Well I have to say I know of one such idiot. Me. But I hasten to add that I didn't wear them out and had no intention of so doing and only one person, other than myself in the mirror, saw me in them. And that one person gave me a damned good spanking in them and made me keep them on all morning right up to when we were due to go out for lunch, telling me he'd make me wear them and see what other people thought of them but then of course relenting at the last minute and telling me to dress properly in a manner befitting my age. I stuck my tongue out at him, the pain of the spanking had worn off and I knew he didn't have time to re-spank me:)
Why I did it was to get attention I suppose, it was impulsive, I'd seen P look at a woman a tad younger than me wearing some with a loose fitting but short shaggy sweater which showed her nether curves I have to admit rather attractively. I nudged his arm and told him to keep his eyes off but I didn't really mind, he said she ought to be spanked for wearing something so tight, they were a distraction and it was a good job he hadn't been driving. Anyway the incident passed but stayed in my mind, not the woman's bottom but what P had said about being spanked for wearing them. So when I saw some cheap ones online, when I was browsing for something else, I ordered them. In a size down from my regular.
This isn't me by the way, worse luck.
They arrived a couple of days later, in time for the weekend, I like weekends because my husband always seems friskier (if he's going to be frisky) on them. I tried them on, goodness they were hard to get into and even harder to get off even though they had plenty of stretch. I looked in the mirror, turned this way and that, they were shiny and like a second skin. I felt sexy and then stupid at the thought of going out anywhere in them but then reminded myself I wasn't meant to go out in them. So what would my husband say, I could imagine 'what the f**k have you got on' or words to that effect. What would I say, what possible plausible reason could I have for wearing them, would I really even have the nerve to wear them in front of him. I thought about sending them back but didn't, I'd think about it.
Anyway come Sunday morning I'd done my thinking and, after I'd showered, I put them on again, this time with a close fit t-shirt (I don't have a shaggy sweater), same struggle as before but I was ready for it this time. Then when I'd wriggled them up to my thighs I realised I'd still got my knickers on so I had to take them off and start again, I mean if you're going to do it might as well do it right. When I went downstairs P was sitting with a mug of tea, he'd cleaned the car, ditched the last of his tomato plants and done a bit of tidying outside which I'd asked him to do, he was reading his newspaper. He didn't look up, shit, I had to get him to see me otherwise I might chicken out and go back upstairs to change them. So I asked if there was anything interesting in the press and he looked up over the top of the Times to say not really, then eyes down again then back up for a double take.
"What the f**k are you wearing?" I knew it would be something like that. I bent down to adjust a cushion on the sofa before I answered, well it was to give him a good look at my backside really.
"Oh just a change from jeans, they're very practical. Stretchy," I said, "loads of people are wearing them." I carried on doing a few unnecessary jobs. I knew he was watching me but did my best to be nonchalant.
"Well they're not suitable for a woman of your age and I hope you don't think you'll be coming out with me in them." My husband certainly knows how to enrage a woman. Not a word about my backside looked good in them, or come over for a cuddle, but he managed the age word easy enough and then dictated what I couldn't do. Red flag. I told him I'd wear what the hell I wanted and there was nothing wrong with my age and I'd go where I wanted in them.
The inevitable happened. He got up, threw his paper down and took me upstairs. Bedroom or office, I wondered, I hoped bedroom. It was office though. He told me I needed a sound spanking for buying and wearing them even around the house. I said that was the second time in a few days I'd heard him say a woman in tight pants had needed a spanking, then he cottoned on and he referred back to the woman we'd seen in town. It didn't alter my fate though. His thumb went inside the waistband to undo them but then, presumably because he realised they were such a tight fit, he just sat down and pulled me across his lap as I was. He reached over into one of the desk drawers for a paddle, then rested it on my back and hauled the waistband up, not down, pulling the latex very tight into my bottom. Then he took up the paddle and spanked me good and hard for maybe four or five minutes reading the riot act as he did it. I struggled a lot because it hurt and I could imagine what my bottom must have looked like to him, a red blooded male, twisting and turning lasciviously as he dealt with me.
When he'd done I got up and put my hands straight to my bottom, I could feel the heat through the thin material, I pouted and ouched. He told me that as I liked them so much I could keep them on for the rest of the morning and when we went out to lunch too and we'd see what sort of looks I got. I've already told you that didn't happen though and I went out in jeans and we had a lovely lunch with the kids and our granddaughter. On the way into town, P put his hand on my knee and told me to put the latex pants on again when we got home later, I asked him why and he said because he was going to spank me again, why I said. He squeezed my knee and said, because I enjoyed doing it and after I've spanked you I'm going to fuck the arse off you."
I felt myself moisten as he said it. He has a way with words.
Ronnie
xx
