Nightgown Nerves

I wore lingerie once, when I was very young and unsure of myself. I put on makeup and made sure my hair was perfect. I was a bundled of nerves wrapped in silk and lace, and just as fragile. And my partner of the time walked right by me, not even complimenting or acknowledging the sexy attire.

I was crushed, I mentioned what I was wearing, and he still just muttered something and went back to what he was doing. I felt ugly, defeated, frustrated, and cried.

Looking back, I can acknowledge that he was emotionally abusive, that he was self absorbed, and really not interested in anything sex related unless it was on his terms.

But the younger me is still there, fragile and unsure, at times.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to sit on my lover’s lap, have him hold me. Getting out of bed, I went to put on a big tshirt (my normal pajama attire) and decided instead to put on a sexy nightgown I just got. I wanted to be sexy for him, it was just as easy to slip on as a shirt so I didn’t feel inconvenienced.

(I don’t wear sexy things for him (though this is slowly changing, unless we always know in advance we’re having sex and he’s normally there). There’s no risk-no surprise on his part and no disappointment on mine.)

Normally when I walk into the office, he is unwinding in front of the computer, and while he always welcomes my company, he doesn’t get off. I was okay with that, I just wanted to curl up on his lap.

I opened the door, he looked back, sat up, and took his hands off of his keyboard and mouse. He complimented me, not taking his eyes off of me. I didn’t even realize I was bundle of nerves until I felt myself relaxing. I didn’t expect that reaction. I crawled into his lap and his arms went around me; it was what I was hoping for.

And then his hand went to my hair and pulled it back, his mouth crashed down on mine. The other arm pulled me tighter to his chest. After a few breathtaking moments of this, he stopped, turned off his computer, and told me we were going to have sex.

I wasn’t expecting that. For one, we had already had amazing sex twice before he left me to be on the computer. For another, he got off of the computer.

I hopped off of his lap and went to the bedroom, I sat in the middle of our big bed. He followed in, apologized for not coming dressed to the party in just sweatpants as he stripped them off. I commented that him in just sweatpants was ridiculously sexy, and pondered if I should take off the silken nightgown. He pulled me down onto the bed with his body, his mouth once again ravaged mine, his fingers slipped into my folds, murmured his appreciation of the dampness already evident. He looked down as his fingers softly delved into my body, complimented my curves, told me how sexy and beautiful I was.  The other hand skimmed the silky surface of the fabric as he said these things, and the lace covering my breasts was soon pushed lower on one side by his fingers, his mouth came down to suck hard on one nipple while at the same time the other hand’s fingers were relentless suddenly – curled and rubbed my g-spot.

I instinctively raised my hips, came. He moved between my legs and slid in. Raised up by his arms, he paused fully inside of me, and asked, “ready to cum right away?” Before I could reply, he slid almost all the way out at just the right angle to rub a pleasurable spot, then back in. Keeping a steady rhythm, holding himself rigid at just the right angle, I orgasmed immediately.

Sometimes the way he knows my body astounds me.

Lowering himself to his elbows, he moved more vigorously, deeper. His hand tangled and pulled my hair as his mouth claimed my neck. There was nothing gentle about the pulling, nor him driving himself into me. It was as if he was driven to meld with me, he was so intense. I orgasmed again.

He moved up onto his knees and forcefully rolled me onto my side, slid in and pounded with the same intensity. My back arched and his hand went around my throat to keep me in that arched position, my clit rubbed one of his thighs as one leg was under him and one wrapped around the side of his body. Deep inside hit so many spots that by the time he changed positions again, I was dizzy and breathless. And the blessed silence of just being in the moment was so needed – it had been too long.

He moved to stand at the side of the bed and folded a pillow. “Don’t make me wait,” he warned; I scrambled to move to the side and propped my bottom on the pillow. Again, there was nothing gentle, his hands grabbed my hips and forced me to press even deeper against him with every forceful thrust. After climaxing a few times, he leaned over with his feet still on the floor, grabbed my head and whispered for me to make him cum, to tighten, to clench onto him, and fucking make him cum.

I don’t know if I was able to grasp him any tighter in my body, but through a haze of pleasure I still tried. He groaned after a few minutes and came, briefly rested his upper body on top of mine when he finished.

He crawled up on the bed, picked me up and moved me to the center, where his arms went around me as he laid on his side next to me, his knees bending under my own, forcing me into a small ball pressed into the center of his chest. I felt safe, cherished. He rubbed my hair, whispered compliments on how gorgeous I was.

After a few minutes, I got up to clean off, came back to a bed that he had smoothed the covers back into place, and slipped under the comforting weight of them and into the place on his chest where my head fit perfectly. I was vaguely aware of his fingers caressing my back as I fell immediately to sleep.

 

The morning’s reflections are still astounded by his reaction to the nightgown. Maybe I am sexy to him, maybe I will try to wear more sexy things without the reassurance of prior mutual planning. The unexpected happened, and it was glorious, after all.