I am Lyla a 37 year old, five foot nothing 110 pound gal and the fourth wife of my husband John. John is a wealthy man who is 18 years my senior. I loved him dearly but being a man who is a workaholic, who has a ridiculously bad diet thus grossly overweight and with his two pack a day habit, his health and ways are affecting our intimacy.
When we first dated and got married he was a sexual animal. I loved it! I kept and keep myself in great shape and am considered as a trophy wife by many or most. And that's okay. And he loves that I am and I'm certainly not insulted by the title. Having said this, if I knew what I know now, I would have never ever married him. We've been married now for 15 years. John when we met, was not a model but he had not let himself go as he has.
John has five children from three different women. His 19 year old son Robbie, has resided with us since his 18th birthday. Robbie is a good looking young man with a pleasant disposition. We get along rather well so having him live here was and is not a bother.
One morning I caught Robbie in the laundry room doing of all things, sniffing my panties that were in the hamper. He had no idea at first that what I saw is what I saw. I at first didn't realize what was happening and was shocked when I did. As I stood there watching, I felt terribly violated but walked away undetected but disgusted. I wasn't able to catch him in the act again but then again I wasn't wanting or trying to catch him.
It felt so weird to interact with him daily knowing that he was so enthralled with my used underwear. I would blush whenever we were together in any capacity. My mind was working overtime on this dilemma. Each and everyday this thought of him, his face, his nose smelling my essence began having the opposite effect on me. Instead of finding it gross as I had, I was now being turned on in a way about it all. As weeks and months went by, it drove me crazy with a want, I now fantasizing about his actual face in my wetness. I would wear my undies for days before discarding them in the hamper or better yet have my way with myself while wearing them, getting them good and wet before hand. more than a half dozen times imagining scenarios. I felt crazy getting my panties wet with my juices and then placing them in the hamper in such a way that I would be able to tell if they were moved. They were!
One afternoon his father, got out of bed on the wrong side and cut into me. John at times treats me less than stellar. Robbie happened to witness John freaking out on me, grabbing me by the arm and verbally putting me down. Robbie stepped in and scolded his father, telling him to lay off adding, "Don't touch her!" I was shocked! Even more shocking was that his father listened. Then again Robbie towers over his 5'9" father being a solid 210lbs and 6'3".
That act of protecting me, really had an effect. Suddenly my sexual urges went from thoughts to a real need that my fingers and toys would and could not satisfy. It changed me. I presented myself differently in front of Robbie. I wanted to entice my protector beginning with going braless in the home when it was just he and I. I wore tight spandex, with no panty to accent my camel toe and then taking in his gaze. In the mornings I would come into the kitchen as he was having breakfast, me in my tiny nightie nothing underneath and revelling in his lustful stares at my legs and large breasts. He did what he could and unsuccessfully so, to hide the tent he was pitching in his pjs.
