Straight: Husband and Wife:
Hubby Has a Nylon Secret
Author: mature_nylons Published: 9/18/2008 story views: 2904
Based on a true life experience, and I hope the first in a series.
For more than 25 years now I have had a very pleasant and privileged life living with my husband and two children, in a nice small town in an even nicer large house. My husband’s work, being what it is, means I have not had to work my entire life, but I do like to help out in the community when possible, usually with the church or volunteering at the charity shop in the high-street.
I like to think we have always had a nice sex life, but as with any relationship, the longer it got on the fewer times we actually made love. However, a couple of years ago Mike (my husband) seemed to get a little more passionate when we did have sex. Added to this, there also seemed to be a trend to when we had sex, usually after a function dinner, which I put down to the drink, or (and this worried me) on a night after my friend Victoria visited.
Victoria and I have been friends for years, ever since we went to school together, but then she married a city banker and moved away. We lost touch and I didn’t see her for over 15 years. Four years ago, they had a messy divorce and she moved back home to live, and we’ve been close again ever since. She has coffee two mornings a week at our house and I have coffee two mornings a week at hers.
Although very alike, Victoria and I are also very different. I HATE the word conservative, but if I have to admit, yes, I am. I am 46 but I look good for it. I wouldn’t be a fitness freak but I watch what I eat. I have blonde, shoulder length hair, I’m a 36D, I have a slim waist, and I have what I like to call ‘Mothering Hips’. Okay, I don’t have a skinny ass (remember I have two kids and I’m the wrong side of 40), but it is far from fat either. Victoria, although dark-haired, would be almost identical, but the difference between us is I always hid my body, whereas she flaunts it.
I don’t mean she is tartish; no, it’s just since her divorce she has let her hair down and wants to have fun. She likes to have her boobs tease, she likes to have her knees out, she like to have her heels high, and she loves to turn heads. Whereas with me it has always been pantsuits; long skirts; dark, fully buttoned blouses; and flat shoes. There has never been any hidden reason for how I dress; it’s just the way I dressed.
Mike started coming home at lunchtimes, which was nice. More times than not it was the days Victoria was here, which never really meant anything to me – until, more often than not, on the days he’d come home and she wasn’t here he’d usually leave early. This played on me a little after a while, and then I noticed that on the nights she was here, he was always very horny at night. I was sure something was up.
One afternoon he came home and Victoria and I were in the kitchen having coffee. He was his usual pleasant self, making polite talk with us both, when he saw that Victoria had been shopping and one of the bags she had was from an underwear shop.
“Treating yourself again Vicki? Something nice I trust?” he asked.
“No law against a girl wanting to feel good about herself, is there, Mike?” she replied defensively.
“No, not at all, I just thought that for a woman with your sense in clothing, I bet it’s a hot little number,” he teased.
“Oh, is that right? Been paying much attention have you?” she toyed back.
“What’s not to notice? It’s all out there and very nice too.”
Was I even in the room? What the hell was this, I thought? My husband was boldly flirting with my best friend while I was in the room. The fixed smile on my face started to ache as I wanted to drop it, but was struggling to keep it.
“Want to see?” Victoria asked. Bitch! I thought.
Without waiting for a reply, Victoria lifted the bag and removed a bra and panty set still on the hanger. It was floral in design, with pink lace trimming. The panty was a thong with a thin lace strip up the back. Oh, they were lovely, yes, but why was she showing my husband?
“This is my favourite,” she said and removed a sheer nylon body stocking with lace detail. I’d swear Mike almost choked, his face blazed, and then he was the one with the fixed smile that looked uncomfortable.
The next half hour passed with little event and Victoria said her goodbyes. I walked her to the door. I had to say something, but didn’t want to get angry, so I just kissed her on the cheek and jokingly apologised for Mike doing that to her.
“Oh don’t be silly,” she said, “It was fun. Did you see his face when I showed him the body stocking? That shut him up, ha ha. I’ll ring you later.” And with that she left.
Maybe she was right, maybe Mike just overstepped the line of being teasing and all she was doing was embarrassing him.
I returned to the kitchen and picked up the cups and took them to the sink to wash. Suddenly I felt Mike behind me. He put his hands around my hips and pulled me close. I could feel his hardness press between my butt cheeks, god, he was hard; it felt like he had an iron rod in his pants.
He kissed my neck hard and I moved to face him but he held me tight facing the sink. His hands cupped by breasts roughly and he grinded his hardness against me, I had to hold the sink with both hands to keep my balance. One hand left my chest and I could feel it pulling up the material of my skirt. It was a full-length skirt so it took a little while before I felt the hand against my skin, but when I did there was no ceremony in what he wanted to do. He gripped my hip with his hand, which was quickly joined by the other, and together they yanked my panties down. With the ecstasy building in me I could barely open my eyes fully, but from our kitchen window I was looking out I could see right into the conservatory of the house next door where old Mr and Mrs Windsor were sitting having afternoon tea and reading their papers.
“Mike, we have to move, I can see the Windsors”.
“Just close your eyes, I’m going nowhere,” he grunted, and with that I felt him enter me roughly from behind.
This was just not like Mike at all; we hadn’t had sex outside the bedroom in years. Mike is not small – I guess he is a good 8 inches – so he was able to get long strokes in without any problem. He was frantic, I suppose animalistic. What a sight we must have been, me over the sink holding on with white knuckles with my skirt up at the back and cascading down the front. Mike was still in his shirt and tie, with his suit pants around his ankles. Like two well-dressed dogs going at it in the park.
It didn’t last very long, but the whole time it did, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the elderly couple next door. I was petrified they’d look over and catch us, but I found the more I worried about it the more it was actually turning me on. So much so that even before Mike came I felt my knees buckle and a shuddering orgasm reached through my body. Seconds later Mike finished with 4 or 5 hard thrusts and then crumpled against my back.
Later, I was in our room drying my hair after a shower when Mike came over and kissed me.
“I don’t know where that came from honey, but thanks,” he said with his boyish smile.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer but I had to ask, “Mike, just who were you fucking in the kitchen?”
“What?” he said with total shock. I NEVER swear, I hate swearing.
“You only seem to come home at lunchtime when Victoria is here. You always get excited when she has been. And today you flirted with her like I wasn’t in the room. So tell me please, just who the hell’s ass where you fucking down the stairs?”
I was shaking with rage, it didn’t start that way but the issue was obviously burning in me more than I thought.
Mike looked like he was in the headlights of a speeding train. He stood mouth agape for what felt like ages, his eyes filled with shame and he sat beside me. Shit, I thought.
He whispered something inaudible.
“Pardon?” I asked.
Then he looked me in the eyes, held my hands and said, “Nylons.”
I was confused to say the least but over the next hour sitting there in our room he explained all.
He told me that since an early age, his biggest turn-on had always been legs, but more specifically nylons. As an adolescent, he used to get off by looking at the pictures of nylons and pantyhose in his mother’s catalogues. He explained that it was primarily the touch but just the sight was enough. He told me that he liked stockings but preferred pantyhose and tights, and it was even sexier if there were no panties being wore underneath. He explained that as I never wore them it just sort of went away, it just wasn’t an issue, but then when Victoria came back into my life it resurfaced. I hadn’t noticed, but yes, Victoria always wore nylons; I just remembered her always in skirts, I never thought about the nylons.
He said he loved looking at her legs because of the nylons, not because it was her. I had my doubts about that, but then when he backed this up by telling me about the nights we went to functions where all the ladies were dressed in gowns and cocktail dresses with their nylons and it would drive him wild, I believed him.
I kissed him, and the two of us lay down on the bed and just held each other until our son came in from school.
I vowed at that point I would change, and surprisingly started to get excited at the thought.
To Be Continued…
As I said at the beginning, this is based on my experiences, of which I intended to put more, hotter ones in this story. I felt in the end I had to tell all in how it got started, so I’ll put more in the next stories.