Cursing myself for getting into this fucked-up situation, I entered my bathroom to take a piss and couldn't help noticing Samantha's soiled panties on the countertop. I still had several hours until Lela was scheduled to return home, and as I fixated on the semen-stained crotch of my ex-girlfriend's expensive intimates, I felt my cock twitch.
I don't know quite what possessed me to retrieve the pink Fendi suit from its hiding place under our stairs. However, it was still in the dry-cleaning bag and I ended up removing the plastic protective cover and hanging the suit from the top of my bathroom door. The mere visual of that beautifully tailored, pink, silk suit made my cock stiffen, and I decided that the fantasy would be more complete if I could smell the scent of Samantha's intoxicating perfume. To this end, I sprayed the Fendi suit with a copious dose of the fragrance. Then I knelt before the scented garments, imagining that I was in submission to Samantha as I jerked off.
After I blew my final load of the day, I repackaged Samantha's Fendi suit in the see-through dry-cleaning bag and stowed it deep under the stairs.
Lela returned early the following morning, six thousand dollars richer from her overnight stay in the Hilton with her high-valued client. I knew nothing about this guy, but judging by the way Lela breezed cheerfully into our home, he wasn't much of a sadist. Lela was freshly showered too, which was a welcome change from the way that she returned home from her periodic rendezvous with John.
I don't know if it was Lela's sixth sense, or if she somehow detected the faint scent of another woman's perfume, but she was immediately on the case.
"Did you have company, Mark?" Lela began innocently enough. "I can smell perfume in the air."
In retrospect I should have had a well-rehearsed story all ready in case of this line of questioning. However, as Lela picked up the aroma, she simply followed her nose the way a bloodhound latches onto a scent. Lela went to my bathroom door next, sniffing frantically as she sought to discover the origin of the fragrance. Truth be told, I could barely smell anything, but Lela headed off down the long hallway, following my exact path of earlier.
My heart sank when Lela stopped at the door to the under-stairs cupboard. I knew that I was cold-busted and it would be a matter of seconds before my wife emerged with Samantha's scented Fendi suit. Sure enough, as I watched her stoop down and disappear into the abyss of the long, low-lying storage area, I began to rack my brains for an excuse.
"This is what I smell, Mark," Lela said, the relief palpable in her voice as she emerged holding the dry-cleaning bag. "Thank fuck for that. I thought that you had another woman over while I was gone."
"I bought that as a surprise for you, Lela," I lied, thinking on my feet. "The woman at the Fendi store was wearing some really nice fragrance and I asked her what it was. She ended up giving me a bottle that was almost empty, and I saved it for you to see if you like it."
"That is so sweet, Mark," Lela said excitedly. "You are too good to me. I am a little sore right now but maybe later this week I will model it for you. The perfume too if that is what you like."
I felt like I had dodged a bullet with my quick thinking, and as Lela went to hang Samantha's old Fendi suit in her closet, I let out a sigh of relief.
About a week later, when I got home from work, Lela greeted me at the door wearing that pink silk suit. As I crossed the threshold to our home, Lela extended her arms out to give me a hug, and as we embraced I inhaled the intoxicating scent of Samantha's perfume.
"Are you wearing that perfume that I brought home, baby?" I asked Lela with a smile, as my cock twitched in my pants.
"Just for you, Mark," she responded playfully. "I had the suit tailored too," she added, as she stepped back to allow me to check her out. "You like?"
As Lela rotated slowly I checked her out, inhaling deeply to maximize my exposure to her fragrance. Lela was wearing matching pink high-heeled stilettos, and black Cuban-heel stockings which looked way too slutty to be paired with the Fendi classic. As I looked at the exquisitely fabricated, pink, silk Fendi suit, I had to smile. I am sure that when Karl Lagerfeld designed this particular piece, it was probably a timeless classic, a combination of luxury, elegance and detailed craftsmanship. However, as Lela showcased it in its modified form, hem shortened several inches, bust-line taken in so that her pert breasts were forced skyward, and the seat of the skirt tapered to highlight Lela's ass, it seemed less about luxury and more about sex. As she continued to twirl for me, I could see the outline of her garter-belt under the too-tight skirt, and I mused that only the CumSlut could make a two thousand dollar suit look cheap.
That said, this particular suit brought back lots of memories for me. Samantha had been wearing it the night that John and I walked her to her Maserati, and I got treated to a glimpse of her garter-belt straps. Samantha modeled it for me the first time we hooked-up, on the day of our big Class Action Lawsuit victory over Persil. In fact, I had bent Samantha over her home-office desk and fucked her in it. Later on in our relationship I had forcibly sodomized Samantha as she wore that Fendi classic. That pink, silk suit stirred a lot of good memories up for me, and I wanted to make some more.
"I love it, Lela," I said enthusiastically. "You look so hot."
"Just the reaction I was hoping for, baby," Lela whispered seductively, as she moved into my personal space and gave my cock a tender squeeze.
"Oh, you do like," she teased. "I am not wearing any panties, Mark, if you want to bust a nut inside me before we eat."
And just like she always did, Lela got inside my head, broke down my defenses, rendering me incapable of thinking about anything other than getting my rocks off. I followed her as she walked down the hallway to our master bedroom, her pink heels clacking as we entered the tiled floor of the bathroom. Lela knew instinctively what I wanted, and as we approached the counter-top she hiked the hem of her skirt up a few inches, and parted her legs so that it stayed at the optimal length to facilitate rear-entry. Flashing me a grin in the mirror, Lela placed the palms of her hands flat on the marble, leaned forward slightly, and invited me to fuck her.
"Take it, Mark," Lela whispered. "Whatever you want. I lubricated my pussy and my ass. They're both yours."
I didn't need a second invitation, and was already lowering my pants and sidling up behind my wife. As I grabbed the tip of my cock I had already made the decision to butt-fuck Lela. It seemed only appropriate, seeing as how the last time I took Samantha in this Fendi suit had been anally. Now it was Lela's turn to get sodomized wearing Fendi.
Lela had done a great job of self-preparation, and I can only assume that she had been wearing a butt-plug earlier to facilitate my entry, as I slid right inside her well-greased anal-cavity.
