stocking malfunction

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stocking malfunction
I haven’t worn sexy underwear for heaven knows how long, years. I managed to get the stocking on my left leg fine but the bastard right one will just not pull up straight without creasing. I have plenty of time but this is stupid.

I want to look my best. I want to feel my best too, and that means sexy underneath my clothes too. But if either of my stockings are creased I will spend the whole evening worried I will be looking like bruised fruit on a supermarket shelf rather than first choice.

I blame my ex husband for this, it’s definitely his fault. I wouldn’t need to be going out looking ‘my best’ if it weren’t for him showing up.

For years we were married; happily I thought. We were the model couple, him good looking, working everyday and me the stay at home wife, bringing up the k**s free to do charitable works for the less fortunate and also keep the house nice. I was really happy, I didn’t want anything else. For me it was living the dream.

And then, out of the blue he destroyed everything. Bastard!

One evening after dinner he told me.

He had obviously been agitated all day but I knew it was best to wait for him to confide in me when there was something on his mind. He announced he was leaving me, wanted a divorce, was involved with somebody new. Just like that, no preamble, no softening the blow.

At first my head went blank, everything was a haze, I was drowning, it was awful.

What did he mean, what had I done wrong, who was the other woman? I asked him all that, no tears, just matter of fact.

He tried to be nice. He re-assured me I had done nothing wrong. Phew that was a relief then! {For those of you not blessed with too much grey matter the last comment was supposed to be said in a very sarcastic tone}. I wasn’t at fault.Thank heavens for that as if it mattered now.

He told me there was a woman at work, a rather younger woman as it turned out. It always like that isn’t it? Always a younger bit of stuff with time on her hands to do what you couldn’t at the end of the day when everyone was tired and there was cleaning and cooking to be done and school uniform to be got ready. She no doubt had time to get him a drink ready at the end if the day, pleasure him on her knees when he came in and still have time to do her hair and look good before they went out for the evening.

Apparently tThey had been away together on a business trip and, wait for the big cliché, ‘one thing led to another’ it wasn’t just physical, they ‘fell in love.’

Love? I dounbt she knew the meaning of the word. Love is cleaning up the sick when your k**s are ill and mopping your husband’s brow when things aren’t going well at work and a thousand and one mundane other things like making sure you don’t run out of ketchup and have the favourite flavour of juice always available when you’d rather be sitting with your feet up watching a soppy drama on afternoon TV doing your nails! That’s love.

He was infatuated with her and their relationship had blossomed. He couldn’t continue to ‘live a lie,’ he was off, leaving me permanently, after all the years of marriage; he promised he would do the right thing by me financially.

I have to say the last statement was actually a relief, no sarcasm. If he was off, money would be an issue, I hadn’t worked for years and wasn’t sure i was employable any more.

Left for a younger office wannabe bimbo.

After a life of monogamous devotion to him.

I suppose I might have seen it coming, it’s the oldest story in the world. I suppose I could have dressed up sexy for him more often and performed oral sex more regularly and even pretended to cum when he deigned to take me, but I am human so behaved normally.

I felt sure this new woman would soon tire of him.

But the divorce went through and they hooked up apparently long term and i didn’t want to see him again, even when he came to visit his c***dren who were pretty much grown up and autonomous by then anyway, I didn’t want to see his loathsome cheating face ever again.

That was three years ago when my self esteem crashed and burned. I became something of a recluse. Not wanting to socialise despite encouragement and kindness from my friends. I didn’t miss men or sex or anything like that. I carved out a tolerable existence, but shunned company and socialising.

Out of the blue a couple of weeks ago the man called me and said he wanted to meet.

So we did.

We met in a local cafe, it was a nice day and we sat outside. I made no effort to look good for him, but I was respectable. He had aged a bit but he was still extremely attractive. I definitely still desired him bodily.

Listen to me now, don’t you judge me. He may have treated me abominably but I am still a woman and know a good looking man when I see one, even if he was the one that made me lose myself esteem, so keep any judgmental thoughts to yourself! I find him physically attractive and I always did and always will. End of.

We made embarrassed small talk, k**s, health, usual stuff. Eventually he came to the point.

‘I have been so stupid’ he said. Well that much was self evident. ‘I should never have left you’ he said, another truth that went without saying. ‘I was infatuated with her, I don’t know why. Maybe her youthful attention and playfulness blinded me.’ Wow this was all corny and sorry to use the word again, clichéd as it comes.

He told me he was miserable almost from day one. They had nothing in common, no shared interests no nothing. He knew he had done wrong, he had been so stupid. He said even her looks weren’t that wonderful when he looked closer, they were more youthful attractiveness than true beauty and he said as he looked at me now he could see I was far more attractive than her and once again he told me how stupid he had been to leave. He told me he was ashamed of himself and was so sorry for the misery he had brought me.

And for the first time ever, from the time I first met him, all those years ago when we were teenagers, teenage sweethearts, he started to sob. Tears flowed uncontrollably down his cheeks. I had never seen him cry before, he was always so self controlled, and that was part of his attraction. He was so grief stricken that people at other tables turned to look at him. I handed him a serviette that accompanied our drinks t wipe the tears.

As he sobbed he uttered half intelligible words like, sorry, ashamed, foolish all were repeated over and over.

I watched him like i might a sad TV programme. I felt for him in his anguish. My eyes moistened. Tears ran down my cheeks too. My mascara must have run at that point because when I freshened up later I saw the tell tale black smudging down my cheeks.

He saw my tears, and that set him off again… he repeated that he was ‘so, so sorry for everything.’

He wanted to make it right, if only i would forgive him and take him back.

My heart melted, I felt wave after wave of pity and love for him. He was broken and it seemed only i could fix him.

I stood and opened my arms and he stood too and we embraced.

We held each other for a while ignoring the strange cameo we must have made in the cafe. ‘please forgive me, let me make amends’ he begged.

He snivelled on and I felt for him like a mother feels for the favourite c***d that has failed at the thing he wanted most. I wanted so much to take him home and mother him and nurse him back to his rightful place as dominant male in the pride.

Tears flowed down my cheeks, I released my grip and looked fondly at him holding both his hands in mine, and he anticipated my acquiescence.

Fuck Him!

Despite feeling pity for him and still fancying him something awful, I am not quite that stupid, so fuck him!

He can sod straight back to his miserable life with that whore he shacked up with. Look what they did to me, look what he did to me. He shattered my lovely world, they, he, removed my self esteem, made me into a virtual hermit. Bastard!

How dare he come back and ask to take up where we left off, who does he think i am? What does he think i am, an idiot or something?

If he couldn’t manage to keep his prick under control he should have just fucked her a few times and kept the matter to himself. I didn’t need to know he had eyes for a younger office bimbo, whore, slut!!! He could have just taken her away for an odd weekend pretended to be on business, satisfy his carnal lusts for young pussy and then come back to me and leave me in blissful ignorance.
Now i really have to apologise for my language, i feel certain you didn’t expect a privately educated lady from the suburbs to utter such filth, but really, nothing else seems quite appropriate under the circumstances in which i found myself.

So i replied to request for his return as follows,
‘I don’t think so, it’s too late for amends or coming back. I am afraid there is too much damage done. And whilst I don’t wish you ill, I don’t think it would be a good idea to see each other again so please stay away from me forever.’

And i left. When I got home I cried and cried. When my daughter got home she found me sobbing. I told her what had occurred and she said I had done the right thing, ‘good for you.’ And then she told me off. I was taken aback.

She said I was an attractive capable woman and should be out in the world doing stuff, making a difference and re-igniting my social life. Not living the life of a ‘quasi hermit crab.’ And you know she was right. And because of her funny vernacular we both laughed, and cried, and laughed some more (more clichés, oh dear me).

Next day I started my good deeds for others again,. I called mall my friends and we made ‘arrangements.’

Tonight we are going on a girly night at a local club with a reputation for ‘amour.’ Or rather a place where it is rumoured older women, me for instance, might go for a casual assignation. And such an assignation seemed a very good idea, i could do with some no strings physical attention.

So in order to attract the best of the unattached men, I definitely need this bastard stocking to get on my leg properly.

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