The shoes kill my feet.
The stockings are a pain to get on and then off after dinner.
Getting dressed up for a night out is a struggle, exasperating if we’re being honest.
Especially when I watch him get ready in seconds.
I could say it’s unfair, shitty even. I won’t though.
As I come down the stairs, I know what he’s thinking.
When I cross my legs in the car, I know his eyes are roaming.
As he undresses me at the end of the night when I ride him with those same stockings...
It’s so worth it.
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