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Tell-Tale Panties

After my wife returns from fucking one of her regular lovers or from an impromptu one-night stand with a stranger, we perform a reclaiming ritual celebrating our marriage’s openness and the abundance of erotic pleasures it affords us. We are a mixed-race couple, obviously not monogamous, with varied sexual appetites; she is a petite Chinese woman, Luci, and I am a perverted Englishman. We have been a committed couple for twenty-plus years and have been welcoming others into our carnal play for much of that time. She is a flirtatious, teasing hotwife, a wanton exhibitionist, proud to be called ‘slut’, who enjoys many partners, male and female. I am a hardcore voyeur who gets off watching my slut hotwife flirt and tease, allowing herself to be seduced, and if carnal karma rewards my patient observing, the unabashed vista of her being comprehensively fucked, and when the erotic muse takes me, participating in the comprehensive fucking. Picasso sex I call it, a writhing blur of ecstatic bodies painting a bizarre erotic canvas on our bed, on our flesh and in our minds; entwined limbs engulfing my wife, another man (or woman or both or a group) and me, giving her a multiplicity of tongues, cocks, pussies, tits, asses, hands, fingers and toes so she’s satisfied in every welcoming orifice through a seemingly perpetual stream of cascading orgasms.

Other times, as the craving for wild independence grips her libido, Luci is more minimalist in her carnal exploits; my seductive slut fucks solo, leaving her wedding ring at home, thrilled by the visceral rush of appearing to be an older single woman, a sexy Chinese cougar, on the prowl for studly cocks, secure with the secret safety net of a supportive, understanding, extremely horny husband lovingly waiting for her return with open arms and a hard, stroked cock. My wanking wait is exquisite teasing torture; no matter the aching temptation to drain my cum-swollen balls throughout our night apart while she’s off having wild sex, she knows and enjoys that I’ll edge closer to orgasm, perusing photos or videos of her past sexploits, imagining my pretty little wife being fucked by rough strangers she just met, or demanding lovers who often use her pliant body as a fucktoy. But I will not cum; by the time she returns I am granite hard, throbbing like a racing heart and ready to explode. And then and only then, as our reclaiming ritual requires, we re-consummate our carnal vows according to strict rules we have agreed to in return for my indulgence of her extra-marital desires.  

This arrangement ensures the vitality of our marriage, satisfying our differing sexual needs; as a voyeur, I lust to watch Luci with others, and when circumstance prevents me watching in the flesh, I encourage my wife to perform wanton sexual acts and upon her return, provide in intimate detail an erotic recounting of everything she did, describing every act she performed, from her initial flirting to the ultimate fucking, as if I were there, watching, stroking, cumming to her sexploits. As corroboration and visceral stimulation, I need tangible proof of what a bad slut she was from the sodden state of her panties (and/or pantyhose should she have adorned her legs and crotch in a luxurious nylon sheath). Complying with these naughty needs is not a problem for my wild Asian wife; Luci’s teasing, exhibitionist nature relishes regaling me with dirty descriptions of what a cheating wife she was, her soaked undergarments proudly stuffed in my mouth, so I taste and devour the evidence of her debauchery as if I were there. We’re a symbiotic, modern couple; to coin an overused business transaction phrase: it’s a classic win-win deal.

The preparation for our ritual begins prior to Luci’s leaving. Doesn’t matter if she’s off to meet one of her lovers for a drink or two, which as she gets more cocktails in her will lead to him repeatedly getting his cock in her during a night of extra-hot-extra-marital sex, or if she goes out with girlfriends, or on her own, to a bar or a club, on the hunt for new cock. No matter the nature of the soiree, I help her dress for her night out in such an enticing manner that she will, without fail, be fucked. Preparing for either slutty scenario, my Asian seductress gives me a cock-teasing fashion show as I help her select just the right short-enough skirt, the sexiest fuck-me heels, and a see-through top that I always encourage her not to wear a bra underneath, even though her perky hard nipples will be on prominent public display.

 

Lastly, and most importantly for our ritual, I sift through her lingerie drawer and choose the panties she will be fucked in, or at least will have pulled aside or better yet, ripped off. I may also select a pair of stockings or pantyhose to emphasize the firmness of her legs; I am a hose aficionado, and I know they increase Luci’s leggy already irresistible appearance manyfold. The look and feel of my slutwife in pantyhose with a tiny contrasting thong underneath is exquisitely erotic, especially when she teases with an upskirt glimpse by slowly crossing and uncrossing her legs at the bar or bending over to retrieve the napkin she ‘accidentally’ dropped.

Once I have selected just the right pair of panties and pantyhose, I ease them on for her, sliding them up her long, firm legs, snugging them into place, placing a good-fuck-luck kiss on Luci’s panty-and-pantyhose covered pussy as I squeeze that firm nylon-clad ass. Next, I caress her feet and help her on with her fuck-me-heels, enjoying the upskirt vista of her lingerie encased crotch. Before bidding my slut au revior, I shoot a few upskirt pix for later stroking enjoyment.

I perform all these attentions to Luci’s fuckdoll appearance knowing that in a few hours or perhaps less there will be another man reversing my oh so attentive dressing actions, with little regard for the packaging I have created for his enjoyment other than perhaps a comment about how hot my slut looks, his hands sliding up her short skirt, as I did, caressing her firm ass, as I did, hooking his fingers into the pantyhose waist band and thin side panty straps, as I did, only he will be doing so to pull these briefest of intimate apparel down those same long Asian slutwife legs I fondled, spreading them apart to fuck her married pussy, and later, maybe her ass if he proves a worthy lover. As I will. When Luci returns home to me.

“Harder, harder, fuck me harder than my husband ever does. Fuck your slut, I’m your whore, fuck me like you fucking mean it,” Luci will scream to him and confess to me when she returns, well fucked and full of juicy details, and just as full of juicy cum, slinking home, often in the pale, accusatory dawn light, stumbling on shaky legs, carrying in her hand her expensive fuck-me heels that I bought her, a gift which clearly lived up to its reputation and was worth every penny because she’s a beautiful, fucked, hot mess of a slutty woman, teetering next to our marital bed, reeling from drinking too much, being fucked hard and used as a cumdump sex toy all night long. As our ritual demands, we first kiss, deep, deeper than Luci wants, and I taste cock and cum and whisky in her mouth. She wants to shower and sleep but she gets no respite from me; the ritual must be obeyed by her as I have obeyed our rules all night; I need her dirty with their mutual unabashed lust and crave the details I missed by not being there to watch her be so dirty with another man; I want Luci was away on her tryst, I tortured myself imaging another man between my Asian wife’s widespread legs, stroking my cock to the photos I took up her skirt before she left, her lingerie-covered crotch so inviting, her barely hidden pussy lips so full and tempting that he enjoyed around his cock as I wondered, was he harder, bigger, better than me? Did he make Luci cum more? Did she enjoy his cock fucking her more than me? All these things I need to know, and no matter what she tells me now that she is home, I always tease myself with what is the real, unexpurgated sordid story, what didn’t Luci tell me about how he fucked her better than me and the things she did for him that she doesn’t do for me. What did he say to her? What degrading names did he call her that made her wet? What superior fucker epithets did she bestow upon him? How much of a slut was she for him? How much of her whoring is she hiding that her tell-tale panties will reveal?

These mysteries heighten my anticipation, my arousal and fuel my desire to reclaim Luci. Following our welcome home kiss, she strips off her disheveled clothes standing over me, performs a slutty tease strut as she does so, peels away her sodden panties and ripped pantyhose and throws them to the floor by the bed as an offering to me.

 

With reverence I retrieve them. I sniff them, lick them, place them on my face until she is naked and ready to reveal all. I have been straining hard for all these hours I waited for Luci, my lovely Asian slut, who was away fucking other men, as many as she wants, as often as she wants, to return from fucking her temporary lovers, the strangers she flirts with, the anonymous fucks she enjoys and now she is back and is mine again, and Luci must pay the price for her freedom to fuck unfettered of monogamous constraints. I am harder at this precious moment than I have been all night, my cock throbs and pre-cum leaks from the tip to drip, drip, drip onto my body as I smell her fresh lust (and his) on my face. My straying wife watches, growing aroused by the sight of her rapturous husband reliving her fucking from the musky morsels she tosses my way.

Luci climbs on top of me and sits astride my face, pressing her cum-soaked cunt coverings deeper into my mouth with her fingers, sliding her pungent, messy pussy over my face so I taste her stretched opening and her sodden panties in one delicious treat. She arches her slight body, small tits perky and pointing, and my eyes focus on her nipples imagining her conqueror sucking, squeezing, and biting them like I have so many times, but his attentions were novel, whereas mine are all too familiar my slutty wife tells me, and there was wonder and reverence in his eyes to feast upon such sexy little titties, and it really excited her the way he grabbed and groped her breasts so roughly like some perverse infant desperate for my wife’s nipples. Conscious of my fascination and my over active imagination and my cum-dripping cock and my straining balls, Luci reaches behind her and strokes my shaft, pausing to squeeze my swollen balls as she recounts in sordid detail everything this other man did to her, from his initial kisses upon meeting, to the way his hand caressed her back, sliding to her thighs, fingering her in the bar while other men watched, to fucking her in a back room bent, those expensive Wolford pantyhose I bought her ripped apart and that sexy lingerie I gave as a present from a business trip I made to Paris, now in my mouth, torn from her ass and sodden cunt.

 

 

He was rougher than me, Luci confesses, more demanding and demeaning of her, exciting her to depths of depravity, desperate for his big, thick cock, being treated like a sex object with no will of her own. He spread her legs, kicked apart her fuck-me heels, parted her ass cheeks and groped her married pussy with fingers that were anything but tender, telling her he couldn’t believe her husband let her fuck other men. That if she was his woman, he’d never let her do this; he’d make sure she was always satisfied at home. She laughed, Luci recounts, face pressed down, spitting out through moans of ecstasy and cries of pain, “that’s why I’ll never be your woman. You’re just a fuck. A good fuck, but just a fuck, fucker!”

Her arousal takes hold like an addictive drug as she recounts in lurid, graphic detail her conquest, becoming wild, frenzied, as if she were bent over once again, taking her lover’s extra-marital cock over and over, rewarding me with the voyeuristic narration I crave, describing her naughty night in the powerful grip of a rough stranger, his cock in all her holes as he used her for his urgent releases. He came four times, Luci proudly announces, once in the parking lot and three times back at his apartment. What a stud, she adds.

“I was nothing but a cumdump for this stud, his Chink cumdump slut, he degraded me, and I loved every minute that he used me, every nasty raceplay name he spat as he thrust every inch of his big angry cock into me, over and over, deeper and deeper, every drop of his thick cum that my tight holes milked from his swinging heavy balls, over and over. He came like a fountain, so much cum,” Luci moans and I groan at her slutty admissions penetrating my mind, that she enjoyed being degraded, my imagination adding to the dirty details that are muffled by the press of her thighs around my head; those same soft thighs that just a few hours ago were spread for another man to use her as his ‘Chink cumdump slut,’ the panties and pantyhose she wore stuffed in my mouth that she now rubs her cum drenched, fucked sensitive pussy on as she manipulates my head between her legs. I’m a sex toy for her pleasure, just like she was for him, happy to be so, happy to coax more orgasms from her with my mouth worshipping at her free-use freshly used cunt, relishing the results of her debauchery, my cock throbbing, begging for my long-denied release. This is our ritual as I reclaim Luci, her tell-tale panties confirming every juicy detail she recounts. Should we write down these re-tellings, our sex life would read like one of those hotwife erotica novels that have become so popular in recent years.

She was very wet, wetter than evahhhh, Luci oozes in a sultry, inciteful whisper, excited to be gushing sex juices from her pussy to soak her panties for me, being used like a prostitute the crude and rough stranger bought in the bar for a few drinks and flashed dollars for a quick fuck in a back room, his hard, urgent cock forced inside her, pounding away, his balls slapping her thighs as he slapped her ass with his hand in concert to his thrusts, their rutting making the rudest sound evahhhh, Luci recounts with a dirty laugh, as he quickly creamed with his thirsty-for-married-pussy erection ramming deep. He was not satisfied with just one quick fuck; he wanted more, telling her that after all the expensive single malt whisky he had poured into her she was his for the night. She enjoys prolonging her storytelling with circumstantial minutiae, making me wait for more lurid sex details, extending my self-inflicted edging, recounting how she drove to his place, his cum and hers oozing out into her torn-loose panties and through to her shredded pantyhose, soaking what was left of the gusset for me that I’m tasting now, her perverse present to me, telling me she was always thinking about me and what she could do to make this moment now more exciting than evahhhh. As Luci pulls her pussy from my mouth and guides my throbbing cock into her dripping opening, she describes how the brute didn’t wait for pleasantries once they were in his apartment but how he fucked her on the floor, took her from behind, the pantyhose completely ripped off and the panties now balled up in my mouth,  torn to shreds to ravage my petite hotwife as if she were just a collection of tight holes to serve his needs, plundered for his pleasure. I spurt inside Luci without her moving, just the pulse of her tight cunt muscles coaxing my long-delayed orgasm from me. I moan as she describes in lurid, breathy, whispers all the ways he used her – in her mouth, ass, and pussy and how, once he was finished with her and she was pulling on her torn off clothes, he wanted to keep those soaked, dirtied panties and torn pantyhose, but she said “No, these are for my husband. These belong to him… as do I.”

And that’s why I love my Asian slutwife – Luci shares her body with many men, but she and her tell-tale panties and pantyhose are always mine to keep and savor; ritual complete … we are both satisfied, happy, in love and in lust, and cannot wait for the next time…

Inspired by true events …

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