Drenched Panties Novels & Stories

I know my panties must be wet, it has happened to me countless times, sometimes i even thought of how his huge dick will feel in my throat. I know am not supposed to have this feeling but i just can't help myself from admiring his figure. "he's just so perfect", i thought..i quickly said sorry and told him i brought his juice before leaving his room with my heart pounding in my chest and my pussy so wet that i can feel it dripping .

Then I knelt on the cracked paving stones, rolled up my sleeves, and started scrubbing with a heavy grunt. I was still washing when the back door creaked open. Avery sauntered over with a nasty little smile playing on her lips. She had a pair of black satin panties in her hand, and with a flick of her wrist she threw them. They landed on the heap of clothes. "Wash them," she ordered, then turned around immediately. I picked up the panties between my thumb and forefinger. The crotch was crusty with dried discharge. My stomach turned and burned at the same time.

But right now, all I can think of is getting fucked senseless because my pussy cannot hold back another second. I would rather die from shame than sexual frustration. Besides, his windows are tinted—he’d said it before. “You remember how, don’t you?” His voice was deeper, darker than usual. He was looking down at me, and I was on my knees in front of him, in the footwell. His eyes were glowing with amusement but his gaze was as dangerous as the thin, black lacy panties he had gifted me. The same panties I’ve been wearing since morning. Now, the fabric was completely soiled, every yarn and lace soaked with my cum, dripping down my thighs.

"God, yes, Zane." He doesn't wait. He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding down to the hem of the dress. He bunches the silk in his fists and drags it up, up past my thighs, until he reaches my panties. They’re a matching plum lace, and they’re completely soaked. The fabric is drenched with my wetness, clinging to the folds of my pussy. Zane let's out a low, guttural sound, something between a growl and a prayer. He doesn't take them off. Instead, he presses his face right into my crotch, inhaling the scent of my arousal.

CHAPTER 42. I reach for her panties, my fingers interlinking with the fabric, then I notice it wasn't worn properly—it’s twisted toward the back. My lips curve. “Tell me…” I start, voice dark, “how many times did he dive into this pussy that made you forget how to wear your panties?” She ignores it. I continue, pulling her panties down, and the real deal is in front of me. Swollen, pink, and glistening with wetness.

The skirt pools around your ankles like spilled ink. Panties last. They’re soaked through—crotch dark, clinging obscenely. Hook your thumbs in the sides. Drag them down inch by torturous inch. The wet fabric peels away from your folds with a soft, sucking sound. A fresh string of slick stretches between cotton and cunt before it snaps, landing cool on your inner thigh. You step free. Kick them aside. They land somewhere in the dark with a damp slap. Naked. Vulnerable. Turn around.

It dripped down, coating my cock, soaking her panties, slicking her thighs, pooling where our bodies met. She gasped, her legs shaking, her hands gripping my shoulders tighter. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her voice breaking, her eyes wide but dark with want. I smirked, guiding her hips, feeling the oil make everything slicker, messier. “Look at you,” I murmured, my voice rough. “Dripping like a fucking mess now.” I yanked her panties aside, the fabric tearing slightly, and felt her bare cunt, hot and soaked, sliding against my cock.

I leaned back against the closed door, heart pounding, clutching the fresh panties and tights like a lifeline, wondering what the hell I’d just walked into—and whether I was ever going to walk back out the same. I slipped out of my soaked tights and drenched panties, the cool air hitting my bare skin and making me shiver. God, I was drenched—completely soaked just from seeing him naked, from touching him, from watching him come undone under my hand. My body had betrayed me so thoroughly I could still feel the slickness between my thighs.

Never get enough of her. The panties stopped halfway down her thighs. A string of her arousal connected her core to the soaked fabric, glistening in the lamplight. "Dios," I breathed. "You're drenched for me, Fiera. So fucking perfect." I stripped off my shirt, then my jeans and boxers. My cock sprang free, heavy and aching. I've never had this much precum leaking at once. Tonight's load would come in fast and heavy. I wrapped one hand around myself and stroked once, hissing at the contact.

"Spread your legs. Now." I was a little offended but I obeyed. I hiked the silk up to my waist. He left my panties somewhere on the gallery floor. My pussy was swollen and red. And wet… too wet. White fluids mixed with my own clear juices were dripping onto the car seat. "God." Dante leaned forward and scanned the mess I was. "Look at you. You are ruined." It was humiliating. It was the most twisted turn-on I had ever felt. "Come here." He ordered.