“It’s hard to be exciting in pantyhose.”“What do you have against pantyhose, anyway?”“My hand.” She hissed. It was an old joke. He tugge... them down hard. Jeff never learned, or maybe he was acting out his hatred of pantyhose.“Hey! You’ll ruin them.”“If you can do it better,” he said, “show me how.”So, she got up and showed him how to remove pantyhose without damaging it. The shoes went first, and the panties followed the pantyhose.“We’re not going to open the door, are we?” she asked.“No.”So. That was what I lost. That was what he lost!The ordinary sex life, the intercourse twice a week, the blow and hand jobs that used to sustain us, even though his thoughts wandered back to his fetish. That had faded to black. His punishment was to be used and abused without the relief and safety of a home life.Now that that door was opened there were occasionally other men who tickled my fancy. They pleased me while my former husband stayed in the cage that he had made for his own room. He laid. More

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