Wifes Wet Panties Novels & Stories

He exposed her black lace panties and the garter straps holding up her stockings. “Married women shouldn’t wear things like this to office hours,” he murmured, tracing the lace with one finger. “Unless they want to be fucked like the needy little slut they are.” “Ahh…” The soft moan escaped before she could stop it. He smacked her ass. “Louder. Let me hear you.” “Ahh… fuckkkk…” she gasped as he rubbed the sting away. He hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down slowly, letting them catch on her thighs. She was soaked, dripping down her inner thighs.

She stood in her plain cotton panties, her nipples hard against the thin fabric. "Take everything off." The maid hooked her thumbs into her panties and pushed them down. She stepped out of them, completely naked now, her body trembling under the wife's gaze. "Kneel." The maid knelt beside the bed. The wife's legs opened wider, her cunt fully exposed, glistening and swollen. Her fingers were buried inside herself, pumping slowly. "Use your mouth. Now." The maid leaned forward, her face hovering inches from the wife's wet sex. She could smell her—musky, sweet, intoxicating. Her tongue touched the wife's clit, tentative at first.

She gasped, trying to cover herself, but he caught her wrists. "Don't. I want to see you." Her bra and panties were simple cotton.....nothing fancy....but the wet patch on her panties was unmistakable. "You got wet from sucking my dick," he said, sliding one hand down to cup her through the damp fabric. "Didn't you?" "I....I don't know....I couldn't help...."

A hug where both hips are sliding back and forth in a much-practiced rhythm. I reached down to remove her panties since that was our system. She would rarely remove them herself during sex. I don't know why that is. I think it was more defensible to her sense of good grooming if her husband removed them. She wasn't a bad girl that way, just a good girl who had unfortunately found herself in a situation with a rock hard dick that she would be forced to fuck. And the fact that she was dripping wet? Well, that was just her body protecting itself since that big dick was probably going to pound her hard.

Usually, he gets up first because he wants to hug his wife. Brian got up, his eyes darting around. There was no sign of his wife's whereabouts. The 35-year-old man walked toward the bathroom. Who knew his wife was there. "Azzura!" he called as he opened the bathroom door. Empty. Brian was wearing his t-shirt and underpants. He immediately left the room to find his wife's whereabouts. Last night, Brian felt that Azzura was about to say something. He could see that his wife had many secrets.

“Fuck… you’re already wet. I can smell it. Sweet little vanilla wife, dripping for the monster who used to be her husband.” His other hand slid down my side, claws lightly scraping over the silk until he reached the hem. He shoved it up without asking, exposing my bare pussy. I’d stopped wearing panties to bed months ago because he liked easy access. Two thick fingers dragged through my folds and came away glistening. “Look at this sloppy cunt,” he growled, holding his fingers up between us. The glow from his eyes made the wetness shine obscenely. “Still so pretty and pink. Still mine.”

Already aroused, that German voice in her head kicked Sabrina's libido up to a thirteen on a ten point scale. Her playmates in easy reach, she wiggled out of her jeans. She sighed, wondering how long the wet spot had been showing on her crotch. Hopefully she'd not been walking around with it at work. She mopped herself with her panties and tossed them in the hamper thinking she'd need to do the wash tomorrow because she was going through underwear at an alarming rate. She was still wet, because the panty bath hadn't done any good.

“You may move.” Her head appeared and while her face was flushed, I was sure it wasn’t simply embarrassment as her pupils were dilated and filled with need. I was looking at a highly aroused woman. “Take off your shorts, but keep your panties on.” Once they were on the floor along with her t-shirt, I said, “How wet are your panties, sub?” “Very wet, sir.”

My legs were slightly spread apart, and I could feel how wet my sex was. “En…Enzo…” His fingers wandered into my panties and made circles over my clit. I buried my face into his thigh to muffle the moans, while he chuckled. “So wet. It’s so beautiful.” Without warning, he grabbed my underwear and pulled. A sharp ripping sound echoed in the room. I didn’t have to see to know that one of my favourite pairs of panties was now in shreds and lying miserably on the floor somewhere. “Hey! That was my favourite pair!”

I opened a door in the closet built into the wall and took out a white T-shirt, in a pile where there should have been at least fifty more of the same, neatly, folded, and pressed. - Would... Would you have one of those panties I sent you back... To borrow? I looked at him, curious to know if he still had it. - I threw it away. - He said, while putting his arms under his head, comfortably. I sighed and went to get the wet panties when he said: - There's new panties here. You can choose color and size. I glared at him, furious. Should I be grateful? I was very jealous. A man with new panties stashed in his own room for emergencies? How many women frequented that shit?