8 comments/ 13535 views/ 12 favorites Melissa's Panties By: away443 My life was miserably boring. From early morning to late night I'd work and come home to my boring wife and then there'd be more work to do. She just gave up on life after our second kid. She gained weight, stopped caring about her looks and became completely uninterested in sex. This had been going on gradually for years and these days she just wore stretch pants and baggy t-shirts. It made me feel more miserable to come home and see her. The very moment I'd open the door, I'd cringe inwardly. Today she was eating popcorn and watching some show on the TV. Without looking at me she asked, "What's for dinner?" My wife had no job. The kids were at school all day, and when I'd get home, she expected me to secure dinner. After awhile, I quit encouraging her to get a job or socialize or get a hobby, or dress nicer. Maybe it was my fault. I was a geek. Clean but plain, and I probably drove her to boredom and the cycle just spiralled out of control. "Grilled burgers again?" she asked, annoyed. Thing is, I really like sex and sexy women. Their makeup excites me. If they take time to do their hair, it means something to me. I love them in their business skirts, in their low-cut blouses, in their high-heeled shoes, in their snug pantyhose. It's not that I was a fetishist, but more plain my wife looked, more drawn I became toward sophistication and complexity of women's attires. You could see time and effort they spent on their looks and I was instantly appreciative of it. Almost admiring. They were complete opposites of my lazy wife. Every woman at the office wore something ultra-modern and sexy these days. Partly conservative, but always sexy. Skirts and nylons and god knows what kind of underwear. It felt as if women were almost teasing me purposely, knowing all I get at home is stretch pants with potato chip crusts. Of course, it was all in my head, but my eyes went straight to their asses. To their cleavages. To the gaps between their thighs. To their bra straps. I hoped they didn't notice me staring. Over time I became more and more sexually frustrated. It's not like I could cheat on my wife, but she wasn't putting out and on a rare occasion that she did, it was pathetic because her heart wasn't into it, and she wasn't making herself look attractive to me. It felt like I needed some kind of escape, even a brief temporary one. One day an attractive coworker of mine asked me if I could look at her washing machine. Everyone knew I was handy with machines. She was just beautiful, tall with straight black hair, always made up and dressed to a 10. God, I'd do anything for her. What she really wanted me to do was justify giving up on the machine, and then offer to take it away in our family minivan, since she drove a tiny sports car. Either way I was secretly glad to not go straight home so I cheerfully replied, "Sure Mel, be happy to look at it." "Thanks, you're a real sweetheart!" she said and touched my back with a sign of care. Once I got to her condo, she led me to the laundry room and muttered something about the machine leaking. I texted my wife earlier to let her know I'd be helping a coworker with this, but didn't tell her it was a woman. Despite being uninterested in me, my wife was interested in other women not being interested in me. Because women are weird. Melissa asked, "Do you need anything from me?" I shook my head, and said, "This might take an hour or so, but I have all the tools with me." She thanked me and went to change and catch up to some bills, leaving me alone. Her machine was older and, yeah, it looked like it was leaking. Not being a complete idiot, I unplugged it and started removing the side cover. It was stubborn, but these things are built simple. By the time everything was off, I could see the leak right where the tub seal hit the transmission shaft. Thankfully, it was still wet so I knew that was the problem. I've done this kind of repair before and it was always remarkable that a $2 part could cause so much trouble. The seal had to be replaced. Happy the issue wasn't so complex, I yelled through the door. She was in the kitchen now, making dinner. "Hey Mel, think I found your problem. We can probably fix this tonight, if you're okay with taking a chance. The o-ring is bad but it's an older machine, so we can just seal it with silicone. Normally you'd get a replacement part, but it takes time to get that over here. And your machine is older so makes sense to just seal it and use it until it dies." She walked back in the laundry room and said, "What? I didn't hear you." She then dumped her laundry hamper on top of the dryer. Jesus. Not wanting to repeat myself, I just took options away from her. "We can fix this tonight," I said with a touch of fake confidence. "That's great!" she smiled at me, adding, "Do you need me to go get anything?" She was gorgeous, even in jeans and a shirt. For a second I thought about it and replied, "Nah, think I got everything I need." "That's so awesome, thanks so much. Guess I'll go finish up making dinner." She ran her fingers through her hair and looked beautiful doing it. "Will you let me know if you need anything?" she asked and smiled so much it melted my heart. While she didn't care about the complexity of this problem, she was at least thoughtful enough to ask about helping. I declined and set to work. I opened the top cover and realized that her unwashed laundry was already loaded, so I just went ahead and picked big chunks of it and added them to the dryer pile. The softener cap came right off, and then the agitator mounting ring, but the god-damned shaft was frozen. For a few minutes I grunted and applied all my strength to unscrewing it, but nothing happened. She came back to check on me so I told her about the frozen shaft. "Think we can still fix this tonight, if you go get me some penetrating oil from a store," I offered. Her smile was contagious. She was such a happy person and she chirped, "Awesome, I'll go get it right now." She had me write down exactly what she needed to get and then went to a nearby hardware store. She turned off the stove and left her condo, and I tried to unscrew the shaft again after her front door shut closed. Couple of tries later and using my whole body for leverage, all I managed to do was knock some of her laundry off the dryer and bruise my knuckles. While I was picking it up, I realized some of her clothes were of the intimate kind, and it gave me chills. This was a new experience for me. I was in a woman's house, alone, literally digging through her dirty laundry. It gave me a weird sense of power over a woman's secret. Over her private parts she keeps guarded. I now knew what she wore under her skirts, and oh god, some of it was just downright sexy. There were a pair of panties that stood out, a dark gray bikini bottom with some sort of pink decorative laces in the front. It was not the kind of underwear I imagined women wore going to the store. Singling them out, I picked them up with both hands and stretched them into a shape I thought they assumed while being worn. Oh my god, this was real. In my hands I held panties that she recently wore. I turned them around and noticed that back of them was black nylon. It was the most sophisticated pair of panties I've ever seen, or held in my hands anyway. It didn't feel right that I was looking at them like this, or that I got an erection from it. This moment felt so exciting. Something possessed me and I had to do it. I sniffed them. I brought them right up to my nose and sniffed the crotch area. Fuck me, I could smell her pussy on it. It was so faint, but just so unique and recognizable at the same time. All woman. And the woman who wore these was hot as shit. Feeling exhilarated, I wondered if she had a matching bra she wore with these, so I dug through the pile and found it, picking it up with my other hand. The bra was made of firmer material but it was really hot to know her bare breasts touched them. Feeling completely out of my mind, I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out. Holding her bra in one hand, I put my cock against it and rubbed it in. In my mind, I imagined my cock touching the soft flesh of her breasts and it got me more excited. It also felt good, the material was silky and this was all so horribly inappropriate. Interested in her panties again, I hung up her bra over my dick and stretched her panties with my hands, holding them so my cock was pressing against their back. In my mind, I imagined pressing my cock against Melissa's ass while she wore these. Dear god, it felt so great. The nylon was so soft against my skin and I felt a sick, pitiful connection to her, a kind that I hadn't shared with anyone before. For a minute I rubbed them up and down my cock and then realized I was leaking precum, staining them. Worried that she'd find out later, I stuck my dick in them through the top opening and pressed it against her crotch area, which was padded with a thicker material. It was crazy that I was doing this on so many levels, from violating her privacy to sexually molesting her clothes. Not to mention pressing my bare cock against what had some of her pussy juices on it. It was unsafe, unhealthy, and ... just so exciting. And oh god, I wanted to hold my hands around her hips and kiss her from behind. Stroking my cock with her panties, I wanted her to want me, to keep me there at her place and not let me go home, to model her lingerie for me. I didn't want reality. I was so pathetic. Just then I heard her door open and panicked. The fear and partial excitement of being caught abusing her trust and violating her privacy set me over the edge. Without being able to stop anything, my cock spewed out a glob of cum over the crotch of her panties as I scrambled to hide it all. I didn't orgasm, but came pretty close. In that split second, I wasn't sure what to do first. Zip myself up, or stash the panties? Wipe my cock off with them first, or try to find something else to wipe it off with? Or jack it a few times and finish cumming on them and then deal with the problem? With the sound of her footsteps, there was no time to think. I punched her panties and bra into the middle of her laundry pile, then zipped up quickly. Just as she walked in the room, my fingers came off my zipper and I immediately dropped down to pick up a rag from my toolbox. Hopefully that looked like my moves were deliberate, so I could wipe my hands off and not look suspicious. What did she know about machines anyway? I could have gotten some grease on my hands. She was silent for a moment and I thought I fucked up and wasn't fast enough. But then she handed me a can of WD-40 and said, "Here, the guy said this was just as good." I sighed in relief and she interpreted that as a failure on her part. She defended herself by saying, "Sorry, they didn't have the exact stuff you wanted." "No, this will work fine, thank you for getting it." I turned away and started working on the machine again, too scared to meet her eyes. "Guess I'll get back to making my dinner," she said but didn't walk away. For some reason, she was sticking around. This was not a good sign. Before she went out, she wasn't interested in any of the work. Now, something made her linger. She looked unhappy. Still in my fight-or-flight mode, I thought to scare her off with some loud noises so I sprayed the shaft and started hammering it for no reason. It was a big solid piece of metal, and could take the punishment. Better yet, it worked, she walked off and went back to the kitchen. There was absolutely no hammering needed. All I had to do was wait for the WD-40 to break through some of the rust, and then I could keep going. Ten minutes later, the shaft nut came off and I could get at the O-ring. Damned piece of crap had disintegrated and was passing water through. Needing to clean the housing, I headed to the kitchen to get some paper towels. Making like I was going to grab the entire roll, I asked out of sake of being polite, "Mind if I grab it?" She nodded, but wasn't smiling anymore. That was trouble. Something had made her unsettled, and I had a pretty good idea of what that something was. I cringed inwardly and ran off to keep doing the work. Shit. I was sure she didn't see me, but she was acting so suspicious. Focusing on the machine, I caulked the shit out of the O-ring housing and put it back together. So long as she didn't use the machine for a few days, it'd seal nicely and stop leaking. It would last another ten years. With my toolbox in hand, I walked out and stopped to say goodbye. Motioning toward the laundry room, I scrambled to say anything meaningful to test her mood. Instead, I gave her a guilty-sounding, "Should be done Mel." She nodded slowly, but still wasn't smiling. Fuck. I kept going, "The only thing you have to do is not use it for about two days. At least one, like 24 hours. The silicone is now partly obstructed so it'll take time for it to cure. To dry, y'know." She nodded. She was way too quiet from her usual self and that made me very worried. After a moment, she finally said a whole sentence. "Thanks, I really appreciate you fixing it." Turning red, I mumbled a don't mention it and walked out sweating into the night. Even if she saw me, which I swear she didn't, she didn't say anything about it to my face. Maybe the danger passed, because cops could have gotten involved in something like this. What the fuck was I thinking earlier? My impulse could have gotten me into so much trouble. At work, at home, legal. Fuck, she definitely could have called the cops if she saw me expose myself in her home. My phone rang. Shit. Maybe she did call the cops and waited for me to leave first. Luckily, it was just my horrid wife who immediately started whining about food. "It's late. Are you going to grab dinner on your way home?" At this point, I didn't even get mad that she was a lazy piece of shit. Promising her a four course meal, I drove through a fast food place and got her two number threes. While she ate on the couch, I went upstairs to change. My cock was still hard from earlier, so I thought to try again. Looking through my wife's hamper I realized that the entire floor was a hamper. She was a messy, lazy piece of shit. Still, I needed to jerk off and so I found a pair of her used panties. God, they were nasty. It was a plain white parachute, with dark streaks. I was disgusted and repelled by them. No way would I want to sniff them. Why then did I want to sniff Melissa's cunt? There was nothing that excited me about my wife's panties. I didn't even want to rub my cock off them. Melissa, on the other hand, I would eat her ass clean if she told me to. And gladly, with my cock rock-hard the entire time. Even after her being at work all day, sweaty and soaked with juices, I'd sniff Melissa's underwear. Put them right up to my nose and inhale. She was beautiful and hard-working and took care of herself. Just then, my wife's voice stabbed me through the back. "What are you doing?" She had snuck up on me preoccupied in thought and caught me red-handed. I was holding her used underwear in my hand and hadn't been changing like I said I would. Angry at her laziness, I threw them down in the hamper and pointed at the entire room, "Why couldn't you clean this room up? This is a great mess." Before she could reply, I bent down to pick up clothes off the floor and added them to the hamper. It looked like I was cleaning up after her. She lied, "Sorry, I was going to do that after dinner." Instead of helping, she got into bed and turned the TV on, eating her parfait. For sake of form, I cleared up the floor and went to brush my teeth. After I showered, I lay down next to her and turned away from the light. It was a long, tiring day and I needed sleep. Within minutes, I felt my wife's hand slide over my body and land on my cock. She started fondling it, and I wondered what had gotten into her to want to do this. She didn't express sexual needs very often. Now, she was rubbing it into an erection, and after my earlier perversion, I needed to get off. Turning toward her, I reached up to kiss her when I noticed she was still watching the TV. Her hand followed my turning, and she was sliding it up and down over the covers, but never looked away from the screen. She glanced at me for a brief second and asked, "Wanna mess around?" Since the kiss wasn't going to happen, I said "Um, uh huh" and pulled the covers off. She wrapped her chubby hand around my cock and started stroking it slowly. At first, it felt great, but then she lost track of it, distracted by the TV. The hand just kind of gradually stopped touching me. Intending to get her attention back, I reached under her shirt and pulled it up, then ran my head to her stomach and kissed it. She put her hand on my head and stroked my hair. Normally, I'm a very loving man. Conflictingly, I love my wife and also hate her for some things, but I always want to show her she's wanted. Gently, I moved my kisses up her stomach and kissed her bare breasts under her shirt. She liked it, I could tell by her moans. She was not getting fat anymore, but had gotten fat, I realized. I didn't care, I still loved her and was attracted to her. Whenever she wanted to have sex, I always went along with it to show her she was beautiful to me. Pushing one of her leggings off with the other leg, she slid half of her stretch pants off. I was getting excited since she obviously wanted to fuck. She grabbed my hair and moaned slowly, guiding my kisses toward her stomach. Guess my sensuality had turned her on. But, she kept pulling my head down by my hair lower and lower, past her stomach. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure I shared her definition of "messing around" but she didn't care. She yanked my hair harder toward her pussy and whispered, "C'mon baby, get me nice and hot. Lick it." After working the entire day, fixing a broken washer, picking up dinner, and cleaning the bedroom I was tired and wanted sleep. She wanted head. I was pissed. Had this been any other day, I would have started a fight and gone to sleep on the couch. But I was horny because of what happened at Mel's condo. It was then I decided to give her angry head. Angry thoughts were forming in my head. "Fine, you lazy bitch, you want to get your snatch eaten, I'll show you how hard I work for you," I said to myself. With my hands I spread her pussy lips far apart, but gently. Then, I ran my tongue from her belly button all the way down to her clit, but didn't quite get it on. My tongue was facing her sideways. Instead, I French-kissed her pussy lips and made her feel how warm my mouth was. She moaned, and rested her hand on my head. Very gently I spread her pussy lips some more and started licking her clit. Very slowly, up and down, or as she experienced it left and right. Every 15 seconds I alternated pressing my wet lips against them and sucking on her clit, and she obviously liked it. She was still my wife, and I wanted her to feel good. Minutes into it, I was getting really hard so I thought this was an appropriate time to slip into her pussy and fuck her hard. I repositioned myself between her legs, but as I started sliding up toward her, she stopped me by pushing my head down. "C'mon baby, lick it some more." She looked me in the eyes and repeated, "eat my pussy." Spreading her pussy lips again, I continued licking and sucking it, moving my whole head up and down to give her pleasure. Within minutes, I could feel her get more wet, so I looked up to see if she was ready for a fucking. Eyes can communicate these things. Instead, she was looking at the TV. Melissa's Panties That fucking lazy bitch was watching TV while I was giving her head. It made my blood boil. Every morning I got up at 6 and went to work, and she rolled out of bed at noon and watched TV for rest of the day. And now, I was giving her the most amazing head and she couldn't peel her eyes off it for a few minutes. Fine. "Hope you enjoy this tongue, you lazy cunt, because it's the last time you're going to get it" I thought to myself and kept lapping at her pussy. Thinking to up my game, I inserted a finger gently in her and kept licking and sucking on her clit. She was moaning hard now, and when I looked up, she had closed her eyes. At least she wasn't distracted anymore. "Lick my asshole," she asked. Looking at her fat face, I thought how I'd rather burn the house down instead, but I did it. I don't know why I did it, maybe just to spite her in my head, or because I was horny, but I stuck my tongue in her ass and made her feel how angry I was, and kept fingering her pussy. Within minutes she was starting to lose control; her head moved side to side and her hips were starting to buck against my face. With a long grunt, she came and pushed my head away. I got up on my knees, wondering if it was time to fuck now. Instead, she got up and went to the bathroom and peed. She took way too long, and it killed my erection. When she came back, she kissed my cheek and went to sleep. Guess that was that. Next thing I knew it was morning, and the weekend started. I kept busy with chores, and found myself in bed on Sunday night sound asleep. As I got up on Monday morning, I glanced at my wife and shook my head in disappointment. Then I showered, fed the dogs, made lunches for the kids and drove to work. No one should be glad to be at work, but I was. It took me away from my unhappy reality and kept me busy. What else could I want for? Just as I was happily droning around, I ran into Melissa. She gave me an icy stare likes of which I've never seen before. Her arms were crossed, eyes wide open, and mouth tightly clamped shut. I waved, but she didn't acknowledge it. After a few seconds of staring, she went on about her business. Fuck. Toward end of the day, she walked up to me and coldly said, "The washing machine is leaking worse." Thank god. I blinked and wondered if she was unhappy because she felt like I broke the machine even more, which, I'd take that over being caught playing with her underwear. "Huh, that's unexpected. So did you wait one or two days before using it?" The silicone was fast-curing, and wouldn't have taken but half a day. "No, I washed a load right away that night." God damn it. Didn't she hear a word I said that night? It would take at least a day for silicone to cure and seal the leak, otherwise all that effort was for nothing. When I said as much, in the most polite and defensive way I could, she stunned me. She cocked her head to the side and replied calmly and very slowly, "Well, I had a very dirty load to wash." When I said nothing, she repeated herself, "A very, very, very dirty load." Fuck. I'm fucked. She somehow either saw me do it, or had a nanny cam or some shit, and now I'm royally fucked. My heart stopped and I wondered where she was going with this. She cocked her head to the other side inquisitively and added, "So you see, I couldn't wait a day or two." I nodded and vaguely admitted, "I understand." She stared for another ten seconds, which felt like an eternity, and asked, "Can you help me take the machine to the dump after work?" At this point, I would have said yes to anything to avoid a confrontation. She was obviously very upset, but at the same time herself trying to avoid talking about the truth. She was giving me a chance to make it up to her by doing this chore. All I said was "yeah, of course." She walked off and I texted my wife to tell her I'd be home late. She replied to tell me she wanted burritos for dinner. When I got to Mel's place, she just stood there and watched with her arms crossed while I disconnected the machine and then struggled moving it out of her condo. It took forever and I could have used some help. She was pissed, really, really pissed. She had a right to be. I fucked up, and I owed it to her to make it right. When I finished loading it into my minivan, she surprised me by getting in the passenger seat and buckling up. That puzzled me. Guess she wanted to see the matter through, so I got in and drove toward the county landfill. She just sat there in silence, pissed. After I unloaded the machine, I headed back to her place to drop her off. So I get it how she held me responsible for the machine not being fixed and that she gave up on the machine, which meant that she intended to buy a new one. Despite what inappropriate thing I did, the inconvenience she put me through was a lot. Hesitantly, as we pulled into the parking lot for her condo, I brought it up. "Mel, you know that for $30 extra the installers will take away your old machine, right?" I pulled into a spot and put the minivan in park. She glared at me like I insulted her and replied with incredulity in her voice, "Thirty dollars? I don't have thirty dollars." Then she freaked the fuck out. She unbuckled herself, hovered over the seat, reached under her skirt, and pulled her underwear off. It was the same pair I had molested on Friday, and she threw them at me. She shrieked, "Those cost sixty dollars. Sixty dollars! Twice as much as thirty." The panties landed on my stomach and I was beyond shocked. After all this, I thought I'd avoid the conflict and being called out for what I did. Most people would do anything to avoid a confrontation. I begged. "Please Mel, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please believe me how sorry I am." She started crying. That told me more than anything else that I was so fucked. In her hysteria, she was bound to do anything. She was hurt and could lash out at anything. Within half a minute, I felt I had to say something to try to stop her from crying. "Mel, it was just a freak thing, I wasn't planning on doing anything of the sort." Her face turned red and she yelled at me again. "Freak??" "Freak doesn't begin to describe what you did to me. Do you know how unclean I felt when I realized what you did?" Again, I apologized. "Melissa, I am so so sorry. Please believe me, I didn't mean to do it." She was inconsolable. "What do you mean you didn't mean it? You know what I mean to do? I mean to go to a doctor and get myself checked out and send you the bill for it. That's what I mean to do. Do you have -- any -- idea how many diseases are floating around like that, and how you violated my hygiene?" She was crying through those words and Jesus, I knew I was fucked. She didn't need a machine disposed of, she wanted revenge and she was having it. She continued her rant through sobs, "I just might have to throw away all my clothes from that pile to be sure." She wiped her tears and then looked me in the eyes, "Do you have any idea how much that costs? Hint, it's not thirty dollars." Dear god, I was so royally fucked. "What do you think your wife will say when I call her and tell her how you jerked off all over my expensive panties?" she asked. There was no time to lose. I had to reassure her of how this was a freak thing or she'd spin out of control and maybe actually call my god-damned wife. "Now wait a minute, I apologized and I'm still apologizing. What I did was very wrong. I violated your privacy and there's nothing I can do to undo that." I kept going, "Melissa, please believe me that I wasn't planning any of this, I just wanted to help you with the dang machine and in that moment when I was alone something came over me and for that I am really really sorry. I should have controlled myself better." She nodded. That was a good sign. I tried to seal the deal, "All I can say is that no, I don't have any diseases and I didn't mean anything malicious to happen. I figured you'd wash this laundry after a day and it would be as clean as new." Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say. She exploded again. "Clean? As good as new? Are you fucking kidding me?" She grabbed the panties off my lap and waved them in my face, almost barking at me in her anger, "These are from Victoria's Secret. Do you think they can be clean as new, after you jerked off all over them?" I had to minimize the damage, so I told her the truth. "Mel, I just rubbed off of them a little but I didn't go all the way like you think I did. I'm sorry, that's not much better but it's the honest truth." She didn't believe me and asked, "How do you think I knew?" Good question. I was sure she didn't see me. I shook my head, and she explained, "I could smell sperm the moment I walked into my laundry room. Then after you left, I looked through the pile and found these right next to the bra. And guess what, your sperm was all over the crotch." She cried again, looking down at the floorboard. "I wore those that day, all day. What would your wife think if she knew you rubbed yourself all over them?" As quickly as I could say it, I pleaded, "Please don't tell my wife." To add to my begging, I explained myself again, "This wasn't anything I planned to do, but I am really really sorry for doing it. And I swear to you, I really didn't go all the way. See, you washed it afterwards and you know nothing bad happened." She threw them back in my lap and through her teeth asked, "Do you really think these could ever be clean again?" Answering her question was pointless. I just gave up. She'd go tell my wife and I'd be in deep shit, so I mentally prepared myself for this inevitability. She was raving mad at this point, "Well, go on and show me how you didn't - how'd you phrase it - go all the way?" "Mel, now wait just a minute--" She interrupted me, "Go ahead, show me how it's not a huge mess. What's a matter, your minivan isn't as good enough as my laundry room?" "Melissa, there's no way... I apologized for...-" She interrupted again, "No, go ahead, pull your dick out and show me how they can be clean afterwards. You do that and I won't say a word to anyone." This bitch was crazy and I was confused. What was her game? For a moment I was tempted to take the easy way out she was offering, but I thought the moment I did that, she'd scream at top of her lungs and someone would see me exposing myself. She could tell how hesitant I was and nudged me. "Oh, that's right, you also need my bra to get off." She reached behind and under her shirt, unclipped her bra, then pulled it out through her sleeve, in that freaky way women do it. Then she put it right over my crotch, and repeated herself. "Well, what are you waiting for? Show me what you did with it." I grabbed her bra to return to her, and then realized how warm it felt. I turned toward her with it, but then hesitated. I felt my cock stir, but also felt the danger of this unhinged woman. Whatever was going through her mind was terrifying because of how she cried a minute ago. Her tears hadn't dried yet, and she took this confrontation 180 degrees toward where I didn't expect it to go. She was crazy. And my dick was hard. And her warm bra was in my hand. "Did you sniff them, you pervert?" she asked softly. I nodded. She leaned over and picked her panties up off my lap, unbunched them and brought them closer toward my nose. "Could you smell my pussy on them?" she asked. I nodded again. She pressed them against my nose and asked, "Like this? Is this how you smelled my pussy? Was it this fresh?" Having inconsistent answers meant I couldn't just nod, so I moaned a soft and confused "uh huh." In fact, this was the most confused hardon I've ever had. I inhaled, and god, I could smell her pussy again. It got me so hard, I couldn't believe it. This crazy woman was playing some kind of a power game, and I had no idea how she meant to balance things in her favor. "Go on, show me what you did with them," she asked softly. That was the tipping point. Feeling like I was out of my mind, I unzipped my pants and pulled my hard dick out, then pressed her bra against it. She still held her panties up by my nose, but she was looking down at my cock rubbing off her bra. I tried to repeat exactly what I did at her place, but it couldn't be exactly the same. When I hung it up on my cock, or at least rested it in the similar position as before, she lowered her panties and dropped them in my hand. Then, she picked up her bra, and rubbed it off my cock. Oh my god, she was touching my cock through her beautiful soft bra. It was black with pink lacy marks, and it felt so good. And nasty. My cock was wildly leaking precum, and she turned the bra with one hand so inside of the cups faced its head. With the other hand, she grabbed my cock and held it straight up. Then, she rubbed my precum off with part of the bra that covered her nipple. Finished with one cup, she tried to do the other but my cock was now dry. She started jerking my cock slowly up and down in silence, and within a minute more precum showed up. She repeated the process with the other cup and got her bra soaked in those two spots, then let go of my dick. "This was a $40 bra, you know." She lifted her shirt up and I could see her beautiful tits. They were soft and just amazing. She pressed the bra against them, pretending to put it on, and groped herself smearing the precum spots on her nipples. Fuck me, that was hot. She pulled her shirt back down and the bra just kind of hung in there held in place between her tits and her shirt. "Well go on, show me what you did to my dirty panties," she told me. Holding them stretched apart, just like I did at her condo, I pressed my cock against them and slid them slowly up and down over it. I was so excited now that my precum was starting to turn into white globs. As I stroked the panties downward, a few drops of white spilled out and started running down them. She whimpered, sounding like she was going to cry again. With a broken, pitiful voice she said, "You're ruining my panties." She snorted, proving to me again that she was absolutely fucking crazy, because it meant she was really crying again. She went on, fighting back tears, "They cost $60. I worked all day to pay for them. You just started and they're already stained." Just because she was crazy, I couldn't stop - because I was really getting hard. I stretched them so they'd feel tighter and sped up rubbing them up and down my cock. She could see the bulge press through on the other side. She wiped a tear off. Dear god, she really was crying as she continued whimpering. "You don't even care. You're stretching them out of shape and making a mess of them, and you just don't care. Oh god." What I really wanted to do was grab her hair and shove her stupid mouth right on my cock to shut her up. Instead, I was now convinced that me stroking my cock with her panties genuinely made her uncomfortable and unsettled. Good. This crazy bitch had it coming. After I spent hours working on her broken laundry machine, she fucked it up by using it when I said not to. I wanted to make her cry harder. She did. "Oh my god, you're ruining my panties. My Victoria's Secret panties." She covered her eyes with her hands for a moment, and when she looked again, I was trying to make a hole through them with my cock. The bulge was sticking obscenely through, and maybe if I pushed a little harder, I would have broken them. A tiny bit of cum showed up soaking through, and she wailed again, angrily this time. "You fucking asshole, you went through my stuff and came all over my expensive underwear." She sobbed for a moment, and continued, "And now you're making a hole in them. They'll never be right again." My cock was pushing against what would have been her asshole, if she was wearing them. Her pitiful demeanor pushed me over the edge. That night, I had fucked up in a moment of curious temptation, and she made me feel like I would pay for it forever. Instead, her whimpering made me feel like I had some power over her. Some control over her. "You're getting cum all over them, and you don't even care," she pointed at the bulge. Sounding even angrier, she threatened through her teeth and whimpered, "You'll care when I tell your wife what you did." Suddenly I thought of how pitiful I must have looked going down on my wife while she watched TV. Melissa didn't know about that or how my wife walked all over me, but her threat made me feel like a piece of shit. I should have shoved my cock in my wife's mouth to make her stop watching TV. Feeling angry at all women, at my fat lazy wife, at this crazy controlling bitch, I started embracing the idea of ruining her fancy underwear. Before I realized I wasn't thinking, but was instead saying things outloud, the line came out and I couldn't undo it. "Fuck you, you stupid cunt. This is what I think about your expensive panties." And I came all over them. At first through them, then I stroked big lines of cum right over on the crotch. I was grunting, and almost yelling at her, "Bet you're going to smell this sperm, you crazy bitch." She was crying softly and pleading, "Please stop, you're ruining them." That made me stroke my cock even harder, splashing all the cum I saved up for a week. She continued begging, "The stains won't wash off, please stop! Please stop!" My cock entirely drained, I threw them on the floorboard and then started freaking the fuck out in a post-orgasmic recoil. What did I just do? What the fuck happened here? She cried some more, picked her panties up off the floor, and straightened them out holding them by their sides. My cum was everywhere, but especially soaking her crotch area. She looked at them real close and then said in a pitiful voice, "Look what you did to them." Still mad at something I couldn't define, I went on, "See, I told you I didn't go all the way the other night." She looked at me and held her panties stretched even more, locked her eyes with mine, and then started putting them back on. What the fuck was wrong with this crazy bitch? If she was this upset to actually cry about what I did to her panties the other night, why in god's name would she be putting them on now. She spread her legs and put each heeled foot through slowly, to make sure I saw it, then pulled them up even slower. When she got up to her skirt, she hovered above the seat again and slipped them under. I could see her naked hips. She was putting the cum-soaked panties right back on, on her bare pussy. Still looking me right in the eyes, she grabbed her purse and walked out. One of her bra straps hung lazily under her shirt. She slammed the door so hard, it made my fillings rattle in my mouth. She slowly walked up to her condo, swinging her hips, while I watched in disbelief.