Cleaning up

Realisation of what had just occurred came gradually to Mark, his drunken, lustful state making it difficult to process. His mind wandered back to visions of Angela's dripping womanhood, the taste, the smell of her and he felt his spent cock stir slightly, reminding him of his task.

He kicked off his shoes and after removing his phone, wallet and keys, Mark pulled off his pants and briefs in one go, both garments a soggy mess that reeked of semen. He tossed them into the washing basket, then remembering the underwear that started all this he found them on the floor and dutifully returned them to the basket as well. He then wet the wash cloth in warm water and began to clean himself off, starting with his face. Angela's scent remained a constant in his thoughts and no amount of scrubbing seemed to cleanse it from him so he soon moved on to his crotch, wiping the drying cum from himself carefully.

It was then Angela returned, the bathroom door swinging open as she swept in carrying a dark pair of pants for Mark. Her lips twisted into a smirk as she spotted him, naked from the waist down except for his socks, wiping off his spent cock and balls. Mark was uncut and average sized, but now, in the aftermath of his release he looked tiny. He flinched when she entered, quickly swapping the wash cloth with the towel, covering his shame as he dried himself off.

"Such a good boy." she cooed, sending a shiver through Mark. "Here..." she said tossing him the pants which he caught then inspected dubiously. They were black and made out of firm, stretchy material which Mark eventually recognised as workout gear, more specifically as ladies yoga pants. He looked at her with a frown but Angela simply clucked her tongue at him. "Now, now... there's no use pouting, that's all there is. Now pop them on and you can get home to bed. You will collect your clean clothes tomorrow." she asserted firmly.

Mark hung his head turning away from Angela as he stepped into each leg of the tight, stocking-like pants and pulled them up before turning back to her. His cheeks were bright red - he knew he looked ridiculous, the elastic material clinging tight to his body, his flaccid cock barely causing a bulge at the front in its sated state. Angela's eyes gleamed as she grinned at him, stepping out of the bathroom and ushering him out. "Come come, time to go. It's getting late and Miss Angela..." she drew out the words mockingly, causing Mark to wince, "needs her rest."

Mark quickly slipped on his shoes and scooped up his belongings before being harried towards the door. He glanced at the dog as he passed, the obedient pet still sitting in its place he noted before the front door swung open and he stepped out into the stairwell. "See you tomorrow." Angela hissed under her breath, smirking. Mark quickly nodded a silent response then dashed up the stairs as fast as he could before someone might see him.

Once safely inside his own apartment Mark breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He threw his belongings down on the table and paced about as he played the encounter over and over in his mind. Had he just cheated on his wife? She would certainly leave him if she ever found out. Was he just raped, or at least sexually assaulted? Maybe, but why had he gone along with it? Why had he enjoyed it so much?

After a while Mark realised he was still wearing Angela's gym pants and had been pacing in them all this time. His reminiscing over the encounter had partially revived his cock and he couldn't help but notice how good it felt as he stroked himself through the material. Suddenly he felt the need for release, thoughts of Angela running through his mind as he considered wearing her leggings to bed and masturbating furiously. No, he thought to himself... he had to snap out of it. To forget about her and try to put tonight behind him. Yet still, part of his brain was nagging at him, telling him to slip between the sheets in nothing but the tights and drift off into wonderous dreams of his alluring, older neighbour.