Washing his Wife's Panties

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When Nicole arrived home, she looked tired. She undressed down to her panties and lay on their big bed. The room was warm and smelled of gladiolas which filled several vases and of a hickory wood fire that Peter had been burning all night. She rolled up on her back, knees in the air, like a young girl and slipped off her panties and tossed them to the end of the bed. Again her sex was waxed to a silky baldness. She lay back, cocked her head slightly in repose, exhaling with satisfaction and smiled at Peter. Her body glowed but in doughy, pale hues. His eyes moved from hers to her sex where she parted her legs and displayed herself to him. Her vagina was puffy, flushed, so that her outer lips contrasted with the rest of her pale body. Her sex was opened, flowering, the inner lips showing clearly, little flaps overlapping the bigger lips, in variegated pinks and grays, opening outward as if in invitation. Peter's jealousy broke through.

"Did you fuck him?" Peter stammered abruptly.

Nicole shook her head and frowned. Her face crumpled and she growled. "Quiet, Peter. I don't want to hear that question again. You know that's none of your business."

"I need to know," he whined.

"Hand me my panties," she commanded.

Irritated, she made him kneel in front of her and told him to open his mouth. When he did she stuffed the panties she'd worn that night into his mouth.

"Clean them, darling. I'll add a little soap and we'll make your mouth a small washing machine that cleans away my naughtiness."

She went to the bathroom and put a dollop of hand soap on her finger, came back and inserted it into his mouth wiping it on the panties.

"Now be a good boy and wash my very dirty panties in your mouth."

This was as close as Nicole ever came to telling Peter she had fucked Julian. She never confessed. She never told Peter about her sexual relationship with Julian. She maintained that her relationship with Julian was hers and hers alone and none of Peter's business.

She knew Peter loved to kneel for her. That's the reason she'd chosen him. He made her feel secure. He was her boy, her devoted husband who'd never cheat, never even have an orgasm without her permission. She knew he needed to be reminded of his place of the way they were as a couple. So on most of her date nights with Julian, she would text Peter when she was on her way home and would expect him to be kneeling, waiting for her at the end of their large bed. She'd dab some hand soap on her finger, slip off her wet panties and put them and the soap in Peter's mouth.

She'd smile at him and he'd lower his eyes which were filled with the electric sparks a submissive man gets from a dominant woman who loves him.

"Darling, it's time for you to wash away the signs of my naughtiness," she said. Then, she grinned. "Of course, my naughtiness will always remain."