John Wears Lingerie | How To Secretly Wear Lingerie
Ever wondered how to wear lingerie without anyone knowing? Take some hints and tips from John, a married man and father of two who manages to wear lingerie without anyone knowing at all...
John slipped into a comfortable pair of Olga panties, the rosy ones with the extra lacy waistband which fit so snugly around his midriff. Behind him, his wife Jocelyn stirred in her sleep and he hurriedly yanked on his work pants, unwilling to engage in another fashion battle with his dear wife. It was too early in the morning to be defeated, humiliated and sent to work in the scratchy cotton jockeys with the bulky waistbands which she insisted he wear. Oh she never said as much, of course, but she was forever buying the things, even going so far as to stash them in her own lingerie drawer where he was sure to find him.
He cast a furtive eye behind him, smiling slightly as shafts of thin sunlight sifted through the edges of the curtain, falling upon her slightly puffy, slightly lined face. She had borne him two children and the once vibrant blond hair and blue eyes which had entranced him and captured his heart back in the mid 80's had faded with the years, but he loved her still, even if he did secretly think he looked better in his lingerie than she did in hers.
“Would you like a coffee, darling?” he asked, knowing she was probably emerging from the last vestiges of another sleepless night.
Awaiting her reply, he slipped a woolen vest over his head and cringed momentarily at its rough embrace. Eying the corner of the camisole still protruding out from under his socks, he was tempted, but Jocelyn was fast rising into full consciousness.
“Yes, please,” Jocelyn mumbled. Tumbling out of bed, her golden mane tossed this way and that, she donned her blue dressing gown and disappeared into the bathroom where she worked her lady magic.
John seized the moment, grabbing a pair of knee high opaque nylon stockings and high tailing it into the lounge, where his size 10 shoes were still strewn about under the coffee table from the night before. In the quiet of the dawn, he rolled each stocking down to the toe, then slowly slipped it over his foot and unrolled it up over shaved skin, each inch feeling better than the last. His only regret was that they stopped so soon, and all the tugging in the world wouldn't pull them up over his kneecaps and toward his waiting thighs.
Resigned to their shortness, he pulled on his thick, slick leather shoes and laced them tightly, grinning to himself as he felt his stocking clad feet slide inside his shoes. It was going to be a good day.
Jocelyn emerged from their bedroom looking stunning, her long blonde hair washed and straightened, her silk bathrobe hanging loose enough to reveal a smidgin of cleavage. She smiled at seeing her handsome husband and straightened his tie before he handed her a cup of coffee, milk, no sugar. She smelled faintly of roses and angels.
They made pleasant small talk over breakfast, discussing their lunch plans for the day whilst the little television in the corner of the room blaring with the sounds of angry protesters bleeding from clashes with government forces in some place just far enough away that the USA might one day bomb it.
“Shoot, I'm late!” John exclaimed as the 8 o'clock news came on with the real news, a story about a pig raising a pack of wolves.
“I'll be home at the usual time today, love you,” he pecked at his wife's lips, waved and was out the front door, tie streaming behind him as he rushed to catch the 8.04 bus, the one with the angry driver who took pleasure in waiting just long enough for John to approach the doors before closing them and driving away.
Watching her husband depart the family home, the lace of his panties clearly visible above his waistband where he had inadvertently tucked his shirt inside them in his rush to leave the house, Jocelyn smiled to herself, slipped into the bedroom, removed her robe, rolled down her pretty purple lace Victoria's Secret panties and slipped into some much more comfortable white Jockey Y fronts.
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