Diary of a Panty Lover's Wife Ch. 03

Suddenly, the door rattled as someone was trying to come in. "Shit!" He froze. A second passed that seemed like an hour. Okay. They realized it was taken and moved on, but adrenaline was now coursing through his veins. He let the panic subside. His legs were trembling. He checked himself out in the mirror again as the urge to orgasm grew. He was no longer thinking straight.

This is where I like him. This is where I have control. But I wasn't there. He would just have to wait.

He calmed down enough to step into the slip. He took his time to slowly slide it up his legs and to slip his arms through the thin straps. He relished the feeling of the tricot fabric as it slid up the smooth skin of his chest and back. The slip fell down a few inches past his butt. It was trimmed top and bottom with about an inch of lace. The straps were the ribbon-type that would lay flat, as opposed to the spaghetti straps that would show through a shirt. He picked up his pants to dig his phone out of the pocket. He knew that I would be asking to see the pictures and that he better have some. As he snapped a couple in the mirror, he pondered the thought of an entire airplane full of people right on the other side of this thin excuse for a door, while he stood inside admiring his smooth, hairless body in all of my underwear. His cock once again starting filling with cum, ready to release. He took a few deep breaths and resolved to control himself. He pulled his pants back on and tucked the slip into them. This would definitely improve the remainder of the flight.

As he put his polo shirt back on, he wondered if the slip would show through. If he pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, you could definitely see the straps, but as long as it hung loose, it wasn't too noticeable. All he had to do was get back to his seat. He stepped out of the bathroom and started up the aisle. "Are you serious?" he said almost audibly. The drink cart was now blocking the only way back to his seat. He couldn't exactly turn around and duck back into the bathroom. That would be obviously weird. He thought about hanging out back in the galley until the cart was gone, but there were a couple other passengers already back there, presumably because they couldn't return to their seats either. He just had to stand there in the aisle. He felt the eyes of the entire plane staring at his back, clearly making out those straps, and knowing that he was a cross-dressing pervert. He tried to hold his shoulders so that his shirt was as loose as possible. For an eternity he stood there under the scrutiny of every passenger aboard. Common sense should have convinced him that everyone else was busy in their own worlds, watching movies and working crossword puzzles. They had better things to do than to inspect the backs of all the other passengers looking for lingerie straps. Nobody noticed and nobody cared. But his mind was not being ruled by common sense. It was in a fragile state and he couldn't wait to get back to his seat.

Eventually the cart moved forward and he quickly sat down. Now that he wasn't on display and his back was no longer exposed, he relaxed and settled in to enjoy the last hour of the short flight to Boston. He reclined his seat, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. As he slowly shifted around in his seat, experiencing the different fabrics sliding across all the various parts of his body, he thought about me--his wife--and how much he enjoyed being married to me. Understanding? Yes. Accommodating? Yes. Amazing and wonderful? Yes and yes. He's smart enough to know that I indulge his fantasies for my own selfish purposes. But I indulge them, and that's what he appreciates.

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I met him by the ticket counter where I had just finished checking my suitcase. Normally, I would have met him at the gate so that he didn't have to go in and out of security again. But the international flights left out of a different terminal than where he arrived, so he would have to go through all the hassle anyway. He had a stupid grin on his face that communicated to me that he appreciated my efforts so far. As he kissed me, I put my hands half on his sides, half on his ass and pulled him close. I could feel the slip underneath his pants, and I used my hands to slide it along his nylon-covered hips. His cock registered his response and he pressed it into me. "So," I asked, "Did you have a good flight?" He answered by pulling my hips harder against his erection. He was just about ready to dry hump me in the ticket lobby when I told him to cool it. "We have a seven hour flight for all that," I smiled.

We made our way to security and got into the line. "Oh no!" he whispered to me. "I didn't think about going through security again. I don't have any socks on!" Funny! I hadn't even thought about that until now. He was right.

"Well," I answered, "I'd give you mine, but I'm not wearing any either." I was in a summer dress, stockings, and ballet flats. (I don't normally run around wearing stockings, but I wanted to make sure he had full access to my pussy later.) "You might just have to walk through. I doubt anyone will notice. They'll just look like thin dress socks." I knew that was a lie, but I didn't know what else to tell him. "I'll walk in front of you. It'll be fine." I understand the embarrassment, but practically speaking, nobody in that airport knew him, and he would never see any of them again, so what difference did it really make? Up to this point he had been wearing his backpack to ensure that the straps from his slip were covered. As he took it off to put it on the conveyor, I noticed it had pressed some tell-tale lingerie marks into the back of his shirt. "Never mind," I said. "I'll walk behind you."

He turned a little red as he removed his shoes and placed them on the belt. He moved slowly and kept his pant legs pulled down as low as possible, but his feet were clearly on display as he walked through the metal detector. I walked through as close behind him as they would let me, my exposed feet looking remarkably similar to his, except that my toenails were painted. I laughed inside. I should have painted his. "Next time," I smiled. As part of the TSA agent's visual scan, he glanced down at my husband's feet. Something looked not totally normal, but whatever. I'm not sure he put two and two together. If he did, there was no reaction. "What if he got pulled for additional screening now?" I thought. "Oh, my goodness. He would just die!" Luckily for him, the agent just motioned us on. He grabbed his shoes off the belt as soon as they came out and slid his feet back in. As he swung his backpack around and stretched his arms back to get them into the straps, I could just make out the lace of the slip across his chest. I looked down and couldn't help but notice that the entire experience had reinflated his member. Goodness! By the looks of it, he was pretty horny.

We boarded our flight without further incident. When we fly together, we always book the window and the aisle. If someone happens to be in the middle seat, they're always eager to trade for the aisle, and we can still sit together. More often than not, however, nobody books the middle seat, so then we get the whole row to ourselves. Such was the case tonight! The all-nighter to London must not have been as popular as I thought. Or maybe it didn't seem as full because this plane was so much bigger. Who knows? But I knew that with nobody else in our row, this would be a fun flight! He took the window seat and I climbed into the middle. I folded up the armrest between us so my hands could wander. The flight attendant handed out small, blue blankets for the overnight flight and asked whether we preferred white wine or red with our dinner. "Oooh. I like this airline!" She told us that the lights would be off in the cabin so that people could sleep. Perfect.

My husband has always had a thing for flight attendants. I think in his mind, it's still a flying sexcapade like decades ago, when as soon as they landed, the flight attendants and pilots would rush off to the hotel for drinks and uninhibited sexual adventure. I've met enough flight attendants to know that's not the way it is anymore. But he still assumes they're all sexually charged, young girls, ready for a one night stand with any passenger who proves flashy enough. That's fine. Let your mind wander. He especially appreciates airlines like British Airways that still have their flight attendants wearing skirts and pantyhose. Every time a flight attendant would come by, he would follow her legs with his eyes and I would gently rub his cock through his pants.

A half hour or so after takeoff, the seatbelt sign went out, and you could hear the familiar clicks as people all over the plane removed them. He reclined his seat, got comfortable, and took his shoes off. His feet were pretty well hidden under the seat in front of him and the lights were turned down pretty low in the cabin, so it was safe. I turned towards him in my seat, trying to find a position that would be comfortable for the next several hours. I had my head resting on his shoulder and my hand on his chest. I was slowly moving my hand around on this chest and stomach, which just looked like benign cuddling to anyone watching, but it was, in reality, nearly causing my husband to orgasm. He was already wound up pretty tight from earlier in the evening, and me sliding his slip around over his body was almost too much. I could see his nipples poking out of his shirt as the slip grazed back and forth across them.

He placed the blanket over his lap so his hard-on wouldn't be so obvious. I took every opportunity to reach my hand under the blanket and into his pants. Man, he was rock hard! I pulled the bottom of the slip out of his pants. Now he couldn't move the blanket. I slid my hand back in his pants and gently ran my thumbnail down the length of his cock through the nylon. His legs extended straight out like he was stretching and his toes curled under. He had his tells. I knew he was on the edge. I was starting to get a little turned on, too. I engineered this entire flight to be all about him, but I was getting a little excited at his responses.

I wanted more. "Take off your pants," I whispered into his ear. He gave me a look that said he wasn't so sure about that. "It's dark," I went on. "You have a blanket. Take them off." I don't think he would have ever done this normally, but this is what he's willing to do when you drive him into this state of mind. He is so desperately horny that he will do anything you ask. He slowly lifted off the seat and pulled his pants down past his butt. Then he slowly, without moving much, slid them down his legs until he could kick them completely off at his feet. I reached down, gathered up his shoes and pants and placed them neatly into the overhead bin. He looked at me wide-eyed. Guess he won't be going anywhere soon. The blanket was barely long enough to go from his lap to his ankles. With his feet shoved under the chair in front of him, he was basically trapped. The thought of this turned both of us on.

I remember when we were dating. I was a senior in high school and he was in college. My senior graduation party wasn't a huge ordeal, since I went to a small Christian school. It basically consisted of going out to a nice dinner and then going to someone's house to watch a couple movies. He was my date. I was dressed in some of his favorite things because I wanted his hands to be all over me. Black canvas dress that zipped up the back, slinky black slip, some dark pantyhose (not unlike the ones he was currently wearing) and matching bra and panties. The lights were turned down for the movie and I remember laying under a blanket on one of the couches "watching" the TV. He was sitting up and my head was on his lap. As he sat there also "watching," my hand was on his dick, manipulating him into whatever behavior I desired. His left hand slowly found its way under the blanket to join my young and eager body. Eventually my dress was unzipped, my arms were out of both the dress and the slip, and both were bunched up somewhere near my feet. I remember the thrill that in this room full of oblivious people, I was in my bra and panties under this blanket while his hand had free reign to explore whatever it wanted.

Now, years later, here was my husband, experiencing the same thrill by the looks of it. 200 plus people on this plane. Passengers and flight attendants periodically walking by, completely unaware that under this short, thin blanket was my desperately horny husband in nothing but a satin pair of floral bikini panties, sheer pantyhose, and a lace trimmed slip that extended from under his shirt. He tried to get himself under control but could not stop rubbing the blanket over his crotch.

Before long, the flight attendant came by offering dinner. We told her no, not this late. She smiled and asked if we were comfortable or if we needed anything. My husband just sat there quietly staring at her legs, but otherwise trying to act normal and keeping his feet out of sight. I told her I wouldn't mind the little bottle of red wine even though we weren't eating. She smiled again, gave me two bottles, and started tending to the people in the middle section. As she leaned away from us serving food to the passengers across the aisle, my husband could see far enough up her skirt to know she was wearing stockings. A wide band of lace held them up on her thighs, and he tried in vain to ascertain what sort of panties she had on. Without conscious effort or awareness, his hand was rubbing his cock again.

I opened one of the bottles and took two healthy "sips". Oh, red wine! I don't know why, but red wine goes straight to my vagina. The first good slug hits my belly, and the warm feeling spreads from there straight to my labia, which almost instantly start to swell. The second slug lubricates her and I am ready for business. I finished that bottle and figured I would save the other one for a little later.

I could tell hubby was in a bad state. I saw his hand disappear under the blanket and I knew I needed to intervene before he lost it. I reached over and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling his hand out from under the blanket. Since we had the row to ourselves, I laid down on my side with my head toward the aisle. My feet were still down on the floor and ass was almost right up against him. I had my own blanket, which covered my thighs and body. In this position, he knew exactly what to do. He stuck his hand under my blanket, pulled up my skirt, and followed my legs up to my pussy. This is why I wore stockings. He had no idea until now that I wasn't wearing regular pantyhose. When his hand felt the lacy hold-up band at the top and he visualized the flight attendant's stocking just a few minutes before, his mind went into overload. He moved my panties aside, found my wet slit, and began sliding his fingers in and out. His thumb came to rest on my clit and he applied a little pressure each time his fingers went in. My body desperately wanted to writhe around on the seat, moaning with pleasure, but it couldn't. Every bit of my self-control was focused on laying still and quiet so nobody else would know what was happening. Just like at my graduation party. I laid there for what seemed like hours while he pleasured me. Not to orgasm, but close. My pulse was rapid and my breaths had become short. I wanted it bad.

This needed to end soon. I sat up and shook off my happy delirium. "I have one more package for you," I said. I pulled my carry-on out from under the seat and dug out a paper bag. "Go to the bathroom." He looked at me like I was crazy and it eventually dawned on me that he had no pants on. I reached up into the overhead and pulled out his pants. No shoes. Just pants. Sliding pants off with nobody in the airplane noticing was one thing. Trying to inconspicuously put them back on took a lot longer. Eventually, he got them on and got his slip tucked backed in. He took the package and headed to the bathroom. He didn't even care anymore that his feet showed. Besides, most of the plane was asleep by now. He hurried down the aisle.

"This one is definitely heavier than the others," he thought, but he wasn't going to waste time trying to guess what it was. He locked himself in the bathroom and frantically tore open the bag. Out came a steel anal plug. This is not something he had ever expressed interest in. Although we'd gotten adventurous over the years trying out different things, he made it clear he wasn't into getting drilled in the ass with a strap-on or anything like that. But this was different. I had told him before that if he wanted to know what it felt like to have an orgasm as a woman, he needed to feel something inside him. He needed to have something to squeeze when he climaxed. I recently ordered this and was eager for him to try it. He probably wouldn't have agreed to it if his mind was in any condition to say no. But it wasn't. He had been on the verge of orgasm for hours now and, at this point, it wouldn't have mattered what I asked him to do. The plug was only about four inches long and an inch-and-a-half wide at the base. He looked at it, pondered his options for a minute, then pulled his panties down.

Also in the bag was a single-use packet of lube. Like a ketchup packet. It's amazing what you can get from Adam & Eve. He applied the contents of the packet and then set about to find the most comfortable position for insertion. Half squatting, half standing, with one foot on the toilet and his cock sticking straight out like an iron rod, he touched the cold tip of the plug to his ass. "Relax," he told himself. "Just slide it in." It took a minute for his sphincter to accept the idea that something was coming in. He tried pushing it in but realized that wasn't going to work. "Just ease it in slowly." His ass opened a little wider and he began making slow progress. At times, his cock twitched, contracting his muscles, and he squeezed it back out a little. "Easy." His ass stretched wider than he felt it had ever been and he wondered how much more he could take. He relaxed his muscles as much as his brain would allow and gently pushed it farther. His dick was about to explode. Trying to keep his muscles relaxed allowed his dick to engorge. Precum was being forced out of the tip and dribbling everywhere. Just when he thought his ass couldn't stretch any farther, the wide shoulder of the plug passed his sphincter, which involuntarily clamped shut behind it, forcing the last bit of it inside him. He immediately felt the fullness inside him as his ass squeezed the shaft like a bear trap. His dick swelled, veins throbbed, and his body prepared to fire off his load. "No! Wait! Calm down." He held his breath to get himself under control. He gave his erection a minute to calm down and then pulled his underwear and pants back up.

He made his way back to his seat, experiencing the new sensations in his ass as the plug shifted from side to side with each step he took. I got up to let him back into his window seat. He had a crazed look in his eyes. Good. As he sat down, the plug pushed deeper inside him. He grabbed the blanket and in one maneuver covered himself up and slid his pants down. He kicked his pants off his feet and just sat there, breathing heavy, not knowing what to do. I reached my hand under the blanket. He was so engorged with blood, I swear I could feel the veins of his dick through his pantyhose. The air over the Atlantic was just a little bumpy that night, and each time the plane hit a small air pocket, the plug would push into him and I could feel the resultant throb in his cock.

I pulled up my skirt just enough for him to see my stocking tops. He grabbed my inner thigh and held on for dear life. I slowly, inconspicuously reached my left hand under his panties and wrapped my fingers around his erection. I felt his belly tighten and his shaft filled with cum. This was it! I turned sideways in my chair so the other passengers couldn't see, and I pulled the blanket back far enough for us to enjoy the view. Even in the dim light, he could see the deep blue flowers against the white satin of his delicate panties, the shine of his pantyhose, and the bright white lace trim at the bottom of his slip. He looked down to discover his left leg was partially exposed and he could see all the way down to his pantyhosed feet. Finally, he could make out the backs of my knuckles through the fabric of his underwear as I gave his cock one final squeeze. With my other hand I grabbed his balls through the nylons and used my fingers to push the plug in as far as it would go. His cock exploded. I quickly pulled my hand out as the first shot soaked the front of his panties. Without pausing I pulled the blanket back up and turned back into my seat before anything looked to suspicious. I kept my left hand under the blanket resting on his convulsing cock. With each contraction, his ass squeezed frantically against the shaft of the plug. I could feel five or six loads get ejected before it finally subsided. His dick continued to sporadically twitch for another minute or two. I peeked under the blanket. He was soaked.