Jordan slipped quietly out of bed. It was much too early to wake Samantha, and he was going to do his best to go about his morning routine and catch his 6 a.m. train without her even knowing he was gone - short of the love note he'd leave rolled in the handle of her coffee mug.
He collected his charcoal-gray suit, a crisp white dress shirt, his cuff-links and a silk tie, then took a pair of argyle socks from the top bureau drawer and went downstairs. He would shower, shave and dress in the guest room; less chance of waking her there.
It had been torture leaving the warm bed on this dark morning. Sam's long, thin cotton T-shirt had gathered almost around her waist, and when Jordan rolled gently over, naked and spooning into her to kill the alarm on her night-table, he felt the heat of her soft ass nestle into his groin. But he slipped quickly from beneath the covers, yearning to relieve his growing erection yet aware that she needed her sleep more than the predawn mischief he had in mind.
Their sex life was exhilarating, a little unconventional, pushing their own boundaries within the safety of their love. They relished every session; teased each other in public with a stroked hand here, a daring word there. Their anticipation was fever-pitched by the time they got home. Sam would dip her tongue into Jordan's mouth, and Jordan would dip his cock into Sam, impaling her for their great, mutual pleasure.
He stood in the shower, the mist providing a welcome massage, and he smiled at the morning picture in his mind's eye - in fact, she wore to bed wearing one of his T-shirts, one that seemed to have found its way into her bureau months ago. He knew he'd never see it again, except on her.
Jordan tousled his dark, wavy hair dry, then began to thumb through the half-dozen pairs of his silk boxers that were on a chair in the corner. Sam had reminded him they were there, just before their sex-spent bodies yielded to a heavy sleep.
He liked the burgundy pair, and tossed them from his left hand to his right. As they passed in front of him he caught a curious, unmistakable scent - it was Sam. He drew the silk to his face and inhaled deeply. Sam's fragrant pussy filled his senses, and arousal overtook his curiosity in one deep breath.
He wondered: had he worn these boxers after lovemaking, and her scent had merely been transferred from him? So he picked up a hunter-green pair and brought them closer. Sam. Then the navy. Sam. And the blood red. Sam.
My God, Jordan thought. While I am at work, while Sam is in her home office downstairs, she is wearing MY silk boxers, and she is getting herself VERY aroused while doing so. He was euphoric; this was not a hint of her womanly scent that Jordan was inhaling. It was strong, powerful, a scent of pussy juice that flowed from her body freely, plentifully.
