Joel sat on a barstool at what used to be his local pub cradling a half-filled glass of single malt in his hand. He fancied himself as a bit of a connoisseur of Whiskey and it felt good although a little strange to be back in the place that held many happy memories. For sure, there had been times when things hadn't been so good and those events were what had led to divorce but he put those bad memories aside and mused instead on his situation of being a company rep whose job had by chance bought him back in the town where he had previously lived. He looked around and it almost felt as if he had never been away, everything seemed so familiar, just as it was before he was 'forced', in his opinion, to move away to make a new life for himself.
He also held a lingering hope that as the pub had promoted this mid-week evening as 'singles night' maybe someone of the opposite sex might take notice of him, a middle-age man, sitting there on his own. It hadn't happened yet but 'one never knew if you didn't try' was his way of thinking. As he nursed his drink and this hollow hope he also thought and reflected on the circumstances that had bought him there; it was something he often thought about.
Joel had been married (happily, he had considered) to the beautiful Helena; her, with the brunette hair brushing her shoulders and the neatly trimmed hair fringing her pussy; her, who every other man wanted to get to know and was envious of Joel that he had got there first.
At the time leading up to their parting they were both in their mid-30s and, for sure, as much as he adored her, he also recognised she might have her faults. By the same token, she had no hesitation in pointing out that he had a few of his own, not least of which he had let himself go and was no longer the fit young sportsman she had met and married but had over the years gained a beer-belly and lost his most of his hair, but for the first few years, for all their differences, they got along fine and he considered himself a lucky man to have such a feisty wife.
He took another sip of his whiskey and recalled that fateful night when life turned around and things had really gone horribly wrong.
It should have been all so different ... but it wasn't. The break-up began and had all come about when he had thought to give them both a treat of celebrating their wedding anniversary by going away to a seaside resort and having a 'romantic' weekend; to smooth over a recent particularly rough patch they had been having in their relationship. He felt that he had done all the right things in making the booking and the fact that the boutique hotel had advertised itself as a perfect venue for 'honeymooners' should have clinched the deal. How wrong could he have been?
He reflected on the rows that they had been having and admitted to himself that maybe he shouldn't have been so critical of the way she dressed and acted. He wondered if he had just accepted that her gentle flirting with other men whenever they were in company was really just harmless fun, nothing more, then things maybe wouldn't have gone so wrong.
However, there was the other thing that she did, that of making fun of him of the times when he couldn't get a proper erection and she would call him 'useless' before masturbating herself to the orgasm he couldn't give her. That really hurt but his pride wouldn't allow him to admit that her jesting had hit a nerve and the name-calling with him calling her 'a slut' had just added flames to the fire.
"Ready for another?"
He came out of his daydreaming and saw with some surprise that his glass had somehow become empty and the blonde barmaid was standing in front of him asking if he wanted a refill.
"Oh, yeah," he stammered, "same again, thanks."
She took his glass and he looked her up and down from the short hair on her neck down to the pleasant sight of her backside as she stretched to reach the row of optics to carefully measure out the precious single malt. To his eyes she looked most attractive and just a little familiar and he guessed she had probably worked behind the bar when he used to visit this pub back in the 'old days'. He put that thought aside as he focussed on and appreciated the evidence of the pantie-line under the tight skirt she was wearing and wondered if it was sensible knickers or some exotic lingerie that was covering her pussy.
She put the glass in front of him, took his money and, giving him a wink, turned her attention to waiting customers at the other end of the bar, leaving him once more to his thoughts which were now coloured by the flirty gesture of the barmaid's wink and the evidence of her pantie-line. It was this thought of women's underwear that took his mind straight back to that nice boutique hotel where he and Helena had stayed; he considered that it was lingerie that had prompted the break-up. Maybe it had been a mistake to have encouraged her to wear it.
He took a sip from the refilled glass and continued with his self-analysis and concluded that maybe he had been a little hypocritical in his way of thinking. While he didn't care for his wife flirting and sometimes appearing like a slut in company he did hold a fantasy of her being dressed provocatively and acting in this manner. He had often thought of her being wearing such women's underwear, especially when it was just them being on their own.
It was with this fantasy in mind that in anticipation of the anniversary weekend, he had bought as a surprise present a complete set of matching lingerie for her to wear. He smiled to himself as he recalled the embarrassing experience of going to the ladies' boutique that specialised in that sort of thing but the assistant had been very helpful and he had been grateful that she had suppressed her amusement and had anticipated the sort of things he was looking for. She gave the impression that she had dealt with similar customers as himself in the past and he wondered if they, like him, were looking to purchase something that would cure a dysfunction and give a boost to his sex life. The young lady was certainly perceptive and he really appreciated her help selecting the provocative garments. He recalled his feelings of anticipation as he looked on at her beautifully manicured hands as she fondled, folded the lingerie and packed them into the designer gift wrapping.
Helena seemed more amused than grateful when she unwrapped the package with its reams of tissue paper hiding the contents of the box. She pulled out the corset (the woman in the shop had called it a bustier) and held it up to examine the black, silky garment with the half-cup bra and the suspender ribbons dangling down; she smiled when she discovered the packet with the black nylons; she suppressed a laugh when at the bottom of the box she found a pair of crotchless panties, fringed with delicate lace and, just like the other pieces of the 'set', black. He hadn't been so bold as to buy her shoes to go with the outfit for he knew she favoured black high-heels that she would have packed herself regardless. His assumption had been correct.
He had been relieved to see her positive reactions as she pulled out the sexy clothing; he had been nervous that she may have taken exception to his gesture and used it to have another snipe at him about his 'poor taste'. As she examined each piece he had harboured hopes that his fantasy was about to come true and that to see her dressed in this outfit would cure his embarrassing erectile dysfunction. She thanked him for his thoughtful anniversary gift and apologised, somewhat sarcastically, that she hadn't given as much thought as him to buying such a 'useful present'.
He had responded that it would be a gift enough to see her wearing the outfit and admitted to long having held a fantasy of seeing her dressed so.
She had bristled a little at hearing this saying something to the effect of, "... don't you think I'm good enough for you then?"
He assured her that she was and the banter back-and-forth ceased when she picked up the package and disappeared into the bathroom to change leaving Joel laying on the bed waiting for her return.
She reappeared dressed just like the vision he had long held and his cock reacted admirably to the sight as she played out (somewhat half-heartedly, he thought) the part of being a slut 'just for him'. She stood alongside the bed and gave a slow twirl and his now stiff cock gave twitch as she exposed her charms to him. He admired the swell of her breasts held so prettily in the half-cup bra of the bustier, her nipples peeking over the lace-trimmed edge; he loved the look of her bum cheeks and the satin straps of the suspenders that held the black nylons on her shapely legs; he caught his breath as she completed turning around and he could see the true effect of the black panties with the intriguing gap that subtly exposed the pink lips of her pussy.
She smiled to see the effect her performance was having on him and although she wouldn't have admitted it to him, wearing this 'slut outfit' did have a certain appeal and it gave her a feeling of being empowered, of being in control and being able to have a man do her bidding. She looked on him laying on the bed, holding his stiff throbbing cock which was dribbling pre-cum onto his beer-belly and she met his expectations by climbing onto the bed and laying alongside him and spreading her legs which caused the panties to gape wider she said, "Come on then, big boy, you can fuck me now.."
Joel needed no further encouragement and he straightaway turned onto his knees and positioned himself between hers. He looked down at her pussy so delightfully fringed with black lace and aligned his cock between the pink puffy lips which were glistening with her juices.
She purred that he felt so big but he didn't hear, he was too intent on making sure he was positioned correctly; he needn't have worried for she was so wet that he had no trouble sliding straight in. With one stroke he felt his balls rub against the silken material of the lingerie he had bought her; with the second stroke he felt his climax welling up; on the third stroke he shot his load deep inside her. There was no fourth stroke, he held fast and as his orgasm subsided he felt his cock give that familiar sensation of going limp.
Helena was furious. Just as she was looking forward to being properly fucked, once again, her limp-dicked husband had let himself down. She pushed him off her and the look on her face said it all.
It was not a good look and Joel recognised that his plans for a weekend of seduction and making love and reconnecting with his wife may not be working out as well as he had anticipated. He was not wrong, Helena began the often-heard accusations of him being useless in bed and how she would appreciate 'just for once' enjoy having a real man pleasure her rather than a one-shot loser like himself.
That accusation never failed to hurt and Joel searched his vocabulary to find something about her that he could counter with.. but failed. He tried apologising but that ploy didn't help matters ... it never did. He suggested that they tried again later, after dinner, but that proposition seemed to anger her further and the discussion sank into a bad tempered exchange which to him didn't make a lot of sense.
