*Rupali Joshi* (/Tuesday, 31 August 2010 04:33/)

      My birthday by Andrea
      My birthday fell on a Friday this year, and as it approached, I
      had been wondering if Andrew was planning anything special.
      Sometimes we each would go to great lengths to make the other's
      birthday very special. Other times, we might just go out for
      dinner at some fancy restaurant.
      Now Andrew is quite a clever man and has a seemingly endless
      supply of cute ideas and antics when it comes to me and our
      marriage. But this year, he outdid even himself!
      It began the morning of my birthday.
      When I woke up and rolled over to face Andrew, I found that he was
      awake and up on one elbow watching me. He smiled sweetly as I
      looked up at him.
      "So Sleeping Beauty finally awakens! Happy Birthday!"
      I was still a bit sleepy, but my mind was beginning to work. With
      a somewhat groggy voice, I said, "You've got the roles mixed up,
      don't you? Sleeping Beauty was the girl?"
      "Details, details. Just call it 'poetic license.'"
      Mentally, I was now quite functional, but I pretended to still be
      sleepy. "Is it my birthday already?"
      "You know very well it is! And now," Andrew continued in his
      matter-of-fact tone, "I thought we should do something special
      this morning."
      "Oh, yeah? What?"
      Andrew smiled brightly and leaned down and gave me a short kiss.
      Then he put his arm around me and snuggled up close. With his
      other hand he began caressing my face.
      "Well...I thought maybe..."
      His voice trailed off, and his hand started working its way down
      my chest, drawing little circles as it went.
      Perhaps some male wives are not fully aware of it, but females
      often wake up in quite an amorous mood. So over the years, there
      have been times when I tried to interest Andrew in some
      love-making before we got up in the morning. As he lay next to me
      in bed, I would snuggle up close and wake him with a few gentle
      caresses along his neck, shoulders, and breasts. He would awaken
      with a sweet sigh and a smile. Usually, he would snuggle up even
      closer. But when my escalating overtures made my intentions clear,
      Andrew, still with his sweetest smile, would caress my face...and
      shake his head no. He really was never much in the mood to make
      love in the morning. I rarely tried to tempt him anymore.
      That is what astonished me so much this morning. Andrew was really
      coming on to me!
      His hand had reached its final destination with very predictable
      results. That task done, he sat upright and pulled the covers
      down. My heart was already beating quite fast when he pulled up
      his nightshirt far enough so he could straddle me on his knees. In
      the process, I got a riveting flash of his bright red, satiny
      panties. Incredible what that can do to me! Andrew put his hands
      on my shoulders and leaned down to kiss me again. By this time, my
      passion was soaring. Reaching up between his spread legs, I began
      my own caresses.
      We made very sweet love, and it was a special birthday morning indeed.
      We were still lying in bed, and I had my arm around Andrew,
      stroking him lightly. His head was on my shoulder.
      "My breathing is only now getting back to normal. That was some
      wakeup call," I said.
      "Well, I thought it would be a nice way to send you off to school
      on your birthday. It sort of sets the stage for adventures that
      may lie ahead this evening."
      "We're going to have sex twice in one day?" I asked with
      enthusiasm. I did not say it, but that really would be a first.
      "Did I say anything about having sex again?" Andrew responded in a
      tone that seemed to ask how I could even think such an outrageous
      thing! "I just have a little surprise planned for you tonight," he
      added, his tone now dripping pure innocence and sweetness, just as
      if he was planning nothing more risque than an evening listening
      to our Mozart collection.
      This morning had brought a great deal of passionate pleasure. But
      of course that is when a peculiar paradox enters: once a pleasure
      is had, one can no longer look forward to it. I had anticipated
      looking forward to making love tonight.
      But later that morning a curious development took place. When I
      was ready to leave for school, Andrew kissed me goodbye with a lot
      more passion than our goodbye kisses normally entail. He smile and
      the look in his eyes were


      *Rupali Joshi* (/Tuesday, 31 August 2010 04:34/)

      through my hair while pressing himself firmly against me. When
      Andrew finally backed away, he certainly projected a flirtatious,
      tantalizing demeanor.
      "Happy birthday, and...see you tonight," he added in a low, sultry
      All day long I wondered what he was planning, this "adventure" of
      his. In his reference to this evening, in his goodbye kiss, and in
      his overall behavior, he had definitely been provocative. Yet, he
      seemed to deny having any plan to make love again tonight.
      Certainly it would be most unusual for him to go along with that,
      twice in one day, even if it was my birthday. So what could he
      have in mind?
      As the day dragged on, these thoughts were never far from my mind.
      During my lectures, I was able to keep my mind focused enough so
      that students probably noticed nothing amiss. However, this
      question, together with the vague excitement it produced, kept
      popping into my head.
      When I finally arrived home, the curiosity, mixed with a sense of
      anticipation, had reached a peak. However, I quickly felt a sense
      of disappointment. There was nothing unusual, except that a few
      pieces of furniture in the living room had been rearranged. Andrew
      was prone to do that every now and then. But nothing else: no
      candles, no fancy table setting, no music. In addition to all
      that, I noticed that there was nothing especially sexy about the
      clothes Andrew was wearing. Both the slacks and teeshirt were
      prudently loose. He greeted me with a short kiss, but there was
      none of the provocative mannerisms that were so clearly apparent
      in the morning.
      Maybe I had misinterpreted his earlier behavior.
      The only thing indicating that today was still my birthday was a
      small, wrapped present sitting on one of the end tables.
      "When do I get to open my present?"
      "Oh, later this evening, after the little surprise I'm planning."
      So I had not imagined it: Andrew really was planning a surprise
      for this evening, and it was not that little present on the table.
      Nothing unusual took place while we had dinner, but that vague
      excitement was beginning to build in me once again. What could his
      surprise be? Yes, sex was never far from my mind, and Andrew could
      look appealing to me no matter what he was wearing. But had he not
      in effect already said no? Well, that, of course, builds up my
      desire too. I decided then and there that I was going to make the
      most adroit advance possible when it was bedtime. So whether or
      not they would be fulfilled tonight, the old familiar passions
      were rising within me.
      After eating, we retired to the living room, and I took my usual
      place in my favorite reading chair. It was then that I noticed the
      effect of the rearranged furniture. My chair was now facing the sofa.
      Andrew sat down opposite me on the sofa. His eyes were suddenly
      sparkling with excitement. He must have put forth quite an effort
      to keep that excitement under control up to this point.
      "Now," he began, "you've probably been wondering what this
      surprise was that I had for you tonight." Now there was an
      understatement, and I have no doubt he knew it. "For some weeks
      now, I've been asking myself what a you would really like me to
      give him on your birthday."
      "Well, that's pretty easy. To ask the question is virtually to
      answer it," I butted in, smiling.
      "Yes, yes, I figured as much, and we did that this morning." he
      then assumed a decidedly pensive expression as he stared off to
      one side. "But I was wondering...would there be anything else?
      Perhaps something closely related...to what we did this morning."
      My heart started beating a bit faster.
      "Well, an idea came to me, and I got on the Internet to do a
      little research. But then I decided, no, I didn't think I could
      really pull that off with the proper result."
      "What was it?"
      "Oh, we won't go into that just now. But then I came up with a
      truly brilliant idea. Something that would absolutely drive you
      "Crazy in what way?" I was puzzled but nevertheless getting more
      excited by the minute.
      "Well, I'll try to put it as delicately as possible." I could tell
      by the impish lilt in his voice that what was about to come out
      would be the exact opposite of delicate description. "Drive you
      crazy with wild, uncontrollable, passionate desire...for me," he
      added with a bright smile, eyes twinkling.
      I laughed. "Yeah, that was delicate all right."
      All of a sudden, Andrew looked startled, then a little disappointed.


      *Rupali Joshi* (/Tuesday, 31 August 2010 04:34/)

      "Now look what happened! I've gotten ahead of myself. I shouldn't
      have said that."
      With Andrew, it was difficult to tell whether that was really
      true. Was he truly startled and disappointed? Andrew was quite the
      expert at using misdirection to set just the right mood before
      springing a surprise. There seemed to be no end to her adorably
      cute and clever antics.
      "No, we are just going to have a nice quiet evening of...shopping,
      shall we say."
      "Shopping?" That did not seem to fit the context here at all.
      "Yeah, in a sense. You see, I went out today and bought a bunch of
      new outfits."
      Now it was my turn to look startled. Of course, Andrew picked up
      on it immediately.
      "Don't worry, don't worry. No need to be alarmed when the next
      VISA bill arrives. I went around to the Salvation Army and
      Goodwill thrift stores. We've found some really nice clothes there
      before, sometimes virtually brand new. So...it's all very simple.
      We can easily re-donate anything that isn't quite right. I thought
      tonight that I could try it all on, and you could give me your
      Well, that put to rest any fears I might have had for the solvency
      of our family budget. But something did not quite seem to make
      sense. Normally, rendering an opinion on a new dress falls far
      short of driving me crazy--in any sense. But then, a thought
      struck me...
      "So, why don't we get started?" Andrew asked. He did not wait for
      my reply but walked off toward the bedroom and soon returned with
      a whole mound of clothes that he piled on one end of the sofa. He
      looked through the stack and pulled out a dress. Then he turned
      around and faced me.
      First he pulled off his teeshirt. He was wearing his prettiest
      bra, an underwire, lace-trimmed, very low-cut, white satiny bra.
      Then he unbuttoned his baggy slacks and lowed them enough to step
      out of them. Again, I was very pleasantly surprised. He had on a
      pair of his sexiest white, skin-tight, microfiber panties. Now
      both my heart and my breathing were a little faster. How that
      sight mesmerizes me! The tight waistband, accentuating the curves
      that gently swell outward at the hips, leading the eye inevitably
      downward to that ultra-seductive triangle of white.
      Did he seem to have undressed just a bit more slowly than usual?
      Andrew turned back toward the sofa to pick up the dress, but he
      seemed to put a subtle emphasis on bending over with his silky
      derriere directed at me. Maybe it was just my imagination in my
      current, very susceptible condition.
      He turned around again and made immediate eye contact, as if to
      check the level of my attention or perhaps to check what I was
      looking at. Then he looked down at the dress as he slowly stepped
      into it, pulled it up, and put his arms through the short sleeves.
      It buttoned down the front, but Andrew started at the bottom
      button near the waist and worked his way up. Again he watched my
      eyes intently as he seemed to give each button caressing
      attention. Bit by bit, his bra disappeared.
      When he had finished, I gave him that typical masculine appraisal
      from head to foot. It was a pretty dress. Elastic drew it in
      around his waist, and the skirt gently flared out down to the knees.
      Andrew twirled around in front of me. "Well, what do think?"
      "Yeah, very pretty." I was surprised I was capable of speaking. "A
      nice casual dress. You look very cute in it. I like it."
      Andrew smiled brightly. "OK, we'll keep this one."
      Then he reversed the process to take the dress off. Now I was
      sure: Andrew was deliberately making his movements highly
      provocative. He unbuttoned the dress from the top down so that his
      bra only became visible a little a time. Then he lowered the
      dress, his panties slowing appearing as some ghostly spectre of
      desire. As if in slow motion, he stepped out of the dress.
      I always loved watching Andrew dress and undress. It was one of
      those everyday-type thrills of marriage, and it rarely failed to
      bring my desire for his to the surface. But what he was doing now
      multiplied the effect it had on me manyfold.
      Again attired in nothing but his bra and panties, he went over to
      the pile of clothes and pulled out a skirt and blouse. The blouse
      went on first. The bottom was straight all the way around, which
      probably meant that it was designed to be left out instead of
      tucked in. But as Andrew stood there, it was another sight to
      behold: the blouse came down only a little below the waistline and
      so came nowhere near covering his panties. However, this
      entrancing vision slowly vanished as he pulled on the skirt,
      subtly swaying his hips as he wiggled into it.
      He had been watching me but then looked down at the skirt. It was
      knee-length. As he was looking at the skirt and his legs, Andrew
      spoke in a tone that implied thoughtful evaluation. "I think
      nylons are called for with this skirt."


      *Rupali Joshi* (/Tuesday, 31 August 2010 04:35/)

      He pulled up the skirt to a breathtaking height, sat down on the
      sofa, and grabbed a pair of thigh-high nylon stockings that just
      happened to be among the clothes he had brought from the bedroom.
      This new place for my reading chair put me directly across from
      Andrew. He lifted his leg and reached down to pull on the
      stocking. I could not believe what I was seeing: a direct view up
      his skirt, white panties and all. Andrew stretched out his leg and
      lovingly smoothed the stocking up to mid-thigh. This intoxicating
      process was repeated for the second stocking. Then he stood up,
      straightening his skirt and pulling it back down.
      "Well, how do you like this skirt?"
      My mouth was very dry. "Hmmm, yeah, a nice conservative
      skirt...yeah, very nice." As my rational mind was slowly beginning
      to function again, I thought I would make a comment about how all
      this was affecting me. "You know, Andrew, watching all this is
      really starting to drive me crazy."
      He pretended to be surprised. "Drive you crazy? Now really,
      Andrea, you've watched me get dressed before."
      "Drive me crazy," I thought. Of course! His whole plan was
      becoming clear. The rearranged furniture, dressing and undressing
      directly in front of me with a host of new outfits. This was the
      "adventure" he had alluded to this morning: he was putting on an
      elaborate "floor" show, teasing me mercilessly.
      Andrew walked over to me and sat down on my lap, putting his arm
      around me. With his hand drawing my face to his, he gave me a
      sweet, tender kiss. "I wanted your input on all my new clothes,
      and, yeah...I thought you might enjoy watching this." This time,
      there was a definite lack of innocence in his tone.
      There also was little doubt that I felt quite aroused at this
      point. I put my arm around Andrew and my other hand on his leg,
      starting to reach under his skirt. But Andrew eased herself off my
      lap. "Now, now, " he said sweetly, "you mustn't get too carried away."
      Without waiting for a response, he went back to the sofa. "Let's
      try this skirt next." He reached into the stack and pulled out
      another one. He stepped out of the one he was wearing and pulled
      the other one up. It was quite a bit shorter, about three or four
      inches above the knee, but still discrete enough for public use.
      Once again, Andrew looked down at the result. Assuming a perplexed
      expression, he said, "Oh, drat. This one is too short for
      thigh-highs. I think I'll need regular pantyhose with this skirt."
      Then before my very eyes, and of course I had that incredibly
      direct view, Andrew sat down on the sofa, pulled his skirt high
      enough to remove his thigh-high stockings, one raised, shapely,
      stretched-out leg at a time. I will refrain from describing the
      details of what I could see, but for some reason that line from
      the Doors came to mind: "...like a dog that begs for something
      sweet." If this continued, I thought, I would soon be reduced to
      that level!
      But getting the thigh-high nylons off was not the end. Andrew
      wanted to put on pantyhose.
      On several past occasions, I have seen what that process entails
      when it is performed while wearing a skirt. This time, he is
      starting out sitting on the sofa. When he got both legs of the
      pantyhose to mid-thigh, he stood up, grabbed their waistline and
      proceeded to pull them all the way to his waist, which, of course,
      required that his skirt be raised to the same height. Then he
      slowly worked the nylon legs upward, pushing the skirt all the way
      up two more times.
      Talk about a fixated, prurient stare! My eyes must have extended
      well beyond their sockets. But again this seductive vision was
      short-lived. With the pantyhose in place, Andrew lowered his
      skirt, and twirled around to give me a look.
      "How do you like this one now? It would probably be OK when we
      want our evening out to be a bit more daring."
      I tried to swallow and with much difficulty managed a response.
      "Yeah, I like it. Sexy, but still within normal standards of decorum."
      Well, Andrew continued trying on clothes in front of me: dressing,
      undressing, then dressing again. What was the phrase he had used?
      "Wild, uncontrollable, passionate desire"...for him. That was now
      an understatement.
      At one point he removed the pantyhose. He was wearing one of the
      new teeshirts from the stack when he extracted another skirt. This
      one was pleated but really short--a micro-mini. After getting it
      on, Andrew look down at his knees.
      "Oooo...this one I think might be just a bit too short for wearing
      in public." He smiled coquettishly and, as if to demonstrate how
      short it really was, he took the hem and pulled it up the few
      remaining inches needed to expose the bottom tip of his panties.
      "We'll just save this one for our special nights at home."
      Then Andrew apprently saw something on the floor. He turned his
      back end toward me and bent down from the waist to pick up some
      piece of lint off the


      *Rupali Joshi* (/Tuesday, 31 August 2010 04:36/)

      carpet. Naturally, that ultra-short skirt rose up to reveal the
      panty legbands that gently craddled Andrew's curvaceous bottom.
      After watching his antics in this latest outfit, I really thought
      my desires and passions were about to explode. Andrew must have
      sensed this.
      He sat down on the sofa and feigned exhaustion. In that incredibly
      short skirt, there was no way he could avoid that flash of white
      panties again.
      "Whew! That was a lot of work." Andrew sat there for a moment or
      two, then got up and came over to me. First, he walked around
      behind the chair and started caressing my neck and ears and
      running his fingers through my hair. He leaned down and nibbled my
      ear, then said in a soft, sultry voice, "Well, how was that for a
      birthday present?"
      Without waiting for an answer, he came around and sat on my lap
      again. In that position, this skirt was barely able to cover his
      panties. I was ogling his legs when Andrew suddenly threw his arms
      around my neck. We embraced passionately and kissed.
      I worked my hand up his skirt and began a gentle caress on that
      sensually smooth, microfiber material. Andrew closed his eyes and
      sighed softly.
      "I think that was about the greatest birthday present any women
      ever got." Then, although I was almost delirious with desire, I
      added, "Too bad we can't make love now. But like you said, we
      already did that this morning..."
      He kissed me again with an intensity that surprised me.
      "Are you kidding?" he whispered. "You think you're the only one
      hot and bothered after all this?"
      I was continuing my exploration under his skirt, what there was of
      it, when Andrew said, "I really feel all cramped up in this chair.
      I'd feel a lot more comfortable in bed."
      With that, I picked him up, carried him into the bedroom, and
      placed him on the bed. He put his hands behind his head and stared
      intently at me. Then, still in that micro-miniskirt, he drew his
      knees up and spread his legs slightly. My heart was pounding with
      that view of his panties. It gave new meaning to the phrase "open
      After Andrew's show in the living room, neither of us felt much
      need for any extended foreplay. We made sensational love.
      As we savored the afterglow in a tender embrace, I asked, "That
      was your version of a striptease, wasn't it?"
      "Yeah. There are Web sites, you know, even Christian Web sites,
      that explain how a wife can do a striptease for her husband. But I
      didn't think I could pull it off without looking more comical than
      sexy. I knew you'd find what I did tonight sexy."
      "Well, it certainly was the most incredible birthday present you
      every thought of. And I think it was even sexier than a
      striptease. I never was much into dancing."
      Andrew turned and kissed me tenderly.
      "You remember that one line from the marriage vows in the old
      English marriage liturgy? You know, in the Book of Common Prayer?
      "'With this ring, I thee wed;
      "'With my body, I thee worship.'
      "I believe in that, Andrea, and I love you so much."
      We were both silent for a moment. But with someone as playful as
      Andrew, tender moments often transition quickly into more humorous
      "Say," I asked suddenly, "what was in that wrapped box? We never
      got to open it."
      "Oh, just a book."
      It was now time for me to have some fun with Andrew.
      "Just a book! A new book?" I said that with great enthusiasm in my
      voice. "My gosh, why didn't we open it? I would much rather have
      gotten a book for my present!"
      He pulled out of my arm, sat bolt-upright, and gave me a shove.
      "OOOOH! "You're mean and terrible! Just for that, there'll be no
      sex for a month!"
      But I was laughing and soon Andrew too was laughing.
      "But I still love you," he said, smiling sweetly again. "Happy
      birthday, darling. I really do love you."