HOTWIFE | SPANKING | EROTICA
“You don’t need panties when meeting my friends.”
I’d intentionally disobeyed my husband. Bent over his knee, I awaited my punishment before meeting his horny friends.
--
Not waiting for the driver, I opened the car door and slid alongside my husband, hoping he didn’t notice I was late.
“What are you wearing?” He asked, not amused.
I looked down at my electric blue, bodycon dress that could be stretched until it almost reached halfway between my crotch and knees. “Your favorite, as requested.”
“And?” His voice didn’t even hint at humor.
“Four-inch heels with clear tops so your friends can wank off to my toes.” I wasn’t even kidding. One of my husband’s friends had such a foot fetish that all I had to do to make him happy was rest my feet in his lap during dinner. I didn’t need to stroke his cock, or even speak to him. All he wanted was my feet.
“And?”
“The earrings you gave me for my birthday, and the choker you gave me when we …” I didn’t need to continue. The earrings cost more than my first car, and the choker had been my reclaiming gift after my first foursome.
“And?”
“Panties so I don’t feel naked under the dress.” They were my favorite black lace and deliberately worn to vex my husband.
“Lie across my lap,” he demanded.
I looked at the driver, but if he heard or saw anything, he didn’t react — his eyes focused on the road.
“Did I stutter?” my husband asked, clearly displeased with my slow reaction.
I undid my seatbelt as he slid into the middle seat. When I looked and him and saw a hint of lust, I quickly kicked off my shoes and did as I was told, resting my head over crossed arms while resting my core over his bulge. I could feel his erection. He did nothing to hide his desire.
Thwack. The first slap felt tempered by my thin dress.
Thwack. Thwack. I felt my pussy ooze desire, and knew the tiny fabric that pretended to be my underwear was already drenched.
