Watching

"Straight?" my wife asked, lifting up the hem of her dress, showing me her garter strap, the top of her stockings.

I looked down, red-faced. She waited for me to look up. I finally did, letting my eyes wander up her stocking covered leg to her garter strap. "Yes," I swallowed.

She sensed my hesitation. "Would you rather wait downstairs while I get ready?"

"N...no, Ma'am," I said. She knew how conflicting it was, watching her get ready for a date with her boyfriend, the feelings of jealousy, the shame, mixed with excitement.

She smiled. "I can let you out now if you want, you can have your cummie before I go, but you know how you get if you do; you know it's better when I get home if you haven't."

I wanted to masturbate so badly but knew she was right, it would be better now but much worse later. "I...I can wait," I said. I didn't want to wait but when she got home, when she'd pull my face between her legs to lick her clean, it would be horrible for me to do that after jerked off. I learned that lesson once; what was erotic and an immense turn-on before I squirted was terrible after. But that didn't matter to her; post-date clean-up was non-negotiable.

She smiled. "You're so much more enthused when you wait," she said, "you know I prefer it that way."