Joe Dressed Down

While Jennifer and the girls cleaned up after dinner, Joe slipped away to the master bedroom to get changed out of his work clothes and into something more relaxing, something he could enjoy himself in while spending the evening with is family.

Running for the Senate was hard work, and you always had to look professional when in public. Not that that was a challenge for Joe. All of his clothes were professional. Inspecting his reflection in the mirror on the back of his closet door, Joe confirmed the thought. The tight, low-cut, red dress was the image of professionalism. The way it contoured every curve in his body, the way it barely covered his ass cheeks, the way it so clearly showed the outline of his penis in the front, even the way his breasts practically spilled out of the top, it was as if he was born to be a Senator.

Sometimes, though, Joe wondered if it all looked too perfect. Reaching behind him and unzipping his dress, his mind wandered to a conversation he'd had with his election committee the day before. They had insisted that he was perfect, that anyone in their right mind would see him as the kind of man they wanted to represent them, that his look, his public persona, his entire package was built for politics. Joe had argued that maybe he was too perfect, that people might dismiss him as a cardboard cutout of a candidate. Maybe he should do something out of the ordinary to differentiate himself from the rest of the people in the field.

Of course, the entire team had laughed at the suggestion. Joe's opponent, a three-term, sixty-year-old Republican had been caught cheating on his wife with one of his staffers, and was suspected to be siphoning funds out of the state coffers and into his beach home in Grand Cayman. What the voters needed was an All-American guy-next-door, someone who you could trust, someone that embodied old-fashioned values and progressive new ideas all at the same time. Joe was that guy. It was a no-brainer.

Placing his red dress and panties in the laundry hamper and crossed to his dresser. Opening the top drawer, Joe's puffy lips curled into a smile seeing exactly what he was looking for. The pink and black panties, and the pink and black see-through chemise he had purchased just that week. When he had seen them in the store, the lace trim and satin bows were what had drawn his eyes. It was exactly the kind of outfit he loved to wear around the house, something informal, a knock-about outfit that he didn't mind getting dirty in case his wife asked him to do yard-work, or fix a leak. Something that reminded Joe that, while he presented himself to the world as a leader, as someone who was slick and accomplished, at home he was just a regular guy.

The panties were a perfect fit, which Joe had worried about at the store. The g-string in the back slid nicely in-between his smooth butt cheeks, while his penis fit snugly in the pouch out front. Then he slipped the chemise over his head and down over his body. His nipples stood out proudly, creating lovely texture through the smooth, see-through material. His thin waist, his wide hips, how had the manufacturers known how to create an outfit so perfectly made for his body, Joe would never know. It always seemed to go that way for him. No matter what he wanted to wear, Joe was always able to find the perfect fit. He must be a lucky guy, he guessed.

After touching up his lipstick and leaving a kiss-mark on the mirror for his wife to find later, Joe stepped into a pair of clear platform shoes, his favourites, the ones with the five inch heel and pink maribou trim (which would go nicely with his new outfit), and wiggled out of the bedroom. While he liked to admire himself, the girls had suggested playing games that night, and he was in the mood for some fun.