It was the rarest of weekend days: a full, fat, open Saturday with no obligations. No friends, no parents, no concerts or dinner reservations or planned hikes or Sunday scaries. A blissful treat. The last thing we wanted to do was waste it. No pressure!
I am terrible at unwinding. It is impossible for me to sit still without feeling like I should be doing something productive. In some ways, this can be satisfying. Usually checking off just one item on my to-do list gives me mental permission to relax the rest of the day knowing I made a tiny bit of progress. Work and reward. Did I mention I’m a submissive?
Today, I cut the grass for the last time this year and winterized the mower. After lawn work, my clothes always stink of cut grass and gasoline. I went right to the laundry room and stripped down to my underwear and t-shirt. I was wearing a pair of onion skin shorts with a slit that ran up to the top of my thigh with zero support whatsoever and a silky polyester undershirt. I felt kinda sexy and figured eh, I’ll just hang out like this the rest of the day, we don’t have anything else going on.
“Nice onesie.” My wife was smirking at me from on the couch as she looked me over. Her narrow eyes and lingering glance told me she liked what she saw. I felt even sexier, so that’s how I stayed for the rest of the day. I felt comfortable, casual, relaxed and just the right amount of turned on. I felt no pressure to do anything other than chill on the couch and exist. It’s a rare headspace for me and I wanted to revel in it.
A lazy day called for a lazy meal, so we prepped a pot roast and let it braise in the oven all day. In the last half hour of cooking, we started on the mashed potatoes and while we waited for the water to boil, Sir looked me over again.
“Hey, why don’t you give me an orgasm while we wait for the potatoes?”
“Now!?” The suggestion met me right where my anxieties over fucking up a good meal and the danger of hot stoves overlapped. What if the entire house burned down? What if we ruined dinner? Could you ruin boiling water? What if it boiled too much? A ridiculous look into how my mind works sometimes.
“What else are we doing while we wait? We’ll be right here.”
I don’t think we’ve ever fucked in the kitchen before. Challenge accepted. I ran upstairs to get the vibrators and some lube. She leaned against the kitchen island and ordered me down on my knees and I eagerly went to work, kissing her labia on the outside of her pants, then licking her underwear when she unzipped. I buried my face into her pelvis and could smell her, but the underwear prevented me from tasting her. I was so turned on. She rested a bare foot on my thigh to prop her self up like a hunter standing on her prey and she pulled down her underwear so I could worship her properly. She chose a vibrator and I worked my fingers and she came hard, back bowed against the kitchen island while the water came to a boil.
That was hot as fuck. We smirked at each other. How daring, we fucked while the water boiled.
A while later, the roast still wasn’t ready and we had more time to kill.
“How about I use your dick for another orgasm?”
She had me lay down on the floor in front of the oven, still dressed in my t-shirt and underwear. She lowered herself onto my face and I began lapping and thrusting with my tongue while she got me hard. Satisfied, she moved down and pulled my underwear out of the way so she could lower herself onto me. I felt great. I was turned on, but mission focused. Give Sir an orgasm, don’t come.
She held me down, hands under my shirt and pinching my nipples while I thrusted. I was going to do well today, I could tell. I was in toy mode, made for use. Sir came quickly and we stood and cleaned up.
I was buzzing the rest of the day, my sexiness and submissiveness simmering throughout the evening. I wasn’t distractedly horny, nor was I was wishing we were doing even more sexy activities. I was completely comfortable and relaxed.
I did what I always tend to do and attempted to analyze what was going on. I think it was my outfit. My shorts with the slit, my junk swinging freely, and a silky smooth shirt that felt sensual on my skin and to my wife’s touch. There was no rough denim or cotton socks or buttoned up shirts to contend with. I was clothed, but I felt naked. Covered but open.
Sir asked me what about my outfit made me feel so sexy and at the time the best I could come up with was that it made me feel slutty. The slit up the side of my thigh, the tight shirt that hugged my upper body – I just felt like I was a little plaything, wearing a sexy uniform for someone else’s pleasure. But what does that mean, to feel slutty?
Usually when I am in “slave mode” I am completely naked, likely with collar and cuffs on. I enjoy being naked, but this outfit somehow felt more comfortable. I think being naked carries with it overt sexual expectations, which might not always be the vibe. My dick is there and open to be played with or used, but it’s almost too obvious. Sir loves consensual non-consent – as do I – and wearing the thinnest veneer of clothing gives her something to play with. It can be fully removed if she wants or bunched to the side so she can use my dick. She can run her hands along it and enjoy the texture when pinching my nipples, or admire how tight the shirt looks on my body. When I’m going down on her, I still feel like a submissive slave boy even though I technically have clothes on, but similar to the cock cage, wearing some skimpy underwear makes it feel like the focus isn’t on me. There’s just more to bite into and play with. Feeling slutty to me means feeling like my sexuality can be multiplied in many different directions. Compounded sensations, looks, scents, textures, and the desires of another create a sort of low-power sub space that I can tap into or come out of easily.
This isn’t to say I don’t still enjoy being kept naked, and there’s good fun to be had stripping layer by layer, but I have realized this week that wearing jeans and button up shirts all the time is uncomfortable. It feels restrictive and unsexy. It’s hard to be uncomfortable and also feel myself in my body. This skimpy little outfit has had the double effect of getting me to relax while making me feel like the sexy submissive I am.
Later that evening when I was finishing up the dishes, Sir came up behind me and pushed the underwear down far enough to start playing with my dick, edging me over and over again, pinning my hands behind my back and twisting my nipples. She asked if I thought she was going to allow me to come today and I said no, Sir.
“Good boy.”
She snapped my underwear back over my erect cock, smiled, and slapped me on the ass as she walked away. I thanked her for playing with her toy and finished up the dishes. We cuddled on the couch and watched television and played video games and I felt unwound. Fully clothed, technically, but also so easily available.
I think I’ll call the look “sexy casual.”
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