That over-sexed dog husband of mine has never given up trying to get me sexually motivated. He's constantly arranging romantic get-aways, buying sexy lingerie and even a few toys here and there to try to light the fires of passion. This is a story about one such recent attempt.
Searching for something to spark up our sex life, Jack has promoted public role-playing as a psychological stimulant. I've never fully bought into it and we've only really gone out once to try it out. That evening was okay but nothing spectacular and, as usual, did a lot more for him than it did for me. I'm not much of an extrovert, so I found it hard to really get into character, especially when I wasn't fully committed to the whole idea from the beginning.
A few weeks ago Jack suggested that we try the role-play scenario again. I was less than enthusiastic for all the reasons already mentioned, but thought I would at least make some effort to meet Jack's illusion for generating sexual excitement.
So the basic plot line was about as average as they come, identical to the first half-hearted attempt. Jack had planned that we would go to a local hotel bar where businessmen were known to hang out for happy hour at the end of the day. I would go in first and take a seat at the bar, strike up some conversation with the male clientele and generally flirt my way to a few rounds of free drinks. I would entice them along the way with some sexual innuendo and maybe some light physical contact to give them hope of more action later. Jack would come in a half hour or so later and take a seat further away and watch the show. He told me how it turned him on to watch other guys get worked up over me. And he was certain that if I saw that a gentleman or two were attracted to me, that I would uncover at least some of that long-lost confidence in my appearance and my sexuality. And while it was true that I no longer thought much of myself as pretty or sexually attractive, I was totally skeptical of the notion that a brief spell of attention from a couple of bar flies would somehow resurrect those long-buried feelings. I'm not 20 or 30, and I just figured I was way past that.
Now, I didn't feel terribly attractive. Wrinkles, a few extra pounds and no estrogen will do that to you. I guess my best physical asset is my tits. Jack says I have the best natural tits west of the Mississippi and that most 30 year old women would have to trade up to match mine. So, I'll go along with some of that although I do believe he is highly prejudiced. I'll admit that they are exceptionally perky for my age, now a C cup (used to be a D cup before kids!) with long and quite hard nipples. They are undoubtedly my best asset.
In our first outing, I wore a nice cocktail dress; nothing flashy or super sexy. There was nothing about it that flashed a "hey, look over here" sign when I walked into the room. So this time I decided I would up my game and go big; really big, no gigantic. I would grit my teeth and escape my comfort zone. I would drop my boundaries. This was going to take some alcohol, early and often.
I had Jack pour a glass of champagne for me. Tequila and champagne are my inhibition destroyers and I needed something to knock down those walls. A hot, soaking bath wouldn't hurt either.
I drew a bubble bath and stepped into the tub and quickly downed the champagne. After I guzzled the first glass, I sent Jack back to pour another. He brought it in and I was more prudent in drinking the second glass. I relaxed and let the warm water and the bubbly start the magic transformation from aged, motley housewife to voluptuous, erotic siren. I carefully shaved my pussy, leaving a v-shaped patch at the top. I'm not a big fan of that but Jack absolutely loves it and I wanted to give him this little present.
After the bath, I pulled a totally sheer black blouse out of the closet and a black skirt to go with it. The blouse was collared, had long sheer sleeves and buttoned up the front. I called Jack into the master bath and asked him what he thought of the outfit I had selected. His eyes lit up, and his eyebrow rose up quizzically. He looked at me and said "Very nice. But what are you really going to wear?"
I gave him a wicked grin and responded "Oh yeah. I see what you mean. I need a bra and some panties".
I walked over to my lingerie draw and pulled out an open cup bra which was a bedroom favorite of his along with a garter belt and a pair of back-seamed stockings, but no panties.
"OK. I guess I have everything now" I said naughtily.
His face still bore the look of skepticism. He wasn't buying that I was going to actually wear this outfit out in public. To be perfectly honest, I still wasn't sure that I was going to either. I half expected him to shake his head "no" and insist that I tone it down. It scared the hell out of me to come to the realization that he wasn't going to stop me and I would actually have to wear ensemble.
I slipped on my clothes and sat down to my vanity and makeup mirror. I gazed into the mirror and I swore I heard that magic mirror tell me that I could again be attractive and sexy. I started with my hair teasing it up to give it the JBF (just been fucked) look that Jack loved. I then went to work on my makeup. I normally don't wear much makeup and maybe it was the champagne talking but I decided to make the makeup just as bold and daring as the outfit I was wearing.
Methodically I applied heavy eyeshadow, and rosy red rouge topped off with fire engine red lipstick covered with lip gloss. The transformation was nearly complete. I pulled out a pair of long, dangling earrings. Something was missing; something risky to put the exclamation point on this get up. I was actually beginning to get into this gig and I could feel a twinge of excitement between my legs. The preparation process itself was a becoming somewhat of a turn-on for me. Perhaps being a temporary slut was more arousing than I ever thought it would be.
