I’d stumbled out of bed, thrown on the first shirt I found, and walked into the kitchen to help make lunches for the kids. The first shirt was his shirt. With only one button done in the middle. My ass hung out, and my cunt was exposed. I looked less like a tired mom and more like a debauched slut, and I was okay with that.
Later, as I closed in for my morning hug, he reached out for that one lone button. I danced back, and we played as if he wouldn’t eventually win. As he buried his face between warm, soft tits, his hand snaked up, and grabbed the shirt. I pretended to want to get away.
With a quick snap of his fingers, his shirt opened.
“There, that’s better. And how it should have been all along.”
Well, I can’t argue with him there. But he missed the best view a few minutes later…
Wearing my Sir’s shirts is one of the highlights of my day…and I know he enjoys it as well. I need to start cooking breakfast in them 🙂 thanks for the idea. I enjoy your writing so much!
LOL, you’re VERY welcome! I try to put on one of JB’s shirts every morning so I can wear it until I take a shower. 😀
I’ve said it beofre and I’ll say it again. You look much better in my shirts then I do.
I guess I just have to keep wearing them, lol.
Perhaps it is the manor with which you not only advocate and inspire the solo activities that one of my dear friends a sexologist author and inexplicable healer of the human condition encourages women and men in an out of relations’ to be therapeutic and healthy endeavors.but thinking of those pretty boobs and your artistic abilities of linear expression and of course your prolific adage” where getting off is all the fun” no need to stop being nude waist the heat of the moment and apply the superlative recommendations of the aforementioned incredible ladies whom I blindly and willfully enjoy being a co conspirator in the overthrow of boredom repression and lack of orgasmic discourse a hands on approach
[…] love wearing his shirt. Thankfully, he loves when I wear it, […]