Melissa's Panties

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.