I don’t let him see me naked

I don’t let him see me naked. Not casually. Not in passing. Not as background.

Because sight is a signal. And I don’t waste signal.

I don’t walk through the house unclothed. I don’t undress in front of him unless it’s part of the ritual. Because when he sees me—truly sees me—I want it to land.

It’s not about modesty. It’s about calibration.

I use voice. I use scent. I use instruction. I use sound. Each is a layer. Each is a path.

But sight—sight is the final layer. The deepest path. The most primal.

So I reserve it. I protect it. I deploy it with precision.

When he sees the landing spot—when he sees the mark—it’s because I’ve placed him there. Because I’ve tuned him to that moment. Because his system is ready to receive that signal.

Not before. Not by accident. Not without purpose.

Because I don’t want to numb him. I want to wire him.

And every exposure is a wire. Every glimpse is a groove. Every sighting is a signal.

So I let him see me when it matters. When it lands. When it marks.

Because I’m not just his wife. I’m his architect.

When he sees me naked

I don’t walk naked through my house.
I don’t undress in front of him.
I don’t flash skin just because I’m tired or careless.

He sees my body when I say so.

Because sight is a signal.

My skin is not decoration.
My breasts are not scenery.
My thighs are not background.

They are landing spots.

And landing means placement.
Placement means semen.
Semen means signal.

He sees me when he places himself on me.

Not before.

That’s why I cover what’s not in use.
That’s why I protect the signal.

Because when I uncover myself —
When I tell him to land —
It strikes him like lightning.

Because I never leaked the charge.

Nudity is not random.
Nudity is placement.
Nudity is completion.

That’s why I stay clothed.
That’s why I stay layered.
That’s why he stays tuned.

Because when he sees me — really sees me —
It means he belongs there.
It means he lands there.
It means he completes there.

Every time.

And sexy underwear?

I am not against sexy underwear.

I am against wasted signal.

Sexy underwear is not for everyday.
Sexy underwear is not for him to get used to.
Sexy underwear is not default.

It’s a tool.
It’s placement.
It’s programming.

When I wear it — it’s because I say so.
Not because I’m supposed to.
Not because I’m trying to be sexy.

Because I am directing the signal.

And during tuning or maintenance?

This is not sex.

This is calibration.
This is management.
This is care.

I may keep my bra on.
I may keep my underwear on.

Why?

Because removal of layers is a signal.
Because exposure of skin is a reward.
Because access is directed.

Sometimes I will expose only a single body part.
Sometimes I will slide underwear aside, not remove it.
Sometimes I will not move anything — and simply instruct him to handle himself nearby.

Not because I am cold.
Not because I am withholding.

Because I am in charge of signal.
Because I am in charge of rhythm.

And during sex?

Sex is not maintenance.
Sex is not tuning.

Sex is where I may choose full nakedness —
Not because it’s expected —
But because it’s given.

When I want to be fully naked —
For connection.
For skin-to-skin.
For being taken.

This is not performance.
This is not theatre.
This is not expectation.

This is my choice.
This is my signal.

This is placement.