Still can't believe it happened. Maybe if I describe exactly how it happened I'll be able to. So, here's how it happened.
Friday night, a few weeks ago, I'm out drinking in town with my girlfriend. She has a snazzy little dress on, generating buckets of male attention. There's one guy who seems especially smitten. He's sat on his own, a weedy-looking type, maybe about fifty, and he's having many a sneaky lech in her direction. 'Baby, you have a big fan over there, ' I tell her, grinning because it's quite funny. Emma is nineteen and gorgeous, whereas this guy ... well, c'mon, for fuck's sake. As if.
Emma receives the news with equanimity. My girlfriend is hot. She knows she has legions of 'fans' in here tonight. With the outfit she's wearing she'd be mortally offended if she didn't. She takes a look at where I'm subtly indicating. 'Who? The little guy in the corner?'
'That's the one.'
She makes a sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort.
He gets up and we see he's extremely short, not quite a dwarf or anything but a real shortcake, five foot nothing. He walks to the bar to get another beer. Correction: 'walks' doesn't quite cover it, his little legs kind of knock together and he has a limp, also lists way over to one side as he moves. Yep, this guy is really Mister Unfortunate. All very precarious, it seems to me, but he does just about manage to get to the bar and back. Emma looks amused. 'Where's his carer?' she jokes.
'Dunno, babe. But he's definitely checking you out. Doing it again now. Just can't seem to take his eyes off your legs.'
Emma lights a cigarette and laughs. 'I see.' She's in her element being lusted over by strangers. If steamy looks could kill, Em would have been long dead. My girlfriend angles towards her admirer and she slowly crosses and re-crosses her legs, lets her dress ride up an inch or so further, showing a little more of her luscious thighs. The guy drools at the sight, then looks quickly away, stares into his glass, embarrassed as he realises Em is watching him. She turns back to me, grinning. 'Well he can always look, Mark, can't he?'
'Yeah, at what he can't have. Must be great.'
She sniggers slightly, changes the subject, and we chat for a while. I'm feeling horny. The gimp in the corner isn't the only one thinking dirty thoughts about Emma, believe me. She's looking good enough to eat tonight and I want to be doing precisely that. I interrupt what she's saying (it's something about getting a new car) to tell her this, tell her how drop-dead, fucking gorgeous she is. It's perhaps the millionth time I've said it in the six months we've been going out. She can't suppress a smug 'yeah, I know' smile. There's a glint in her eye now. 'Hey, that little guy, you know... '
She nods. 'Him. Is he still eyeing me up?'
Understatement. The guy is transfixed and I tell her so. Emma flicks her hair and does the leg-crossing thing again, slips a shoe and dangles it from her foot, idly scratches an 'itch' on her thigh, just under her dress. 'And now?' she grins.
'He's fucking dribbling, ' I chuckle. 'You shouldn't tease the guy, Em. It's not fair. It's mean.'
She smirks. 'Guess he doesn't see much action, huh?'
'Think that's safe to say, Em, yes.'
Emma goes quiet as she finishes her drink. She looks thoughtful. 'You ok, babe?' I enquire.
'Yeah ... I was just thinking.' She has a sly smile on her face.
'Thinking what, babe?'
She leans in and tells me her little plan.
'You bitch, Em. But yeah, sure, why not. We've got your folk's place to ourselves, right?'
'All weekend, ' she giggles.
So we go join the guy at his table and introduce ourselves. Mark and Emma. Out for a good time tonight and great to meet him. 'Derek, ' he mumbles, confused at first but face now brightening up. He can hardly believe what's happening, me and this delicious young thing hooking up with him. Guy is obviously pretty lonely, used to being ignored and not much else. 'Derek!' I say, smiling and pumping his hand. 'That's a nice name, ' coos Emma, sitting herself in close. 'Get you another beer, Derek?' I ask. He nods, has this really grateful expression on his weak, ugly-mug face. 'What about you, Em?' I say, winking at her. Em winks back, a wicked smile playing on her full, pouty lips. 'Yes, another white wine please.'
When I return with the drinks, Em has moved even closer to Derek and she's being all teasy and flirty with him. He's trying manfully not to stare at her legs, I notice, which she's making difficult with how she's sitting. Yeah, she's giving the poor guy quite an eyeful. 'Cheers, Derek!' I say, lifting my glass, and Emma echoes it.
'Ch-Cheers, ' Derek stammers. Silly sod is rather overwhelmed by the whole thing.
We sip our drinks and get very cosy and familiar with the guy. Car accident, he tells us, a few years back. Legs messed up but they still just about work. Wife has left him, no kids, no job, lives alone. Takes care of himself, he's determined to stay independent, but it's not easy, he says. It's a real fucking sob story, indeed he does get slightly tearful as he relates it. We commiserate and cheer him up. I call him 'mate' and 'Degsy', stuff like that, and Emma flirts like crazy, making out that she fancies the pants off him. She plays with her hair, smiles into his eyes, has her hand resting lightly on his arm, starts calling him 'sweetie', really gives him the treatment. She teases mercilessly with her legs, flaunting them at the poor guy. Derek tries not to leer but he can't help it. 'It's ok, sweetie, you can look, ' smiles Emma, eventually. 'I like dishy older men staring at my legs.' She's a scream, my girlfriend, she really is.
Emma excuses herself for the bathroom ('Back in a minute, boys, ' she pouts) and once she's disappeared I grin suggestively at our new friend. 'Hey, Degsy, wanna come back to our place?' He's not sure how to respond. 'Yeah, c'mon, ' I press. 'Em's really into you, it's obvious, and I don't mind.'
'Really?' says Derek, looking rather sheepish.
I shrug. 'Whatever makes her happy ... You know what I mean?'
Derek blushes and nods.
Emma returns and I inform her that Derek's coming home with us. 'Oh Derek, sweetie, that's great!' she erupts, smiling seductively, gazing at this gimp as if he's the man of her dreams.
We drink and chat a while longer. Derek, nervous and hot to trot, rather gulps the rest of his beer, but me and Emma take our time. Emma is interested in precisely how screwed up his legs are. Can he walk ok? Yes, he tells her. Just not very fast and not very far. Does he have a car? No, he can't afford one. He's stony broke. He can make the rent, eat, a few beers on a Friday, that's it. Doesn't even have a phone. Em is massively sympathetic. She tells him he's living for a year on what she spends every week just on clothes. This is true enough. Em's the only child of stinking rich parents and 'Daddy' spoils her rotten, funds eye-watering amounts on her charge card, no questions asked. Whatever his beautiful darling daughter wants, she gets. She's got it made, Emma has. 'Must be so tough for you, poor thing, ' she says, her hand falling to Derek's knee, squeezing it. Derek shrugs, says he gets by. 'So brave, as well as handsome, ' coos Emma, and Derek shrugs again, smiling bashfully, chest swelling. Me, I'm just creasing inside by now, at how she's toying with this hapless character. Em slides her hand up his skinny thigh, comes to a halt about a centimetre from his groin. She's leant right forward, doing this, and what that means for Degsy is he not only has her fingers almost brushing his cock, he's also getting a glimpse of paradise down the top of her dress. The view down there, a pair of sumptuous breasts nestling in the skimpiest of white lace bras, is enough to drive any man wild, trust me, so you can imagine the effect on poor old Derek. He'll be messing his pants, by the looks of him, if Em carries on like this much longer. She's giving him a saucy and meaningful grin, letting him know that she knows exactly what she's doing and that she's enjoying his arousal. 'Anyway, enough of all this, your gammy legs and stuff, you're fine to ... you know ... you can make love to a girl, sweetie, can't you?'
'Definitely, Emma!' he blurts. Oh man.
'Been a while though, mate, I suppose?' I chip in.
Derek grins ruefully. 'Yeah, sure has.'
I take a final swig and slam my glass down on the table. 'So, people, what are we waiting for? ... Let's go!'
He needs a pee first and so do I. We go to the gents and Derek makes for a cubicle. 'Need any help, mate?' I enquire.
'Nah, Mark, I'm fine, ' he says, ashamed that I've asked. 'You sure?' I prod, smiling down at the sad little cunt, relishing the difference. He shakes his head. 'Well ok, just shout if you do, ' I say, like he's a small boy. He hated that, I can tell.
I finish up and rejoin my girlfriend. 'Is he ok?' she giggles.
'Just about. God, Em, did you see the way he was slobbering at your tits. Bet the poor bastard hasn't had any in years.'
Emma tries to reply but can't, she's having a major fit of the funnies. 'Pull yourself together, babe, ' I warn. 'He'll be back in a minute.' She does, thankfully, because here he comes, old Degsy, gimping doggedly back to our table. It's quite an entertaining spectacle. 'Oh jesus, ' Emma sniggers softly. A few of the other drinkers are looking and smirking, I notice, wondering what the hell me and Em are playing at, linking up with this pathetic old geezer. Just as well they don't know, I tell myself. Am I ok with it? Fuck, yes. Emma's idea, admittedly, but I'm getting off on the scenario, it's giving me quite a hard-on.
.... There is more of this story ...