Chapter 10: The Bathing Suit Challenge

When, instead of coming up behind me, snuggling into my back and looking at what I was doing over my shoulder while giving me a peck on the cheek like he usually does, he came up behind me bent over a little and his hands instead gently found their way to my calves to grasp at my skirts’ hem, I was shocked, confused, surprised and completely off guard.

I froze. I could have playfully slapped his hands away but his actions were so out of character that doing such a thing in response never occurred to me.

Herbert had never been so adventurous as to make bold moves such as that outside our darkened bedroom before, especially with the intention of exposing the backs of my legs by lifting my skirts. Such had simply never happened before without us being horizontal in bed while wearing our pajamas.

My mind flashed to the night he’d spanked me. That had been the first and last time he’d made an attempt to literally get under my skirt the way he was doing now.

My knees locked and I went rigid, thinking I was about to be spanked again even though his voice continued to be soft and loving as he slowly inched the skirt of my dress up my legs, past my knees and up my thighs, all while murmuring what lovely legs I have.

I had been doing housework all day and I was dressed for it. When his hands drew the skirt up over my buttocks, my first thought was, what underpants was I wearing? Something comfortable and practical, obviously, but were they going to be ripped away so he could spank my bare bottom again.

I started shaking in anticipation of what was to come and my voice hitched as I asked what I’d done wrong this time.

No other reason for him doing this made sense. I’d introduced the idea of Herbert spanking me, I’d insisted on him doing it and I’d all but thanked him the first time. I just knew I was to be in for another, but my mind refused to work; to conclude what I’d done was so bad that Herbert was going to punish me again.

Herbert assured me he wasn’t disrobing me because I’d been naughty - the word itself making me feel like a child, but that he wanted me out of the ‘stodgy’ dress I was wearing so I could greet him properly as a wife should.

I admit I had no idea what he was talking about but felt immediate relief that a spanking was not what he had in mind. Was Herbert, usually a perfect gentleman ... horny?

He didn’t stop at baring my behind but continued to raise the dress up my torso, telling me to raise my arms. The wooden spoon I was holding dropped and clattered into the pan I’d been stirring.

It would have made no difference to me if it had fallen to the floor. I lifted my arms as I was told so that Herbert could continue peeling my dress off me, right there in the kitchen. Herbert was in charge and it was thrilling now, my body still quaking but now from excitement!

I had never stood before my husband in my underwear and certainly never so close to naked, at his bequest. Of all the things to worry about, I was ashamed that my underpants didn’t match my bra. Herbert didn’t care.

He turned me around as if to inspect me and his eyes never dropped lower than my cleavage.

As this was happening it never occurred to me that Herbert had thought a lot about how we’d spent the last twenty years together and he’d only recently for the first time seen me nude in daylight.

He’d done a lot of reflection himself and had finally come to the conclusion that it had been foolish that we’d barely seen each other naked and he was ready to remedy that on a regular basis.

I didn’t learn this until later. For right now, I was being put under the spotlight for the first time as a wife; as much property of his as he was mine. He’d concluded my body was his responsibility to monitor as much as I frequently provided my opinions on his diet and exercise.

As I said, recently, my husband has seen me naked for the first time. He proceeded to confess that seeing me in just my undies (meaning bra since his eyes didn’t drop further and I don’t think he even recognized what color my underpants were) was particularly arousing to him and that the undergarment made my breasts look even bigger than they had been when uncovered.

What could I say to that? That my breasts had become saggy after breastfeeding three children and my bra held them up and firm? That I was glad my nipples aren’t yet level with my belly button? I stayed silent about the observation and that didn’t seem to bother Herbert.

I did feel self-conscious and my arm came up to cover my chest but Herbert sounded quite sharp when he told me to drop it. His tone caused another shiver. He was being so decisive!

Out of nowhere he asked what size my bra was. We’d been married two decades and he was asking now? Admittedly, if he’d asked 6 months ago I would have put him in his place for asking such intimate questions about my undergarments but now I felt a little guilty that he HAD to ask.

I told him that I was a 36HH. He just nodded as if that meant nothing to him and he was just filing away that little tidbit of information for future reference. Maybe he was going to buy me some nice lingerie!

He finally dropped his gaze to my groin and my sensible underpants. His first comment was that with so many styles of women’s underwear, it seemed a shame to him that I would choose something his grandmother would have worn.

That comment was a little offensive to me but when he said that despite the cut, he could still see whisps of my pubic hair peeking around the gusset and that I should seriously pay more attention to my personal grooming.

My husband was giving his wife of more than 20 years grooming tips! I shivered again. It was humiliating being assessed by Herbert yet at the same time incredibly stimulating. I felt like I was on display as merchandise!

Herbert continued to comment on my body (in a very complimentary way). He had me turn to the side and then he wanted me to face away from him so he could appreciate the view from behind.

I couldn’t help it, I acted a little playful when he intimated he wanted to see me from behind. I twirled three quarters of a turn and presented myself once more facing him again. I didn’t want him to tell me I have a fat bottom; I know that already. He told me off and insisted I face away from him.

Well I did, but I looked over my shoulder and poked my tongue out at him. I know it was childish but if he was going to treat me like a child being assessed, I was going to act like one!

His first comment about the view he now had was that my bottom was nearly perfect. I was glad I had good coverage with my cotton underpants so he didn’t see the cellulite!

Again I didn’t respond but he carried on without pause saying that my thighs and calves were quite eye-catching as well.

I turned my head away from him again so he couldn’t see me blush in pleasure. Getting so many compliments about my body was making my head swell but I stood up straighter as I imagined a military recruit would stand, butt clenched, shoulders square, back straight and chest out.

This earned praise about how my posture was excellent too and that I had outstanding definition between my hips and waist. Herbert even mentioned how sexy my shoulder blades looked. I’d never considered shoulder blades could ever be considered sexy!

When he said it really was a shame that we’d waited so long before ‘chilling out’ I was sure he knew something I didn’t. He had NEVER used that phrase before.

Then he told me he’d brought home a swimsuit for me and he wanted me to don it. I don’t know how he even knew I didn’t own a swimsuit!

The request was so far out of place in this little game we were playing that I had to ask him what had brought all this on. I turned and looked at him while he paused before answering. His response was that he’d had lunch with Steve.

I immediately wished I’d not asked. It was an instant mood killer. Standing in my kitchen in my underwear talking about lunch with my son-in-law-to-be, felt wrong. I couldn’t even be on the phone with another person without being fully dressed!

I’d first thought Herbert was trying out a newfound way of getting frisky but now I thought something Steve had said about bathing suits had caused Herbert to get aroused.

I didn’t want to be the tool Herbert used to realize some sick fantasy about another woman in a swimsuit. I felt cheated. My lips tightened and my eyes hardened. Herbert knew I was about to go off on him and he told me to stop it immediately.

He was very forceful. Very un-Herbert-like. I shivered but paused. Herbert had told me to calm myself and that if I didn’t want another spanking, I’d stop jumping to conclusions and getting myself in trouble.

I don’t know if it was an empty threat or not and I certainly did not want to find out! Herbert basically glared at me until I relaxed my body. I had no choice but to wait and hear what he had to say. It took most of a minute for me to get myself fully under control but I did it. I think it was the first time I’d ever been ordered to calm down.

Usually telling me something like that made me even more irate but Herbert’s threat, empty or not, made all the difference. The heat finally left my eyes and I stopped trying to stare my husband down.

He wasn’t finished though. He reminded me that I’d recently promised him I would turn over a new leaf and stop being a shrew with a hair trigger. He could see I was trying but that I needed help to change and helping me was his job.

I was left feeling chastened, humbled, very uncomfortable and once again, aroused. I know I didn’t have to admit the arousal part but it is integral to my story. Admitting facts and my true feelings are key to changing for the better.

So I was in my kitchen, allowing Herbert to see me in my underwear and he had just told me he’d brought home a bathing suit for me to don for him. Those are the facts. He asked me if I wanted to put the suit on first or understand what led up to him having it in his possession. I knew it was a test.

Was I going to be a good wife and do as my husband asked or opt to understand why my husband was asking? I took a deep breath and held my hand out to him, wordlessly asking him to hand over the suit so I could go put it on. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

Herbert pulled something from his pocket. At first it looked like a tangled colorful string and I wondered what all he had in those pockets. Then he handed it to me.

I took it in my palm, confusion clear. He had to nod slightly towards my outstretched hand to get me to look down at what I was holding. I don’t really know what I had expected. Swim suits can ball up pretty small but I thought I’d just been holding something else that had happened to be in his pocket along with the suit!

I’m sure I looked amazed; I was! He’d handed me colorful string, not a bathing suit. Still, I shook it out and sure enough, I counted four triangles maybe each two inches across holding a few strings. This wasn’t a bathing suit, it wasn’t even a handkerchief!

This is what he wanted me to put on. I wasn’t even sure I knew HOW to put it on but when he told me to take off my underwear and put it on for him, I slowly nodded then made to pick up my discarded dress. I’d put it in the bedroom rather than just leaving it lay.

But Herbert had other ideas. He wanted me to completely strip and then figure the suit out right in front of him. Now who was the naughty one?

Herbert had seen me naked and it had been thrilling for me. So thrilling I’d begun leaving the bathroom door open so he’d catch me in the shower (he was still yet to do that). Being caught naked and doffing my underwear right in front of him were two different things though. This one took effort although it was every bit as arousing as being caught.

With shaking hands I reached behind me and unclipped my bra, dropping it then quickly I stepped out of my underpants. I did it as matter-of-factly as possible but inside I was a mass of nerves. Herbert didn’t seem to care too much. His eyes were fixed on me like I was the only woman in the world, not just the house.

His lustful gaze tripped a switch in me and once again I felt powerful. I was truly desired by my husband!

Not just for the woman I am and not just because Herbert’s my husband and is somehow required to show interest, but his fully tented trousers and the way he licked dry lips told me he was even more turned on than he’d been seeing me in my underwear. Probably close to as aroused as I realized I was all of a sudden.

I stood before Herbert in the nude, trying to make sense of the strings and patches for more than a minute before I figured everything out and was able to climb into the one piece swimsuit that was realistically more racy than a tiny bikini. Certainly something that would not be beach legal.

My areolas weren’t even completely covered, not that Herbert needed to see them to gauge where my nipples were under the top triangles. Those were tenting the triangles of material nearly as much as his erection was tenting his trousers.

Well not nearly as much, since my distended nipples are only a half inch long and only so prominent because of all the breastfeeding I’d done.

String connected the top to the bottoms by wrapping around my waist and a third triangle was not even close to big enough to cover my privates. It was like I’d tried to cover a shrub with a wash rag. A string went between my legs to a triangle in the rear but I was simply unable to make that triangle cover my tushie.

I have a big bottom and the triangle made for back there was small, but even then it wanted to seat itself below my tailbone and not even over the cleavage between my bottom cheeks. I was for all intents and purposes, bottomless.

I felt ... forgive me ... wonderful. Standing in front of my husband modeling the suit in the privacy of our home was safe, exciting and delicious. I could tell Herbert could hardly keep his hands to himself.