I woke up, far too early for a Saturday morning, to find my husband standing in the doorway to our bedroom, singing "Happy Birthday Millie" painfully off key. Millie was, of course, me, and a nickname for my rather aged first name, Mildred. While this name surely invokes an image of a centuries-old crone in most people's heads, I had only just turned 43. A nothing-age, a number not even worth mentioning. Which is why I was all the more surprised to find Bob, my husband of 15 years, belting his heart out, holding a tray with a lit candle, a glass of champagne, and multiple pastries.
Bob was almost 10 years older than me. We didn't have any kids, and our marriage had been less than passionate over the past couple of years, to say the least. We didn't resent each other, or anything like that. Just kind of...existed together, day to day. But now, he was holding the tray, grinning widely and looking genuinely excited for the first time in months.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said once he had finished his tune. "You look amazing." That last part was a lie. I did absolutely not look amazing. My long, black hair (I made sure to dye out the greys) was a mess, my face was still crusted with sleep, and I was wearing a nightgown that was not the least bit flattering.
"What's all this about, Bob?" I asked, already beginning to smile at my husband's unexpected energy.
"It's your birthday, Millie!" He exclaimed. "Can't I do something special for you on your birthday?"
I didn't have the heart to tell him that celebrating a birthday that wasn't even worth mentioning was a pointless endeavor. I allowed him to hand me the tray and gently blow out the candle. I took a sip of the champagne and slowly tore off a piece of a croissant. Bob began to hum a song, and the whole thing felt incredibly sweet and tender.
"Thank you," I said, sincerely. "That is very sweet of you." Bob beamed at me. He was aging too, of course, and time had not been as kind to him as it had been to me. He had lost his hair some years back, and his waist was quickly expanding. But right now, he looked young and full of vitality, somehow.
I ate my pastries, and drank my champagne, and we talked about little things. What groceries we needed to get, the next house renovation project we were planning. The ordinary stuff of our lives. By the time I finished my breakfast, my husband looked flushed and excited, as if there were something else he had in mind for me.
"Will you join me in the living room?" he asked. "I have a surprise for you."
I groaned, and stretched my arms out above my head. "Honey, it's... 8:30 AM on a Saturday," I complained, peering at the bedside alarm clock. "What kind of surprise are you planning that would require getting up this early?"
Bob grinned. "You'll see. Take your time, though. Stay in bed a bit longer, if you need to. Just meet me in the living room when you're ready, okay?" Then, he gave me a sweet kiss on my forehead, picked up the tray, and exited the bedroom. I was left alone, somewhat stunned, not sure what to make of all this.
It was true, I was notoriously grumpy in the morning, and I could have easily just curled up under the covers and drifted back to sleep. But I had no clue what Bob was planning, and I was curious enough to want to find out. So, after indulging in another hour of bedtime bliss, I emerged from the bedroom wearing a T-shirt, pajama bottoms, and slippers. The thought of a nice birthday outfit didn't even cross my mind. Which is why I was all the more unprepared for what Bob presented me with.
As I shuffled into the living room, I let out a gasp that made my jaw drop all the way to the floor. My husband was sitting in a recliner, wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, and the biggest grin I've ever seen adorned on his face. At the other end of the room stood two... hunks, for lack of a better word. Two men, both naked aside from matching black boxer shorts, and theatrical masks that obscured their faces, stood next to each other, posing with their hands behind their backs, puffing their chests out. I froze.
Suddenly, I felt incredibly under-dressed, and a blush spread from my face to the rest of my body, as I wished I had prepared myself for this somehow. Bathed, put on makeup, picked out some lingerie... anything. I turned to where Bob was sitting with that huge grin of his, and fixed him with a concerned stare.
"Sweetheart, this is your birthday gift," he explained. "The one on the left is called One, and the one on the right is called Two. They are here for your pleasure, and will obey your commands."
My eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. They looked like they were probably in their 20s, muscular, toned, and with perfectly smooth, hairless skin. Meanwhile, I was over here, in a wrinkled T-shirt and sweatpants, trying to collect myself. I coughed a few times and shuffled awkwardly, struggling to figure out what to say or do. Finally, I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself.
"Hello gentlemen," I stuttered, unsure of where to look. "Can you... Can you excuse us for a minute, please? We need to discuss something."
The men nodded and bowed slightly, before exiting the room, leaving my husband and me alone. I collapsed onto the couch, my face still flushed.
"Bob, what is all this?" I asked, breathless. "What is this about?"
Bob stood up from the recliner and walked toward me, kneeling in front of me and taking my hands in his.
"Do you like your gift, honey?" he asked sweetly. I peered down at him, unsure of what to say.
"It's... It's a nice thought," I admitted. "But I just wasn't expecting this, I guess. It's a lot to take in."
Bob gave me a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, Millie," he started. "I know we haven't been as active lately, as far as having a sex life. And honestly, I think it's about time we did something about it. I wanted to get you a gift that would make you feel happy and desirable again, you know? I mean, those guys are ripped! And you can make them do anything you want!"
I still couldn't believe this was happening. "What about you, Bob? Will you be okay? Will it bother you if I..."
"Of course not," he assured me. "I'll be right here. I'm enjoying the show, sweetheart. This is all for you. If you don't like it, we can stop, no harm done. But don't worry about me, even for a second."
With that, he gently kissed my hands, and returned to his recliner. I was stunned. Stunned, shocked, and... aroused. My pussy was beginning to tingle, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "I think... I need to freshen up a bit."
"Take your time, honey," Bob said with a smile. "I'll be right here with your present."
I practically ran to the bathroom, threw my clothes off, and stepped into the shower. I scrubbed myself until I was squeaky clean, trying desperately to forget my age and insecurities. I even managed to find a bit of makeup in my cabinet, and quickly did my best to look presentable. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing my hair and feeling much more... sensual. I put on some basic makeup, then shaved my legs and most of my pussy, leaving a black, bushy, downward-pointing triangle. That always turned Bob on. And hell, if we were going to spice things up today, we might as well try to recreate some of the old magic.
I wrapped a towel around myself, not sure who I was trying to cover up for, and all but ran to the bedroom. The next item on the agenda: a scandalous outfit to boost my confidence. My underwear drawer was just as average as my normal clothes, and I found myself digging through it, searching for a nice bra and panty set to pair with some of my favorite nightgowns. But that's when I found it.
It was a full set of black lace lingerie, that Bob had bought for me, years ago. He had never actually seen me wear it, since the occasion had never come up. But now was the perfect time. I pulled on the stockings, clipped them to the garter belt, and slowly wriggled into the bra and panties. Next, I dug out a pair of heels that matched the whole ensemble, and stepped into them, wobbling a bit at the sudden height. As I turned to look at myself in the mirror, I gasped, caught off guard by my own transformation.
I looked... hot. Elegant, sensual, confident. The stockings gripped my legs tightly, showing off every curve of my body, and the bra and panties were mostly see-through, my nipples visible through the lace. They were standing at attention, poking out through the delicate fabric. My pussy was on fire, wet and soaking the gusset of my panties. My whole body was buzzing with excitement, urging me to go through with this, and I suddenly felt like a much younger woman.
My legs trembled as I strode back to the living room, heels clicking against the floor. As I entered the room, Bob's jaw dropped, and the men froze. I strolled up to them, trying my best to swagger in a sexy way, and threw my hands on my hips.
"Well," I purred. "Where were we, gentlemen?"
One and Two both bowed again, and returned to their position by the wall, hands behind their backs. This time, however, their eyes were glued to me. They were observing my every move, and my heart was beating faster than ever.
"Command them, Millie," Bob whispered excitedly from the recliner. "You can do whatever you want with them. Tell them what to do."