[Janethebrain]

A story from this past weekend. My husband Frank had one of his college buddies stay with us on Friday and Saturday, he was in town for a conference, and Frank offered him our spare room since we live about 20 minutes from the conference center. Frank and I didn’t meet until our late 30’s so I don’t know any of his college friends, and have only met a couple of them since we’ve been together. So I didn’t know what to expect other than from looking him up on Facebook, and the fact that Frank had said that he was really outgoing, although compared to Frank that doesn’t mean much. His name is Alan, he’s married but has no kids.

When I got home from work on Friday, I quickly shed my skirt and blouse and bra and heels and put on my softest pajama bottoms and a tank top. This was my go to outfit for laying around the house, and I initially just put it on out of habit. I went downstairs, poured a glass of wine, and flipped on the TV. After a few minutes I decided to check out the fridge and see what to make for dinner. I’m not sure why, but the instant I opened the fridge I suddenly remembered that Alan was staying with us that night. My next thought was that I wasn’t dressed for company and that I should go change or at least put a bra back on. It wasn’t so much that I felt indecently dressed, but more that I should make a good impression for Frank’s friend.

I will later lie about all of this to Frank, as you will hear in a few minutes, but I actually went upstairs and laid out a couple different casual outfits that I could wear. And as I did, I started thinking about how if I wore that skirt I could accidentally flash my panties, or how that shirt had buttons that pulled apart when I tucked it in right. The other ladies on this forum will back me up on this, we know which clothes show which body parts, and we think about it most of the time. I was getting turned on thinking about accidentally showing off a bit.

I debated on my outfit for quite a while, the fact that I was getting turned on was not helping me decide what to wear. I went into the bathroom to touch up my makeup, and when I looked in the mirror I discovered that the tank top I was wearing was very different depending on the light. In the bright lights of the bathroom you could easily see the darker color of my nipples, but in the bedroom you could see nip bumps, but couldn’t make out the actual nipple.

I went downstairs with a hand mirror and started turning lights on and off to see how transparent it made my shirt. I was pleasantly surprised to find that depending where I was standing, and which lights were on, I could totally control how much of my boobs were on display. And by the window with the afternoon sun streaming in, if I turned sideways you could see through the shirt completely and see a perfect silhouette of my tits. I went into the basement and did the same thing. Because of the low ceiling and recessed lights, it all came down to where I was standing. Directly under a light, nipples clear as day. A few steps to either side, you could tell I was braless, but I would have been comfortable in front of my brother or father dressed like that.

I wondered briefly how I had never noticed this before, and my only thought is that I usually wear that tank top with a sports bra when I run, and I don’t give it a second thought if Frank and I are just hanging out binge-watching Netflix. Whatever, now I knew and I had my decision about what to wear that evening, I was staying as is.

I started thinking about Frank’s reaction, and I was pretty sure he would pull me aside and ask me to put on something more conservative in front of Alan, so I worked out a plan. Yes, I actually thought all this through, and yes it worked perfectly.

I left a skirt and blouse and bra lying on the bed, as if I was planning to put them on and then went downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter drinking my wine. I was going to let myself get “caught” pulling stuff out of the fridge for dinner. I would pre-empt any Frank comments by acknowledging that I was not dressed for company, and then charmingly begging them “is it ok if I stay comfortable tonight, I’ve had a long week.” When Frank went upstairs to change, he would see that I had an outfit all laid out, and wouldn’t think that I planned the whole thing. That was my plan.

As I drank my second glass of wine, Frank texted that they were getting close, and I told him to pick up more wine, which was one of the ways I signal that we should have sex that night. He said he would definitely get some wine, in a way that I recognized as “yes let’s have sex tonight” - I think most married couples have codes like this.

So the stage was set, I have my plan, and my plausible deniability if it doesn’t work. I have two glasses of wine in me and I’m ready to go.

To be continued...