Ignoring the tingling excitement in her stiffening nipples, the flushed young woman flicked on the bedside lamp. The artificial light lessened the strange sensual atmosphere in the silent bedroom, but Sandi's swollen breasts were still sending out indecent messages of arousal to all the nerve-endings in her shapely young body. To her chagrin, the crotchband of her snug-fitting white cotton shorts suddenly felt far too tight, as her vaginal lips puffed up in a way that made the honey-blonde housewife feel more ashamed of herself than ever.

"I won't try this stuff on tonight," she muttered, pushing the cardboard boxes back onto the top shelf of the closet after extracting an orange-colored nightgown and a soft red bathrobe. "And I won't bother about dinner either – I'll just go right to bed. Maybe if I start getting more sleep, it'll help my nerves."

Turning away from the dresser mirror as though she were afraid to look at her own naked figure, the nineteen year old wife slipped out of her shorts and at once began to pull the new nightgown over her head to hide the body of which she was feeling so ashamed. Then, as her eyes registered on the gossamer garment, her hands froze in midair. The very idea that Verne had even considered her brazen enough to wear such a revealing nightie was shocking enough, but the lewd thrill of titillation that surged through her bloodstream at the thought of how her husband's eyes would light up with desire when he saw her in it was even more shameful.

It's… it's not just seductive, she thought. It's like something a whore would wear, it really is!

Feeling extremely bold, the young blonde held the diaphanous, apricot-colored scrap of lace up to her naked body and then turned slowly to gaze at her reflection in the floor-length mirror.