The Purple Shirt!
The smell of his skin…moist feel of his underarms wet from his manly perspiration…the baggy shirt…the feeling of being superior in a sweet and uncanny manner…almost like a queen…like the one in charge. The warmth, the soft texture, the careless stains, everything about my boyfriend’s shirt is a unique feeling. People say it feels sexy. I beg to differ, it feels more than just sexy, it feels utterly, ridiculously, and almost unbelievably…. divine.
Like many girl friends of mine who tell me how sexy it feels to hop around in their boyfriend’s t-shirt or shirt after a make out session, I too feel a strange after-arousal, a deep intimacy, a bizarre sense of domination after putting on my boyfriend’s outfit right after a shack session. Call it fancy, crazy or simply outlandish – the touch of my man’s clothing on my bare skin after making love to him feels absolutely sensual. But it’s not just sensual, there is a feel of oneness, like they say, ‘two souls in one body’ sort of emotion that is hard to explain. Some people like to smoke up after sex, some like to drink something warm or eat, still some, like me, love to hop around in the house in nothing, but his shirt.
Sometimes, I prefer the trousers. Men’s trousers, unlike those of women are skinnier. When I feel like looking hot in his dandy pair of shorts, or simply feel like doing some pilates in his pair of tights, I just go about it. I love it how I don’t have to take his permission to wear something that men (unlike most women) hate to share with others – their clothes.
Last night was a special one. He showed up in a purple shirt that looked alluring and made him look more handsome and sexy. With his neatly done hair, a gentle stubble, and a pair of black pants – the purple shirt looked perfect, and took my immediate attention. When he looked at how engrossed I was with his shirt, he smiled mischievously. He got aware of my intention. The simple thought of unbuttoning that crisp shirt, and running my hands inside it, caressing his broad, masculine chest, feeling his soft, light brown chest pubes sent a sharp tingling down my groin. Simply thinking about this, I couldn’t control and bit my lip gently to which he breathed a heavy sigh. Is this some sort of madness? Why do I feel so stimulated by simply looking at his torso? He was just at my doorstep, and I didn’t want to end up making out vigorously right here – I meant it to be our special night. I have cooked a special dinner for him – his favourite white pasta with garlic bread. Oh, his obsession for white sauce is crazy! Feigning indifference, I smiled, and hugged him softly. Then, holding him by his hand, I pulled him inside. Secretly, I had taken a quick sniff at his shirt. The smell was ecstatic! It was a mix of his favourite berry perfume, his body smell, and the smell of his new shirt. Akash knows that I will keep his shirt with me again this time. It is after a long time that he’s wearing a brand-new shirt and he knows I will be the unabashed bitch that I am and steal his shirt from him. For me, it’s like keeping a souvenir. An intimate one. One you don’t show to anybody else but just keep close to yourself. So far, I have kept two of his clothing. I feel no shame in admitting that the first one is his undie. A light beige boxer brief with a built-in pouch. I remember the day how I got made over it and pulled it out of his body making him completely naked and putting them on after our first make-out session.
He had actually used the undie to wipe off the cum that got on our bare bodies. It may sound dirty, but I love the stain of the cum on his clothes. While we always end up cleaning the clothes afterward, the after-wash tinge on the spot looks very intimate and sexy. It smells different too. For at least a good one hour, I enjoyed seeing him naked on the bed, all calm and comfortable. And me making the dinner with his undies on and no bra and shirt. It became a ritual. Most people think nudity is a thing of shame. It is the beauty and power of love and intimacy that makes this nudity a way to express yourself in the most uninhibited way. It makes you feel so secure and relaxed, without a care of the world. Like you are the boss of your own world, where there is no place for judgement or shame. The same was the feeling, when I wore his crew-neck black sando the other day. Of course, they were a bit loose around the waist, but I liked the way they hugged my breasts and made my nipples look prominent. As soon as I put them on after sex to run for the washroom, he pulled me by my hand and slightly kissed on both of my nips over the sando. It felt so passionate and sexy. “You look so sexy,” he said with a deep, husky voice. How could I have given him back that sando? I kept it like a memorable souvenir. He can always wear it whenever he is here.
This time, the Purple Shirt – looked completely ravishing on him. It’s not just the sexual appeal I’m talking about. There was some dark, manly, feeling to it. Not to mention how confidently he carried himself in it. Like a Greek God of Love. Like the shirt was exclusively made for his masculine physique. Like it was waiting to be torn apart by me under one crazy impulse. While we came back inside, I found it hard to resist all the wild imaginations. Cut to 10-minutes, we were in the kitchen, making out like crazy, his shirt lying on the floor of the kitchen, alongside my pink panty and pair of blue jeans. We made love, while the smell of white sauce enriched our senses, and the look of ‘purple him’ and ‘pink me’ lying casually on the kitchen floor, excited us further and that’s when his thumping got harder and deeper. I gasped and moaned. He got wilder.
He dipped his finger in the white sauce, made me lick it, and then gave me a long, deep smooch. The taste of the sauce melted in our tongues, as he held me tightly against the kitchen slab. It never felt so hot before. Was it the doing of the Purple Shirt, after all?
I knew he was going mad, because he wasn’t letting go of me. After the sex, like always, I took the shirt and wore it. For a long time, I didn’t out on the undergarment and pranced around in his purple shirt and only his purple shirt. Enough of dressing, I thought. Then, I started serving the food on plates. At one moment, I felt his eyes on my back. I quickly turned back. There he stood, in his black underwear, looking endearingly at me and smiling the biggest smile I have seen. “You look ravishing in purple,” he remarked.
So, there I was. Back into my zone. The zone of wilderness and feeling a sense of power. What a pleasure to be covered in your boyfriend’s covering, I thought. While it was my favourite and hottest shack session ever, I didn’t wish the evening to end with the sex alone. But I decided to spend the entire night in his purple shirt.
After dinner, we slipped under our warm bedspread. Laying naked, we streamed our favourite show. I threw my arms around him, he just held me close with his large arms. There was nothing else to feel that night. Just his warm hug, our bodies touching each other, and the smell of his purple shirt, draped around me.
