ben accused me of cheating on everything I did this week. He said: “it’s not true, you will never wear these things for me, and we won’t have so many genders. In my pink pink drama, I realized he was right.

But only part of it. Intimacy, sex, I’m wearing something sexy, I’m developing confidence – it’s all real business. And I would not voluntarily go to my comfort zone from any of the old tasks. I’m for Ben.

For me, it was clear that the most spurious part of our hot week was underwear. Before the challenge, I felt that women’s underwear was simply a dress worn by women to show their partner. But my relationship with Ben is much deeper than the theater. In real life – in our lives – sex is not a performance, and temptation shouldn’t require clothes. After all, we’ve always had amazing sex, no underwear.

Feeling very guilty and tearful, I clumsily rushed out of my jumpsuit, back to my PJ shorts and vest, and folded into the fetal position beside my bed. “I’m not mad at you,” Ben said. “I just need to digest it.”

On the last official evening of my challenge, I felt particularly conflicted. I have become fond of wearing luxurious pajamas. It was dressed in a boudoir and slept on the bed. It felt very elegant and gave me more confidence in my body. But I’m afraid I ruined my underwear for Ben.

Eventually, I decided to say the fuck. When I started thinking about Ben’s challenge, I knew I was the one who got the most out of it. The short six night shorts make me feel comfortable, in my skin and in my bed. In addition, I feel that it’s easy to slip on any old PJ. So I picked out a clipping tank and picked out my underwear from my collection. They are sexy but full coverage, so I don’t feel like I’m trying too hard.

“I wear this because I feel good, so you know,” I told Ben when I entered the bedroom.

“You look great,” he said. “Come here. Then he picked up the cover and let me climb to the bed next to him.

We had amazing sex that night. Now he has betrayed him, and for the sake of dressing up, I’m going to keep my new things in the regular rotation of PJ – but not just for Ben. In order to me.

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