I met Annie 20 years ago. We were introduced by a friend, who worried that all work and no play would make me, Alex, a very dull boy. She thought the same about Annie, who was her university roommate.
Annie and I came from different backgrounds, but we were both nerds. She was the only daughter of a wealthy businessman and his wife. Me, I was the son of a bus driver and a school teacher, ordinary people. Annie was posh; I was common.
Both Annie and I concentrated on studies over social life during university. We both dated and fooled around a bit, but neither of us had fallen in love ... it would have meant less time in the library. After graduation, we both found jobs in London: Annie as an advertising copywriter and I as a junior manager in the then-newly established high-tech sector.
Annie and I immediately realised were just alike. We both worried about our jobs far too much. We both drank, but never to excess. We could dance, but not very well. Annie was good looking and had a trim figure with pleasingly large breasts, but you could hardly tell the way she dressed. She was a bit of a frump, opting for comfort or convenience over style. I didn't really care. I loved her and had found my partner for the rest of my life.
Within a year, we were married. Our honeymoon consisted of a three-night stay in Rome. We ate great food, drank fine wine and saw the sights. As newlyweds, we spent a disproportionate time screwing, although neither of us were -- how can I best say it -- sexually skilled. In other words, we really didn't know what we were doing in bed.
While in Rome, Annie and I decided that we should buy each other a gift that we could keep for the rest of our lives. While Annie's parents were loaded, we vowed that we would live on our salaries, so we could not afford much. I quickly picked out a pair of sterling silver cufflinks that I still wear today.
I also wanted to give Annie jewellery as I thought such a gift would endure. However, while browsing in a fancy women's shop, Annie spied a pair of leather trousers. They were beautiful, but very expensive. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my bride in those sexy trousers, but I couldn't because Annie had never worn anything like that before. When she emerged from the changing room, she looked better -- and so much sexier -- than I could have ever dreamed. We really couldn't afford them, but I still bought them on the spot.
That night, we went out for dinner and she wore the trousers topped by a thick jumper (a sweater to you Yankees) as it was chilly. She looked stunning, and she must have known it as her entire personality changed. She seemed more alive, sexier, almost carefree. At dinner, she whispered to me.
"I must confess that I am being a bit naughty tonight."
"How's that?" I asked.
"I got so excited about wearing my sexy new trousers that I forgot to put any underwear on."
For most women, this would be no big deal, but Annie often wore a bra to bed. We were in unchartered sexual territory. We finished our dinner, skipped dessert and rushed back to the hotel. I could not believe it when Annie began pulling her jumper off in the hallway before we reached our room. Once I unlocked the door, she knelt before me, unzipped my trousers and began slurping on my cock, dressed only in her leather trousers and high heels. She finally stopped, removed the trousers, pushed me on my back, planted her pussy firmly on my mouth and commanded: "Eat me!"
We sucked and licked each other to initial orgasms, and then fucked in every position we knew (which was not very many) and then discovered a few more. We overslept the next morning and missed our flight, which just fine with us. We went out for lunch (she wore the trousers again) and managed to begin making love early, so we could fuck for hours and still wake up in time for our rescheduled flight.
Over the years, Annie wore the trousers on special occasions, and the sight of them on her shapely ass always made my cock tingle. They weren't that tight -- the style at the time was snug in the rear but loose-fitting down the legs -- but she looked so goddamn sexy in them. We would unfailingly have great sex later that night.
However, time marched on. The trousers began to show signs of wear, and eventually she stopped wearing them. We continued to advance in our careers: Annie was now working at a top ad agency, and I had joined the UK branch of a leading software developer. We weren't rich, but we were very well off and bought a small house in Highgate, a posh section of London. We had our share of traumas, particularly when we found out that Annie could not have children. But, we loved each other so much, we always seemed to muddle through.
Sex was still not one of our priorities, especially after the leather trousers were retired. However, our sex life really began going downhill about a year ago, shortly before Annie suddenly quit her job to work as a freelance copywriter from home. I was pleased with her decision. She could be her own boss, she could work flexible hours and she no longer had to face a London rush-hour commute. Still, I noticed that she was growing more distant and I could not really figure out why.
Several weeks ago, we were shopping for a gift for Annie's 40th birthday. We were in an expensive women's shop, and Annie was trying on her normal style of clothing: comfortable, not very stylish and certainly not sexy. That's a shame, because Annie still has a great figure, a bit on the busty side with a great ass and shapely legs. Suddenly, I spotted a pair of leather trousers, beautifully made. I smiled as long-forgotten memories were released. In fitting with today's style, these trousers looked to be very tight-fitting; almost a cross between skinny jeans and leggings. While Annie seldom paid attention to styles, I could not help but notice that she has begun wearing much tighter jeans on weekends.
I decided not to mention the leather trousers that day, but several days later I returned to the shop and bought them, ignoring the fact they cost £700. It was a big gamble: I didn't know whether Annie would love them or hate them.
But, to my surprise, she said she loved the trousers and tried them on. Wow! They fit perfectly and not only moulded snugly to her ass, but clung to her lovely legs almost like a second skin. She looked just like Mrs. Peel out of 'The Avengers', but only sexier.
I could not wait until I could take Annie out for a special evening so she could wear the trousers, but for the next several weeks she came up with a variety of excuses not to wear them. One night she said it was too warm outside (even though it was winter and Annie was always cold, even in the summer months). Another evening, she said the restaurant was not fancy enough. And, of course, there was the plain old "I'm not in the mood tonight". I heard that a lot when it came to sex, and now the same applied to the trousers.
A week later, I came home from work on a Tuesday in a very good mood. The project on which my team had been working for the past several months had been extremely well-received by my bosses. The line of products that resulted from our work would make the company a lot of money, and I knew I would likely be in line for a promotion and a generous salary increase.
