Caitlin and Mistress Vicky

I reached the end of the floor and looked at the clock. Half an hour left! I was making better time than I thought. Before heading to the bedroom to gather the clothes, I stopped at the bathroom to fix my hair and make-up. My wife said my appearance reflected on her and wouldn't be pleased if I didn't look my best.

Picking up her clothes hamper, I took them to the laundry room. Most of her clothing could be put in the washer but she was clear on wanting her panties hand washed. Seeing the expensive silk and lace reminded me of how this all started.

In the first year of our marriage, it was a wreck. I had been getting less and less tolerant of her commands and we were spending most of the time ignoring each other. It had been so long since we'd had sex that I was drawn to her panties. Every day I wanted to touch them, and everytime I did it brought back uncomfortable memories of stealing my sister's underwear. Just like when I was a kid; it wasn't long before I succumbed to the desire to wear them. I modeled her panties in the mirror and experienced the familiar thrill.

Seeing her face in the mirror behind me however, wasn't nearly as pleasant. I turned around and instantly got red as a tomato. Naturally I assumed that this would be the final blow for our marriage, but once again she surprised me.

Putting her panties in the dryer with plenty of fabric softener, I checked the clock. Done with five minutes to spare! I was proud of myself but there wasn't time to dally. I hurried to the kitchen and mixed up her favorite drink. No matter what, I was getting a reward today. I left it on the end table next to her favorite chair (with a coaster of course) and got into position.

Settling on my knees just past the door, I smoothed my skirt and used a pocket mirror to check my make-up one more time. Perfect! Now I just had to wait.

I felt a little hurt when I thought about her and Chad. I didn't exactly begrudge her having a man; clearly I couldn't fulfill the normal role of a husband now. She was always a very sexual woman. I had just mistakenly hoped that my tongue would be enough. But still, she could have at least told me.