PANTY LINES

eyelashesPANTY LINES
by Paul Beckman
In a weak moment my wife confided in me.
I love weak moments in other people.
Every now and then, actually quite often, I would ask my wife Elaine why she wore panties to bed. Because I get cold at night she would tell me.
It made sense to me because in the winter I left the windows open at night, and in the summer I kept the air conditioning at 65 degrees.
“Take off your panties,” I would say and Elaine would take off her panties. And then we would make love and I would grab on to her ass or fondle it. And believe me, it was an ass made to grab on to, or to fondle.
After Elaine and I make love she always puts her panties back on and we talk for a while or snuggle or watch TV. Then we roll over onto our sides and go to sleep with our asses caressing each other.
Last night I walked into the bedroom and she was lying on the bed reading and wearing only her panties. I crawled on top of the bed and slipped her pink panties off and she dropped her book and we played around for a while and I said, “Elaine, tell me. What’s with the panty deal?”
“What do you mean, Mirsky?”
“What’s with them,” I asked again. “How come you always wear panties? You say you get cold but you never wear anything else. I’ve always heard that a hat keeps your whole body warm. You know—heat rising and all that stuff.”
“Are you saying that I should wear a hat to bed? Would that really make you happier, Mirsky?” she asked. “Or do you want me to wear my panties on my head?”
I sat there imagining both possibilities when the silence and my thought bubbles were suddenly burst.
“Well, Mirsky I’ll tell you,” she said in a weak moment. I knew it was a weak moment because she had three glasses of wine and she’s a two-glass woman. “If I don’t wear panties,” she giggled, “I dream that I’m naked.”
“I’m glad there’s no combat boots in your dreams,” I say mockingly.
“No. It’s true,” Elaine says. “It never fails. If I go to sleep without panties I always dream that I’m naked.”
“Are these sex dreams?” I ask tentatively.
“Sometimes, but rarely. Usually they are work dreams. I’ll be talking to a group in a meeting and suddenly I think, ‘Elaine, you’re not wearing any panties,’ and then I’ll look down and I’ll be totally naked.”
“Then what happens,” I ask, getting more than a little excited.
“I wake up.”
“That’s it? You wake up?”
“Every time,” she says. “As soon as I realize that I’m naked I wake up embarrassed and put on my panties and go back to sleep.”
“Do you return to your dream?”
“Never.”
“Are you always at work?”
“No. Sometimes I’m getting gas or shopping at the grocery store or whatever.”
“What about those rare sex dreams?” I ask, treading into the unknown
“What about them?” she asks.
“Well, for instance, do you wake up then when you realize that you have no panties on?”
“Of course not silly,” she laughs.
“Like who are these sex dreams with? Movie stars, strangers, old boyfriends? Who?” I ask, afraid of the answer, but more afraid not to ask.
“They used to be with strangers until I met you,” Elaine says. “Now the sex dreams are only with us.”
It’s a great answer and I don’t care one way or another if she’s lying or not. I feel a great wave of relief. If she said something else I know we would have ended up in a real stupid argument over her getting laid by some stranger or old boyfriend in her dreams.
“How about you?” she asks.
“How about me what?” I ask stalling.
“Do you have sex dreams?”
“I hardly ever dream at all,” I tell her. “I wish that I did have sex dreams. I used to when I was younger and I’d wake up in the morning all sticky and satisfied and I would always have a wonderful day then.”
“Are you talking about wet dreams?”
“Right. Wet dreams are right up there with dreams of full houses in poker, or finding a wallet stuffed with money and no identification. Better even.”
“Do you have them any more?”
“No,” I say sadly.
Elaine picks up on my wistfulness and asks, “Do you wish that you still had them?”
“Damn right,” I tell her.
“Why would you want a wet dream when you could have me?” she wants to know,
“It’s a guy thing.” I tell her.
“So is bullshitting,” my bride says, and turns away from me putting her panties back on.

0 thoughts on “PANTY LINES

  1. I was really just ‘browsing’ on the site the other day when i read the first couple lines of this story and couldn’t stop reading. It really pulled me in and got me hooked from the get-go. Very enticing blend of eroticism and humor! The ending seemed so true to life–we guys are always opening our mouths and blowing a damned good thing. lmao! Great read!

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