It can be creative or simple, private or public, unique or repetitive, lighting quick or seconds long, fully bared or underweared.
I’ve given my wife a green light, carte blanche, free rein to rock my senses any place at any time as only she can. In fact, I’ve gone beyond giving her the power; I’ve requested that she use it. Use it often.
Yes, I’m speaking of the almighty power of the flash.
The flash is one of the pinpoint-accurate, earthquake-potent, and bullet-swift weapons in any wife’s arsenal. Like a lightning strike to the eyeballs, it’s over in an instant but it electrifies with a supercharged current that can leave a man literally shaking with tense energy or even paralyzed by it.
On a date night out, we step into a dim alley and she lifts her blouse, showing me a glimpse of a sheer bra that will haunt my mind for the rest of the night.
As she loads groceries into the trunk, she hikes her skirt for a moment, burning her skimpily clad cheeks onto my retinas.
While climbing into the pool, she pulls her bikini bottom aside, giving me the briefest gander at something grander, and I won’t be able to climb out of the pool for a bit.
Or while we do the dishes as the kids play around the corner, she goes all Mardi Gras without a bra and no suds will wash that image from my imagination.
It can be creative or simple, private or public, unique or repetitive, lighting quick or seconds long, fully bared or underweared, but the unanticipated glimpse is a cogent catalyst for fantasy in the minutes or even hours that follow.
Part of it, of course, is seeing such sexy imagery, but there’s a psychological dynamic at work as well. When I take my eyes off the road for a moment and catch a peek at a pair of breasts next to me, I not only enjoy the view but also enjoy knowing that for a moment, my wife wanted to be seen as a sexual creature.
For a hornball dude, it’s nice to know she’s got shenanigans on the brain at times, too. It makes me wonder how often it crosses her mind. And when they happen more often, it really gets me thinking. And thinking she’s thinking.
Like a laser beam from a sci-fi movie, this weapon gets the job done well, and personally, I love getting shot at. And if you’re wondering, I’m not too worried about a stray shot hitting a bystander, so long as she’s aiming at me. Depending, of course, on the bystander.
And no, it never EVER gets old when my wife flashes me.