Colin Johnson - The panty lovers

"All right, all right," she conceded, refusing to let him spoil the warm sensual mood she was in. "I'll take it off so it won't upset you. There's nothing wrong with a woman letting her husband see her breasts, is there?"

"No," he admitted dubiously, as he watched her strip off her fragile brassiere and bare the sensuously-swaying mounds of her breasts to him, wondering with his precise scientific mind what on earth had gotten into her.

"All right, now let me wash your back!" she picked up the cloth and began running her hands tenderly over his shoulders and ribs, deliberately trying to arouse him.

Nothing!

She changed positions, perching on the side of the tub facing him so that her large pendulous breasts hung directly in front of his face as she scrubbed him, a sight guaranteed to arouse any normal man.

No results. She glanced covertly down between her husband's legs as she washed him, expecting at any moment to see his small soft penis begin to grow. But his cock remained limp and inactive, bobbing gently under the surface of the bath water.

"Did an interesting autopsy yesterday," he said, trying to start a little light conversation, and ignoring the fact that Ann's right nipple was brushing persistently across his lips as he tried to speak. "A young woman, about your age, killed in an automobile accident…"

"Oh, don't be gruesome, Frank," she cut him off. "I don't want to hear about it. Come on, climb out now, you're done. I'll dry you off."

The young doctor obediently stopped talking about the fascinating autopsy he'd done and stepped dripping onto the bathmat, wondering what on earth was coming over his wife. First she comes bursting into the sanctity of his bathroom, then rips off her clothing and insists on scrubbing his back, something he had been doing for himself since he was ten years old. And not wanting to hear about his autopsy! What could you do with such a woman?

Ann busily dried Frank's shoulders and arms and then knelt at his feet to take care of his trunk and legs. Before her eyes dangled his small soft boyish cock, about half the size of Birindelli's massive instrument, and Ann found herself wondering how she managed to arouse such powerful emotions in other men and nothing at all in her own husband?

She ran the towel languidly up the inside of his leg until her hand came into contact with his balls and then down again to his knees. Would he ever get the idea? she wondered, moving her face unnecessarily close to his penis in the hope that her hot breath would turn him on.

Frank, in the meantime, was paying very little attention to her efforts, concentrating instead on reviewing what he knew about female psychology in an effort to diagnose his wife's strange behavior. Then suddenly, as she began rubbing the towel vigorously over his penis, a very significant paragraph from one of his text-books occurred to him. All the symptoms she was displaying were characteristic of intensive sexual desire. "Well, that's easily taken care of," he announced with an easy professional smile as if he had been reading her mind all along. "Why didn't you just say so if you wanted to make love, my dear?"

Ann could have wept with joy. "Oh, make love to me, Frank," she pleaded. "I don't know why, but I want it so bad!"

"Certainly, sweet," he answered condescendingly. "Shall we go into the bedroom?"

"Wait," she stopped him, an impish smile crossing her face as she dropped the towel on the floor. "I'll get you started first."

Raising her hands, she took his soft flaccid penis in her fingers and moved it gently past her parted lips, running her tongue across the red gland the way she had for Jacques LaFarge the night before. Then, sucking hard, she pulled him all the way into her mouth, her face nestling in his clean, fresh-smelling loins.

But before she could properly begin the operation, Frank was gone, yanking himself roughly away from her with a horrified gasp. His hand came down out of nowhere, catching her cruelly on the side of the head and sending her sprawling across the tiled bathroom floor.

"You slut!" he shouted at her in a rage. "Where did you learn that little trick? I won't have my wife behaving like a common whore. Get your clothing on. You disgust me!"

And he stalked out of the room, leaving her to sob into the wet washcloth.

Outside, the wind was blowing as autumn began to sweep over the city, but inside Apartment Number Eleven, it was so warm and pleasant that Ann relaxed on the big circular waterbed in the living room wearing only a pair of skimpy nylon panties and feeling no particular need for any warmer clothing. Sipping a Scotch on the rocks, she gazed dreamily out the window and watched the dry red leaves blow off the trees, remembering how cold and dreary it was in the shabby cheap flat she and her husband rented.

Naturally, she spent very little time there these days. After Jacques LaFarge had signed his million-dollar contract, Wonder-Wear had closed out its summer sales program and started making preparations for the winter season, which meant that Birindelli had the two girls busy day and night. Besides, since that terrible day when Frank had slapped her for trying to suck his cock, there had been a deadly coolness between them and she'd felt uncomfortable and ill at ease in her own home, avoiding it whenever she could. It was so much nicer here, she thought happily, in this marvelous place with expensive furniture, a fireplace and a liquor closet which always seemed to be full.

The pretty brunette model was lazily considering getting up to pour herself another drink when the door opened and Jenifer burst in, as usual all smiles and enthusiasm.

"Hey, aren't you dressed yet?" called the young blonde girl cheerfully. "Or do you plan to receive the president of our glorious corporation wearing last year's panties? The least you could do is put on the bra and panties we're selling this season!"

"Oh, Jenny, is it already time to get dressed?" Ann complained. "I was just enjoying lying here getting as drunk as a pig. And it seems like such a waste of time getting all dressed when the gang'll just find some excuse to make us get undressed all over again."

"I suppose they will," admitted Jenifer. "But that's the fun part of it. Who's coming tonight anyway, the usual bunch?"

"Yeah, just the boss, plus Pauling and the president. No customers as far as I know. Supposed to be a family party."

"Not many families that sell five million dollars worth of panties alone in one year," Jenifer reminded her. "Anyway, the family that lays together, stays together, or something like that. Come on, Miss Big-Tits get your ass up and put some clothing on it. They could be here any minute now."

Ann playfully threw a pillow at her friend, climbed off the water-bed and walked into her bedroom to dress. With her greatly increased salary, the young woman had invested heavily in her wardrobe, buying the latest in women's fashions from Paris and Rome, as well as getting many free samples of everything produced by Wonder-Wear. She was a little surprised to find that she really enjoyed wearing daring sexy dresses which displayed as much of her desirable young body as possible, becoming excited herself whenever she knew that she had succeeded in arousing the animal lust in a man.

"Let me see, what should I wear?" she asked herself, thumbing through her vast collection of outfits. "Shall I put on something really shocking?"

"Go ahead," Jenifer encouraged her, coming up behind her supple brown-haired friend and looking over one smooth shoulder into the closet. "If I had your body, I'd go naked!"

"Suppose I wear this one," suggested Ann, holding up a miniskirt which was almost sheer and tantalizingly short, "with only a pair of red bikini panties underneath?"