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It’s the fourteenth of February. It’s a day that gives most men real difficulty. What to get, what to do, how to show their love for their significant other, or girlfriend or, well, whatever. My wife of thirty plus years isn’t big on presents. It took many years feeling like I failed each year to realize that presents just aren’t her thing, either receiving or giving. To her time spent together expresses so much more than something bought off the shelf. As a result our ‘routine’ for Valentine ‘s Day was flowers delivered to her work, a card and a quiet dinner out. While I’d often hoped for her to wear one of the many sexy little things I’d bought for her over the years and have some hot sex after, somehow that never seemed to transpire.

Last year I went all out. In addition to our usual routine I rented a hotel room with a Jacuzzi tub and set it up with candles and wine and the like. Unfortunately between the wine and the warm water on a work day evening, she fell asleep before…well you can guess what it was before.

For years now, since our kids had moved out and we were alone again, I’d been hinting that maybe it was time to break from our rather boring intimate time and try some new things, some different things, something to spice up our sex lives again. Something to bring it more like it was when we were first married, playful, spontaneous, hot and well…sexy as hell. Now it was sex on every other Saturday morning, in bed, in the same position, doing the same things. Any attempt to talk about it generally ended in an argument ending something like “If you don’t like it we don’t have to do it at all!” before she stormed off and closed herself into the bathroom for a shower alone. As a result, we were rarely talking about it anymore.

Not that I’d completely given up. Christmas came and she was walking around the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast in just panties and a bra, not wanting to get her dress messed up before we went to church. I couldn’t resist the view and opportunity. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and hugged her to me as I pushed her panties down and stroked the curly brown hairs on her mound. I had every intention of getting her naked and having sex right there on the kitchen table. Boy what a mistake! To say she was angry was an understatement. The thing is, I didn’t understand what she was angry about! That I wanted to have sex with her someplace other than the bedroom? That I might actually still be attracted to what I think is a pretty damn sexy body, even though she thinks she’s getting fat? That I’d even think about having sex where we eat dinner? Here it was more than six weeks later and I still had no idea why she was so angry, and it didn’t appear that I was going to get an answer, even though I’d asked. All asking had done was put a complete end to any sex since then.

So, here it was, Valentine’s day again. I’d sent flowers, bought her a card and made reservations at our favorite restaurant. I was on my way home, wondering if she would even be home on time to go to dinner. The last several weeks she’d been coming home late a couple times a week. Most guys would worry that she was seeing someone else, but that just wouldn’t be here style, so I wasn’t worried. Okay, the thought crossed my mind once or twice. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was me? Maybe sex with me wasn’t fun anymore? Was she seeing some young stud that could put out over and over again? It wasn’t a long thought process and it didn’t last long. She certainly wouldn’t step out on me for what I’d been trying to offer her. It certainly wasn’t because I was mean or unkind to her. In fact, all her friends keep telling her how lucky she has it because I’m so helpful and attentive and they wish their husband was as good to them as I am to her. So what was I worried about?

I was worried that this was Valentine ‘s Day and our “fight” from Christmas still was unsettled. I was worried that I wasn’t prepared to start dating again at fifty-five. I know we love each other, but I am quite afraid that maybe she’s decided that love isn’t enough and she wants something that I’m not giving her. I know. It’s a stupid idea, but you know guys. As I pull into the driveway and wait for the garage door to motor open, I’m still worried that she wouldn’t be home.

I let out an almost relieved sigh as I see her car already in the garage. I pulled into the garage, shut down the car, punched the door button and climbed out, grabbing my computer bag and heading into the house.

“I’m home lover!” I called as I set down my bag and hung my coat up on the hook by the door.

“Hi sweetie!” I hear from the kitchen. Well, that was a good sign. She sounded happy. Must not have been too bad of a day at work. “Thank you for the flowers! They’re beautiful! But you know you didn’t have to do that. Roses are SO expensive this time of year!” she called back as I picked up my computer bag and walked down the hall towards the kitchen.

I stopped in the doorway, watching her pour water bahis firmaları into the vase that held the two dozen red roses I’d sent. Seeing the roses wasn’t what made me stop in place. No, not at all. What did make me stop was the sight of the back of my wife in a form fitting red dress that barely came to the middle of her thighs, hugging her round hips and full round butt. Now seeing her in a dress wasn’t THAT unusual. But all of her dresses were “professional” dress. To her that means at least down to her knees. I didn’t think she owned a dress as short as what she had on.

She turned around to face me, a glass of wine in each hand, the red dress hugging her thirty eight double D’s as snugly as I wanted my hands to be at that moment. The deep V down the front of the dress dipped far enough down that I wondered if she had a bra on at all, both the deep V of cleavage and the lack of a bra EXTREEMLY out of character for her. “I take it our reservations are for six?” she asked as she stepped towards me, wobbling slightly in what had to be four inch heels, another thing that stood out of character.

“Uh. Yeah. Damn! You look incredible!” I finally said as she held one of the glasses out to me.

“You like?” she asked, turning slowly for me. Slowly so I could see or slowly so she didn’t fall off the heels that she clearly wasn’t comfortable wearing didn’t matter. It was slow and it was DEFINITLY worth the slow look. “Donna helped me pick it. I used the gift card your mom sent me for Christmas.”

“Well. Tell Donna that it was a hit,” I answered, thinking I was going to have to thank her best friend in person at some point.

“I’m glad.” She smiled, at me. It took at least three more seconds to realize that she had on lipstick. Not bright, gaudy, fuck me red lipstick, but a nice gentle pink lipstick that seemed to highlight her smile just perfectly. I’d only seen her wear makeup half a dozen times as long as I’d known her. One was our wedding, three were the weddings of our kids, and the other two were very special occasions years past. I hadn’t seen her in makeup in almost ten years.

I set my computer bag on the counter, took a sip of the wine and then wrapped my free hand around her, gently pulling her towards me. It was a slow soft kiss, and to my surprise, a wet one. My wife had always been a “closed lip” kisser. Oh she knew how. When we were young we’d do those wet sloppy tongue in each other’s mouths kisses all the time. Somewhere down the line she stopped doing that, preferring little closed lip pecks like she’d give one of our kid’s cheeks. Feeling her open her lips slightly and flick her tongue across my lips was more than a surprise.

“Sorry,” she whispered, apparently feeling some physical reaction that went along with my mental reaction of surprise.

“Sorry for what?” I asked in a whisper before leaning my face towards hers again for another kiss. This time I returned the favor, gently teasing her lips like she had done mine. We broke the kiss and she stepped back, blushing slightly.

“We better finish our wine and go or we’ll miss our reservations,” she said a little huskily before taking a long drink and draining the glass of wine. “I better go easy on this. I have to drive.”

“You don’t have to. I haven’t had much yet, I’ll drive.”

“Well, I’d planned on driving this time. But if you want to,” she said, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “Let me get my coat.” She turned and set the glass on the counter, her turned body giving me a profile view of her in the sexy dress, her nipples making two obvious bumps in the red material. I turned as she walked past and watched her all the way to the closet where she pulled out her heavy winter coat and pulled it on, covering the sexy dress. The dress was so short that I couldn’t even tell she was wearing anything under the coat. “Coming?” she asked, turning to look at me staring at her.

“UH. Yeah,” I answered, setting down the nearly full glass of wine and heading to grab the coat I’d just hung up. I backed out of the garage and my wife walked around and slipped into the passenger seat, her coat completely covering her dress so that as I watched her buckle up her belt she almost looked naked under the coat. It was only then that I realized that her bare legs were anything but, each one encased in stockings with lacy tops that were just peeking out from under the hem of her coat. It took several seconds before I finally dropped the car in reverse and backed out of the drive, my wife clearly trying to suppress a smile as I looked down the street before backing out into it.

“So you had a good day at work?” I asked as we headed down the road.

“It was a pretty good day,” answered.

“That’s good,” I answered, wondering why she hadn’t offered any of the usual conversation components that usually came with that question.

“Looks like we’re supposed to get some snow tonight,” I said after a couple minutes of only the radio breaking the silence.

“It does. We kaçak iddaa need more moisture. Things are a bit dry,” she said before letting that conversation drop as well.

“Did they get your flowers to you early?”

“I came back from a meeting this morning and there they were, on my desk. They’re really pretty. I just wish you didn’t spend so much on roses.”

“Well. Roses are supposed to say love. If I can’t splurge on saying ‘I love you’, what can I splurge on?”

“Maybe. But you know that one rose would have been just as good as two dozen and you wouldn’t have had to spend a hundred dollars.”

“It’s worth every penny if you like ’em,” I answered with a smile.

“Well. I do. Thank you.”

“So you and Donna went shopping?”

“Uh huh.”

“This week?”

“Uh huh.”

“Get anything else interesting besides the dress?”


I had to admit I was getting a little frustrated at her short answers and decided to let conversation go out the window for now. We drove in silence until we parked at the restaurant, where I got out, walking around to open the door for my wife. Yeah, I still do that for what we call dates. That’s the way I was raised. She twisted in the seat, her short skirt and coat sliding up far enough to reveal a pair of VERY tiny and VERY see through red panties as she climbed out. I closed the door behind her and we went in for dinner.

I was at a loss for a good part of dinner, almost every topic I brought up for conversation, quickly routed to a conclusive or non-committal statement indicating disinterest in the subject. Finally we chatted about the food, the décor of the restaurant, the weather how nice each of us looked to the other. What I finally, almost stupidly, realized was typical fair for a blind date. Gee, you look nice, gee this food is good, gee that’s an interesting painting, etc. It was so far removed from what our usual “dates” are that it took me a long time to digest it.

Dinner done, along with several more glasses of wine, more on her part than mine given that I was driving, we walked out to the car. I held her arm to balance her on the unusually high heels until she could drop into the seat and swing her legs in. This had been one of the most unusual dates that the two of us have had since before we were married.

I pulled out of the lot and headed home.

“Turn left at the light,” she said as we approached an intersection.


“Uh huh.”

“Okay,” I answered, moving to the turn lane. “Wanna tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” Was her simple, short, direct answer. I shrugged and followed her directions until we pulled into one of the local hotels that had a nightclub attached. “Park wherever.”

“A night club?” I asked a little surprised.

“What? I can’t arrange the entertainment for tonight?” she asked, looking over at me.

“Sure,” I answered as I pulled into a parking spot. I got out, walked around and once again got a quick flash of her panties as she climbed out. I let her hook her arm in mine as we walked to the sidewalk in front of the building. Instead of turning right to go to the nightclub, she steered us left, walking us to the doors of the hotel.

“Wait here,” said, unlooping her arm from mine and heading to the desk. After several minutes she came back with a key card. “Shall we?” she asked sweetly, hooking her arm in mine again. I let her lead me to the elevator bank and we took the car to the sixth floor. We walked down the hall nearly to the end room and she stuck the card in, pushing the door open when the little light turned green. “Here we are,” she said as she stepped into the room, pulling me along behind her by the hand. “So. I’m guessing you didn’t expect this?” she asked as she walked around, turning on lights in the king suite.

“No,” I admitted, taking my coat off and tossing it on the sofa that was in the room.

“Why not?”

“To be honest? Things have been a little chilly since Christmas,” I answered as she set down her oversized purse and took her coat off, dropping it on top of mine.

“True,” she answered, standing almost nervously while I once again looked at how good she looked in the dress. “I take it you approve of the dress?”

“Quite.” I nodded, stepping towards her with the intention of putting my arms around her.

“Not so fast,” she said, reaching for my hands and stopping me from wrapping them around her. “First we need to talk.”

“Um. Okay,” I answered as she pulled me toward the bed.

She sat down on the end and patted the bed next to her. I turned and sat so I could see her. “I just want you to know, I wasn’t mad at you. I know you thought I was. But that wasn’t it.”

“Okay. What was it then?”

“I was partly mad at myself, partly upset at how I responded and partly upset at you.”

“Okay, but we’re past that?” I asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug as she stood up. “We’ll see.”

“Okay,” I answered, not at all sure I understood where kaçak bahis she was going with any of this. She took my hand and pulled me from the bed, pulling me around to the side and coaxing me to sit on the bed with my back to the headboard and a pile of pillows she pulled together behind me.

“Now. I want you to just sit here and watch,” she said as she stepped away. She moved to the end of the bed, and one at a time, pulled off her shoes, lifting them and dropping them on the floor. She looked quite a bit shorter without the heels, but I really didn’t have all that much time to notice as she reached behind her back and pulled the zipper of the dress down, the material covering her big sexy breasts spreading slightly as it loosened. I could just make out the slightest bit of red lace hiding under the dress until she eased the shoulder straps slowly off her shoulders. There was clearly something red and lacy under the dress, which she slowly pulled down revealing more see-through lace until I could see that what she had on was a red bra made up of some kind of lace with the cups a thin layer of red translucent mesh, allowing me to see all of her nipples and areola through the top. She continued to pull the dress down until it slipped down her legs, exposing the red panties I’d seen earlier. Her dark brown curls tried to sneak around and through the thin red mesh as she stepped out of the dress, wearing nothing but the sexy translucent panty and bra and her stockings.

One leg at a time, she lifted her foot and set it on the end of the bed, slowly rolling the stocking down her leg until she worked it off her foot and tossed it at me, each one landing in my lap. She stepped to the sofa, dug in her bag for her phone and something else, which she kept hidden behind her back. She stepped over to the bed, set the wad of material in her hand on the table next to the bed and then up onto it, standing with her legs on either side of me so I was looking up at her. “I don’t want you to forget how I look,” she said quietly, as she took her phone and turned it on.

I sat below her, watching her take pictures of herself, or more appropriately, parts of herself. First her breasts in the bra, and then close-ups of each one, in and then out of the see-through material. She moved the phone farther down and took pictures of the panties on her and up between her legs. She pulled the material aside and took several pictures of her now exposed pussy. “Getting you turned on?” she asked as she settled her panties back in place.

“Definitely,” I agreed. “I hope I’m going to get those pictures.”

“Eventually,” she said with a grin. “Now. Your turn,” she said, stepping over me and then off the bed. “Come on,” she coaxed, pulling me by the hand. I slid off the bed and let her lead me around to the end of the bed before she walked back and climbed onto the bed where I had been, settling herself against the pillows with her legs spread so that I could see her pussy through the sheer panties. “Now, give me the best strip tease you can!” she said with a grin.

“Sure!” I agreed readily, enjoying the little game she was playing. I was horny as hell from watching her, and the thought of giving her a strip tease was turning me on almost as much. I stepped back from the end of the bed and bent over to take my shoes off, tossing each one aside like she had done with her heels. I’d only gotten my tie off before there was a knock on the hotel room door.

“Oh wait a second. Don’t do anything!” she said as she quickly pushed off the bed.

“Huh?” I asked, feeling a little irritation at the interruption as she walked to the door and stood on her tip toes to look out the little peep-hole. I was practically shocked though when she quickly unlocked and opened the door in nothing but her little red see-through outfit. The shock deepened even more as she stood aside to let her best friend Donna into the room. “What the..?” I asked quietly, feeling the sexiness of the night just tumble out of the window all six floors.

“Perfect timing,” my wife said as she practically pulled Donna into the room. Donna slid off her coat as she walked across the room looking at me. My wife took her coat and tossed it onto the pile on the sofa and then crawled up onto the bed where she had been before, patting the bed next to her. “Up here Donna.”

“I don’t understand,” I said quietly with a frown.

“Don’t understand what? You’re supposed to get undressed,” my wife said as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have her best friend watching me strip.

“In front of Donna?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean you can choose not to, but it’d be pretty hard to have sex if you don’t take your clothes off.”

“In front of Donna?”

“Uh huh.”

Donna isn’t a bad looking woman. She’s a little shorter than my wife, making her a good ten inches shorter than my six feet. She has a very petite build with a modest size chest, a feature that was well displayed in the short blue dress she had on, looking even a little larger than normal at the moment. It just wasn’t that I was bashful per se, but getting undressed in front of another besides my wife wasn’t exactly usual for me. “You’re sure about this?”

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