Two very different essays on the role girdles play in marriage.
Possession of an erotic fascination- the sort that is often called a fetish- can often place strains on the relationship between a man and a woman. Investiture of erotic power in an article of clothing, nearly always by the male, can prove disconcerting or even threatening to the partner.
Yet this is by no means always the case. Here are two essays which discuss the positive role which girdle fascination can play within a loving marital relationship.
The essays are thoroughly dissimilar: one is subtle and light-hearted, the other rough-textured and blunt. Yet both bear witness to the power of sexual fascination, a power that can, under the right circumstances, strengthen considerably the bond between husband and wife.
Madonna, My Husband, and Me
by Jean
I rediscovered girdles at a later stage in life, thanks in no small part to my husband... and to Madonna! Here goes:
I was old enough to wear my first girdle in the spring of 1969, the exact end, I think, of the girdle era. As important as this female rite of passage was to me on Easter Sunday, miniskirts and pantyhose came into my life over the summer and I would never look back. Or would I?
My husband is four years older than me, and grew up during what turns out to have been the perfect age for glimpsing the female underpinnings beneath the skirts of young women. During his junior high and high school years, there was a long period during which skirts became ever shorter, yet young women continued to wear panty girdles and stockings. This situation presented ample opportunities for young men to see all kinds of hardware and snug girdles worn by young women who had to constantly tug and adjust their skirts (especially while seated), negotiate stairs, climb in and out of cars, and so forth. I remember my older sister complaining about the situation from time to time, and she was one of the first to put her girdles away and switch to pantyhose. Just as she did this once and for all during the summer of 1969, so did I.
It was all quickly forgotten as college loomed, the sexual revolution came into full bloom, and the notion of not wearing any underwear at all flourished in some quarters. I can say that I always liked fine lingerie and that my boyfriends usually commented. I didn't really think mucghts of having to have clean undies if I was taken to the hospital or any of that. I just liked matching bras and panties, and the feel of nice lingerie.
I met my husband in 1983 and we were married in 1984. He was enchanted with lingerie from the day we met and I liked that. I even spent money we didn't really have on a gorgeous corselette which I wore under my wedding gown, and our wedding night was quite memorable indeed.
However after we were married for a time, I decided that his preferences were somehow "unnatural," so I tried to suppress them, to the detriment of our love life. I felt that I wanted him to just love me for me. So why should I have to dress up for him?
Consider this: It is not hard for women to become resentful of the plain fact that most men are thoroughly hung up on female appearances. Over the years I have accumulated thousands (yes, thousands) of dollars of makeup and makeup tools, drawers full of garments that are specifically meant not to be seen by anyone other than my mate, and also, well, I will note that most female dress attire is designed and constructed specifically for appearance--not comfort or durability. Aside from the acquisition of all these accoutrements, the daily regimen women undergo in order to look pretty is formidable.
Quite honestly, I still haven't worked out the answer to the question of how much of my beauty and dressing regimen is done for myself and how much I do it for him, but when I am feeling cranky, he serves well enough for the source of my misery, and when I am feeling great, he serves just fine as my reason to dress up. The truth is somewhere in between, I suppose, or maybe it is always changing.
Anyway, like I said, I had somehow convinced myself that dressing up for him was not healthy and "normal." It wasn't until 1987, while I happened to be watching an MTV clip of Madonna opening her coat at some publicity event to reveal she wore nothing more than an open bottom girdle and bullet bra that I realized that maybe, just maybe, my husband's interest in lingerie was more mainstream than I had supposed.
Of course, I am simplifying here. I had been trying to rethink this for some time and, like others, I often have the experience of simply setting a difficult intellectual or creative problem aside and then finding the solution. The Madonna clip was like that for me, although don't ever criticize Madonna around me, because she will always be associated in my thinking with the rebirth of my marriage.
Things seem easier when we write about them. There is a flow and logic to events that was not apparent as they actually occurred. The Madonna experience knocked some things down, but it took some good counseling and some reading and eventually we were really communicating. That was when my husband shared his recollections of girdle watching, among other things, trying to find the reasons for his ardor for feminine foundation garments. In this spirit of adventurousness and openness, I decided to buy a girdle and wear it for him.
I had been visiting a traditional foundation shop for years where I bought my bras. When I visited the store on my way home from work one afternoon asking about girdles and long-line bras (my husband had also mentioned that he liked those) the sales lady was quite surprised- I am in pretty good shape and do not look like a "likely" girdle customer. When I selected the a very firm, high-waisted, zippered, open bottom girdle and a similarly stout long line bra, the sales woman was definitely curious, so I told her it was a fashion sort of thing and to just have fun with it. This seemed to work, and, with packages in my arms, I looked forward to my new dressing experience.
As I tried on my new girdle and long-line bra again at home, I had a very strong, emotional recall of the very first time I wore a girdle as a thirteen-year-old girl. Quite unexpectedly, I was also very much turned on, the tight garments encasing me from shoulder to thigh, so snug and feminine. There is a wonderful tactile experience to wearing tight foundations. One sensation I particularly love is to gently run the back of my fingernails along the fabric. There is something to all the panels, the little straps and garters, and the boning which is often present that is just elementally feminine.That afternoon, it all felt so new to me, yet it also felt like something I was returning to, even though I did not wear girdles much at all as a young woman.
I recall having the feeling that afternoon that I positively wanted to dress this way--I had a fantasy about going to work, wearing a girdle under my skirt. And then I had a realization. I could do so if I wanted to. I decided that instead of greeting my husband at the door in my new bra and girdle, I would first wear them to work. So I put them away.
The next morning, instead of pulling on my pantyhose and skirt and bolting out the door, I dressed as my mother had dressed--in these firm control undergarments with stockings, hooks, zippers and lots of boning and then put my robe on as I went downstairs to get coffee and put on my makeup.
As I walked by my husband, I let my robe fall open just a little. He didn't notice right away, so I leaned over his shoulder to "see an article." He felt the firm bra cup against the side of his head and immediately noticed that! As much as he wanted to, we both had important meetings that morning and couldn't do what was obviously the natural thing. I still wonder if this was not just a little cruel. He has told me many times how the next ten hours of his life were the most exquisite torture he had ever experienced. I have told him that I felt much the same way, but I think his torture was perhaps more exquisite than mine.
Also, it wasn't a perfect day at work. I found that using the restroom was quite a procedure. Also, I was constantly wondering if anyone "noticed." This found stimulating and scary. Finally--we all know about this--these garments require some getting used to. There are several layers of fabric right at the waist because the zipper girdle has a high waist, and long-line bras have a thick band right there, too. Also, the boning is presses hard on my lowest ribs and tummy.
Since that day I have become much better at mixing and matching my foundations, and sizing them so that I can wear them comfortably. I now have an extensive collection of girdles and other firm foundation garments, and have experimented with corseting, too. I usually wear at least a control brief to work but occasionally I enjoy having a "day." My husband is perfectly delighted to be involved in my preparations on these days, and to me preparing is half the fun. He likes to refer to my full foundation regalia on such days as "the hardware" because I usually wear a heavy zippered girdle of some type, garters, stockings and a long line or heavily constructed bra. I so like it when he helps me fiddle with it all to get it exactly right in the morning. We often find an excuse on such days to meet for "lunch.
I like to think that the present fashion craze for girdles and corsetry will result in a rebirth of common wearing of foundations. But I doubt that will happen. I am just pleased that I have rediscovered girdling, and also that I have found some women on acl and elsewhere who are similarly engaged with the experience.
More conservative readers should be warned that there is a small amount of explicit sexual description in the following account. Nonetheless, I suspect that those who read with an open mind will find it compelling in its depth of emotion.
Discovery In a Crowded Car
by Dennis
I am a 38 year old male, named Dennis; my wife's name is Tracy. I would like to relate to you the experiences I am now having with my wife who recently started wearing a panty girdle. Like many women, once she got into her mid-thirties, gravity and the rigors of child bearing finally took over and took their toll on her figure.
I would even go as far to say that it was her decision to start wearing a girdle that saved our marriage, got us out of a stale relationship rut, and started us talking once more. You see, our marriage was on the rocks, we separated for a time. I was living in my mom's converted garage apartment, while Tracy remained in our once-happy house with the kids.
As we still shared a mutual circle of friends, one day she called me at work and informed me we were invited to the wedding of a business acquaintance of both of ours, and several of our friends were attending as well. She wanted us to attend together and give the appearance that all was well between us. It was not, and I told her so, but Tracy persisted and I finally gave in. The wedding was to take place on a Friday night, a very formal affair, I was to change into my tux at our old house, while Tracy and I would be driven to the wedding along with another couple by our closest friends, Bill and Marianne.
I changed into my tux and waited in the living room for my wife who had just dropped our children off with her mom across town. When she returned we engaged in some small talk, and she chided me for not arriving earlier to see the kids. I apologized and told her I was tied up with a client and could not. She went upstairs to change out of her business clothing and into her evening dress.
I waited and watched TV for what seemed like hours until she was ready. It was worth the wait-- when she came downstairs she had on an extremely tight black cocktail dress. It was cut just above the knee, not quite mini, but with those spike heels and black hose she was quite a sight. I was about to compliment her when the doorbell rang. Our ride was here.
I took her hand and we both put on a false front, saying hello to our friends, and we walked to the car. I could not help but notice Tracy's bottom as she walked in those high heels and that tight dress to the car. My eyes nearly popped out when she bent down to get into the car.
With Bill and Marianne in the front seat and Matt and Julie in the back, things were rather cramped. We had not driven more than a mile when Bill's car phone rang. It was a frantic call from his brother who was also attending with his wife. Their car had broken down-- could Bill pick them up?
"Well, folks, it looks like we are going to have some more company," Bill joked as he turned the car around to pick up the third couple. We drove three miles out of our way to pick them up.
The biggest problem was how to get eight people into a car with bucket seats in the front. It was then when Marianne hit upon the idea that the women would sit on the guys' laps. It was the only way to get all of us there, so Tracy and the other wives sat on their husbands' laps in that crowded Camaro, while Bill and Marianne sat regally in the front.
Now, I thought this was going to be a long drive, so I thought I put my hands on my wife's waist and was met by the feel of rock-hard, but very pleasant-feeling, material. It definitely was not pantyhose or even the control-type variety she normally wears that I was feeling. This was different. I started exploring, and let my hand drop to her hips and then around her thighs and bottom.
I knew by the look on her face that Tracy could feel it as well. Tracy shot me an annoyed look but soon got into it. She started ever so demurely responding to my advances. She then took me by surprise and kissed me full on the lips, my hands still exploring her girdled body. I was wishing I could put them under her dress. When I looked up, to my disappointment we arrived at the reception.
When we got out of the car I complimented her on her appearance. "You look great," I said. "Have you lost weight or have been exercising these last few weeks?" I asked.
She then whispered in my ear, the words I have come to love, "No, I'm wearing a tight girdle."
"Well, you look absolutely outstanding," I said. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight all night."
I was true to my word, I treated her as if she was the only woman in the room, sneaking a feel whenever possible and whispering suggestions into her ear. I was really looking forward to the ride back home, Tracy on my lap once more, but alas, Bill's brother and his wife managed to get a ride with some other people.
After the reception we once again got into the car, and although she was not on my lap, I put my arm around her and we snuggled all the way home. Marianne wanted to know our secret for being so close after years of marriage. If she only knew!
When we arrived home, we bade our goodnights to the others, Bill and Marianne and Matt and Julie, and prepared to face the evening. I turned to Tracy and asked did I have to go? "Come-on," she said, "I guess you can stay for the night." My spirits soared, as I walked her into the living room and started kissing her. Here I was married for almost ten years with a case of blue balls for my wife.
I unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor, I nearly came when she stood before me in that extremely tight white long leg panty girdle. "So this is what's turning you on so. Do you like what you see?"
"Yes." I said. "Let's go upstairs." I pulled her close to me and starting running my hands all over her round bottom. The steely hard feel of the girdle was driving me out of my mind with desire.
I walked her upstairs to the bedroom and gently lying her down on the bed. I started kissing her girdle all over paying close attention to the crotch area. I knew that it was getting to her. However, before I was going to take it off her, there was one last thing I wanted to do. I unzipped my pants and placed myself between her girdled legs. The sensation of my organ against the hard lycra girdle was out of this world. A little later on we discovered that some girdles come with comfort crotches; this one did not however.
Finally she could take no more of this. She wiggled out of the girdle and I took her. We made love all night.
The next morning I snuck out to the local mall and bought her a diamond pendant. I then went back and begged her forgiveness. I told her we should not be fighting and that we could work this out. She responded by calling her mom and asking her to keep the kids until Sunday. We played all that weekend with the girdle and experimented with all kinds of lovemaking.
That Monday I received a call at work. It was Tracy. "Hurry home tonight," she said, "and guess what I'm wearing under my business suit." She then told me she went out on her lunch hour and bought several more. If her wearing a girdle made me happy and more attentive of her, she would always wear one. She was true to her promise.
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Originally Posted April 20, 1997