The Bully Pt. 19

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.

"Fuck yeah, Lela," I grunted as I got balls-deep. "That feels so tight."

"Oh, you feel so good, Mark," Lela responded. "Give it to me, baby."

As I began to rock slowly in and out of her anal-passage, Lela began to taunt me, knowing full well that her provocative words would excite me and enhance my climax.

"Thank you so much for the new suit, baby," Lela began. "I have a couple of clients that are just going to love me in it. One guy in particular, who likes to show me off at the Hilton hotel bar before we fuck. I have a date with him on Saturday night. Although, I need some classier lingerie to pair with this Fendi design. Maybe a matching pink garter-belt, instead of this black one. And some pink silk stockings. Maybe we could take a few pictures of me wearing this later, and I will text my guy to see how he wants me to accessorize it."

I could feel my sap rising as the CumSlut talked about the inevitability of her getting fucked by another man wearing this exact suit. I loved this woman and she was my life-partner, but at this moment all I could think about was another guy owning her ass, for six hundred dollars per hour.

"I am close, Lela," I said, well aware that we had been coupled for less than five minutes, and she was a million miles away from her own release.

"Blow your load inside me then stud," Lela responded. "Let's completely drain those nuts of yours tonight."

A few seconds later, as Lela mentioned the name of another client who would "probably appreciate the classic lines of this suit," I felt my nuts constrict. Then, ever the escort, Lela took me over the edge with a few well-chosen final words.

"If Phil would ever date me somewhere other than the back seat of his Lexus, I would totally wear this for him," Lela whispered seductively as we made eye-contact in the mirror. "Your brother has great taste in design. And he loves expensive toys. Like me."

It was the combination of hearing my brother's name, and Lela referring to herself as an expensive toy that made me blow my load. I knew that they fucked regularly in his Lexus, even parking on my driveway in the middle of the night to have sex, and the thought of Phil paying to use my wife took me over the edge. With a guttural roar I grabbed Lela's hips and thrust deeply inside of her anus, as I emptied my swollen nuts. Lela locked eyes with me, and continued to taunt me.

"Maybe I should talk Phil into buying a minivan," Lela whispered. "The back seat of that LC500 is really cramped, even with the convertible top down," she added with a giggle.

By the time I had stopped ejaculating inside Lela's asshole, my mindset had flipped one hundred and eighty degrees. No longer interested in hearing about my wife's extra-curricular sexual activities, I tried to change the subject. Lela wasn't having any of it though, getting her jollies from emasculating me.

"Pull out very carefully, Mark," she taunted. "You are not wearing a condom and I don't want to have to dry-clean this suit before I wear it on Saturday night. I can't show up on a date with traces of your semen on the back of my skirt. Not all men are cuckolds, you know."

A little later that evening, after a nice meal and a couple of drinks, Lela and I fucked again. It was a much more vanilla encounter, with both of us naked on the living room floor in front of the roaring fireplace, in the missionary position. I lasted a little longer the second time, due to the alcohol and the less-sexualized environment. However, Lela genuinely enjoyed breaking me with her words, and she couldn't resist a few well-chosen taunts to get me off.

After I climaxed we stayed coupled, and I basked in my post-orgasmic bliss.

"Stay inside me, Mark," Lela whispered as I gathered my composure. "I like to hear a man's contented heavy breathing after he has blown his load deep inside me."

As I contemplated the phrasing of her remark, I wondered if Lela allowed all of her lovers to bare-back her, presumably after submitting to her STI battery. Once I had regained control of my breathing, we began to talk. I wasn't in any hurry to withdraw from her warm, tight pussy, and Lela seemed comfortable, so we remained coupled as we chatted. Finally, after several minutes of small talk, I articulated what was on my mind.

"I was wondering, Lela," I began hesitantly. "Would you consider not wearing that Fendi suit on Saturday night?"

"Are you getting jealous, Mark?" Lela teased. "Don't want the CumSlut to wear her new designer outfit on a date?"

The truth was that my concerns were not rooted in jealousy, but rather in the possibility that Samantha might see Lela wearing her easily-recognizable pink Fendi suit. Lela's paramours enjoyed parading the CumSlut around in the bars of the Hilton and other high-end hotels in our small city. There weren't many luxury hotels in our area, and Samantha frequently dined with lawyers, district attorneys, potential clients, and even judges, in these select few bars and restaurants. How humiliating would it be for me if the two of them were to cross paths? Samantha dining with a successful business associate, while Lela sat at the bar all dolled up in Samantha's old Fendi suit, acting enraptured with her date, who was paying an hourly fee to completely dominate her.

"It has nothing to do with jealousy," I said candidly, electing to keep the real reason for my concern close to my chest. "It's just I bought that suit as a special gift for you, and I was hoping that we could have one outfit in your closet that is reserved for my eyes only."

"How cute," Lela said in a patronizing tone. "Mark gets one special outfit that remains unsullied by other men. You had that years ago when John bought me those unflattering Walmart sweats. You were the only man who ever saw me in those ill-fitting generic cotton pants," she added with a laugh. "Trust me on that."

"I am being serious, Lela," I said with a little more confidence. "One special outfit just between you and I."

"Like Tim and my Cheerleader Uniform," Lela blurted out, the alcohol reducing her inhibitions and causing her to fail to censor her words.

"Tim?" I asked quizzically. "Cheerleader Uniform? You lost me Lela."

I had never been in a functional, committed, monogamous relationship where both partners were equal, so I hadn't experienced the respectful dialogue that exists between two people in a normal couple. Both Lela and Samantha had always told me exactly the way things were, in an uncensored manner, leaving me to deal with my feelings as I processed the information that they had just divulged. Tonight was to be no different, and as I lay on top of my wife, my cock slowly becoming flaccid inside her, she dropped the bombshell with no attempt to soften the blow.

"Tim has my High School Cheerleading Uniform," Lela began impassively. "Tim Jacobsen. When we were going to school together he had a major crush on me, and even asked me out several times while you and I were a couple. I really didn't give him the time of day, especially as he was one of your best friends back then."

"My best friend, Lela," I said quietly. "Tim Jacobsen was my best friend in High School."

"Well, Mark," Lela continued coldly. "Your best friend hit on me constantly in High School, and told me repeatedly that he jerked off to the image of me in my Cheerleading Uniform. I was quite flattered actually, if you must know," she added, looking me right in the eye to gauge my reaction. "I even sent him a couple of selfies of me wearing it, for his spank bank."

"Lela," I groaned reflexively. "For fuck's sake, he was my best friend."

"A couple of innocent selfies are the least of your worries when it comes to Tim Jacobsen," Lela said with a giggle. "After I got hired by the Escort Agency I reached out to everyone who we went to High School with, and, as you know Tim responded immediately."

"I know, I know," I said impatiently. "You guys fucked twice in an hour the same day that you informed him of your new vocation. Why the fuck does Tim Jacobsen have your Cheerleading Uniform, Lela?"

"Well," Lela began in a coquettish manner. "From day one my encounters with Tim were centered around me wearing my Cheerleading Uniform. It was his thing. His fantasy fulfilled. Tim would get so excited that he got to fuck his dream girl dressed that way, and he often ejaculated inside me as soon as he got balls-deep. I tried to prolong the experience for him, as it felt disingenuous to charge him four hundred dollars for five minutes work. I would dance for him, gyrating my hips in an overtly sexual manner, almost like twerking. Once he was erect I would masturbate for him, or ride the Sybian machine until he was ready to fuck."

"Why are you telling me this, Lela?" I cried out in anguish.

"You need to know the context of our hook-ups to fully understand why Tim Jacobsen has exclusive rights to my Cheerleading Uniform," Lela said without any shame or remorse. "Shut up and listen."

Conditioned by John to be obedient, I lowered my head in submission and my wife continued to educate me on the ins and outs of her relationship with Tim Jacobsen.

"After I increased my rate to six hundred dollars per hour Tim expected more from me," Lela began candidly. "I could see the lust in his eyes as he handed over the cash at the beginning of each session and the intensity increased almost immediately. In his first session at the new rate Tim wanted to give me a facial, something he had always been too polite to demand before. A couple of sessions later he wanted anal sex. The following week, bare-back anal sex. As Tim's demands continued to escalate, I slipped into my submissive mode, which allowed me to agree to his ever-increasing perversions without any guilt."

"Jesus, Lela," I whispered in frustration. "Increasing perversions? What the fuck?"

"As you know from personal experience, Mark," Lela continued, her eyes locked on mine, "I am not opposed to the occasional golden shower, but this humiliating act became Tim's obsession. Every time he hired me we followed a predictable, almost scripted format. I would dress up for him in my Cheerleading Uniform, dance and cavort for him to telegraph my availability, then suck him off until he blew his load all over my face. As Tim recuperated, I would mount the Sybian machine and masturbate for his visual pleasure, offering him all kinds of sexual delights once he was erect again. Predictably, under the extreme sexual provocation, it was inevitable that Tim would develop a second erection, and once he was hard I offered him my ass. Bare-back, of course. Once your best friend was balls-deep inside your girl, he became obsessed with our relationship."

"Obsessed with you and I?" I questioned, seeking clarification.

"Our relationship," Lela responded. "Well, more specifically our sexual history. Tim asked me if you had ever fucked me in my High School Cheerleading Uniform, on more than once occasion as he butt-fucked me."

My heart sank as I processed Lela's words. Truth be told, I had never enjoyed any sexual activity with Lela while she was dressed in her Cheerleading Uniform. In its infancy our relationship was very innocent, and the thought of even making out with Lela until she was appropriately attired never ever occurred to me. I knew what her response was going to be before she even verbalized it.

"Hell no, I told him," Lela said emphatically. "The only other man that has busted a nut in me, or on me, while I was wearing this uniform is John."

Hearing John's name was another kick in the nuts, but inexplicably I felt my cock stir as it rested, nestled comfortably inside Lela's pussy. Lela noticed it too, and seized on the opportunity to emasculate me.

"Tim asked me if you or John had ever given me a golden shower while I was wearing my Cheerleading Uniform," Lela said slowly, enjoying the control she had over me. "Once I told him no, this became his new perversion. From that day forward Tim would butt-fuck me bare-back and then urinate all over me as I knelt before him dressed in my Uniform."

"Nice recap, Lela," I hissed, angry at myself for reacting to this sordid tale by getting erect. "You still haven't explained why Tim has possession of your High School Cheerleading Uniform."

"Once again your cock betrays you, Mark," Lela mocked, as she placed one hand on my ass and encouraged me to rock back and forward inside her. "Let's fuck and then I will tell you all about it. Maybe you can last long enough for me to get some enjoyment this time."

I was fully erect now and unable to resist her advances. Seemingly on autopilot, I began to slowly fuck Lela in the missionary position. Lela wrapped both of her toned legs around my lower back, moved her lips to my ear and began to whisper seductively.