My Panties Are So Wet Novels & Stories

Certainly, I wasn't under the drugs anymore. But why was Dane's presence having this much control over my body? It was embarrassing. My breath came in quick spurts as I pulled down my trousers. My fingers fumbling as I shifted my panties to the side. Fucking hell! My entire panties had been soaked. Wet, warm and slimy. My fingers grazed through the wetness. I moaned silently, biting my bottom lip. Fragments of images flashed through my mind. Images of Dane's hands rubbing my clit.

I want to see how wet you are. I reached down, my fingers trembling as I gripped the hem of the white dress. Slowly, agonizingly, I hiked it up, exposing my bare hips and the damp, glistening slit of my pussy. I wasn't wearing any panties... I never did for Big Daddy. I reached down, sliding two fingers into my folds, the wetness making a loud, squelching sound that echoed through the stream. "Mmmph... I'm so soaked," I moaned, my hips beginning to buck instinctively. "I've been thinking about you all day, Big Daddy. I'm such a mess for you."

It’s all I can think of – its all I want, and all I could ever want. I am on my knees now – all caution and propriety are vanished. With both hands, I part her thighs and begin to lick up the track of the little brown stream on her right thigh. I am inching my way towards her panties and the forbidden treasures they hold. Her shit is thicker now, hotter, stronger and more arousing. I have hiked her dress up to her waist, exposing her beige cotton panties. My eyes are met with an indescribably perverse sight. Her lovely panties are bulging with her hot soft shit. It is seeping out of the right leg-hole, staining her cotton crotch a wet brownish yellow.

Good, Cause I’m still feeling a tingling sensation between my thighs and need to help myself cause there is no one to take care of it for me. I look around once more, listening to make sure that I’m all alone, then I pushed the bed covers off my body. I raise my nightgown up and slip a finger into my panties, biting my lips in the process. Immediately my finger slipped in, the tingling feeling down there turned to flames as my body fires up with the heat. I threw my head back, rubbing my nub with one finger, and my panties gradually got soaked with my juices, making it easier for me to slip one finger into my pussy, since I’m already so wet.

Moaned again. Her fingers slid down, over her soaked panties. She rubbed in slow circles over her clit, moaning louder, lips parting. One hand kept playing with her nipples while the other worked her throbbing pussy. The orgasm snuck up on her—small but delicious. Her body quivered, and her panties clung to her folds like a second skin. She couldn't resist anymore. She ripped the panties off, dipped her fingers into her dripping cunt, and gasped. “Shit… so wet…”

She could feel herself growing wetter with each passing second, her arousal soaking through her panties. She spread her legs wider, silently begging for his touch. The tension coiled in her body was unbearable, a spring wound so tight it threatened to snap. She knew that even the briefest contact with her clit would shatter her completely. Her panties were already soaked, clinging to her swollen flesh, the evidence of her desperate arousal.

The wet spot on my panties is obvious now. “You need this so badly,” Vanessa purrs, voice thick with satisfaction. “Look at you, already falling apart for us on your first day. Such a needy little housewife.” The words should humiliate me. Instead they make me throb harder. They keep touching me—fingers circling my clit over my panties, mouths and hands on my tits, whispers of how pretty I am, how wet, how perfect for them—until I’m trembling on the edge, right there in my own living room in the middle of the afternoon.

Not like this. But I did. I leaned back, one leg propped on the cushion, the other planted on the floor. My pleated mini skirt rode up easily as I slid my hand beneath it. The white cotton panties were already damp. I pushed them aside with trembling fingers and dragged two through my slick folds, gasping at how sensitive I was. “Lucien…” The name slipped out in a whisper.

I need it so bad I can’t even get a full breath of air. I reach down and push my skirt higher, my hands fumbling with the leather. My fingers are trembling as I slide my panties to the side. My skin feels so sensitive that even the light touch makes me jump. The second my fingers touch my center, I let out a long, broken moan that turns into a sob. I’m a mess. I’m so wet that my fingers slide easily over my swollen, aching lips.

I’d caught the faint outline of his cock and had to look away before my face turned scarlet. “God, I’m pathetic,” I whispered to the empty room, but there was no real shame in it. Just hunger. I shoved the jeans down my hips in one impatient motion, kicking them off along with my socks. My panties were simple black cotton, already soaked—clung to my shaved pussy. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and peeled them away, letting the cool air hit my slick folds. A soft gasp escaped through my lips. I was wet. Embarrassingly wet. The kind of wet that made my thighs slide together when I walked.