Let Me Hand-Wash Your Panties

LET ME HAND-WASH YOUR PANTIES

Let me hand-wash your panties … your frilly feminine loin cloth
Allows me to cleanse your pussy-girdle of its pre-orgasmic broth
Am I willing to get that extra step … yes ma’am
Washing form the fabric the secretions of your sweaty clam
Before soaking, I take a sniff of the scent in the fabric, ingrained
I smell the same smell that has my fingers naughtily stained
I smell ‘em, balled up, bunched, crunched, folded and tucked
I smell the scent of a pussy after just being finger fucked
I smell the smell of foreplay initiated with a thought
That ended in bliss, with an original climax that couldn’t be taught
That had me dancing to your rhythm as we tossed and turned
Adding the flavor of sex, some things that I’ve learned
As I prepare to soak your panties and then proceed to wash
In warm shallow water that will soon slide and slosh
I’m momentarily paralyzed, stuck in thoughts of motions slow
Entranced by the happenings of a few moments ago

Let me hand-wash your panties … the cradle for your crotch
Let me hand-wash this particular piece of undergarment for which I keep watch
An anchor for my sights that had me held captive
A temptation and diversion for the sexually active
My hands are stirred in the wash … and in the rinse
Holding in my grasp, a wet pair of panties, taken from against -
The flesh of an aroused and excited female whose talents are unspoiled
The very reason for the hand-washing of your panties … of your juices, they’ve been soiled
I flashback to a sight that makes me a mellow maverick
The sight of the shape your pussy takes, showing thought the cotton fabric
Puckering lips pressed behind a cotton crotch, a visual from which I wouldn’t dwarf
Outlined like the lips of a bandit whose face is hidden behinds a scarf
As I squeeze and release your skivvies in the wash, I imagine what our get-togethers do to us
Longing to again play with your lips and get inside of your uterus
With numerous mental images that makes my inner man cry
Taking a sigh … as I ring your panties dry

Let me hand-wash your panties, your fitted shrouds of which I speak
Let me wash that certain garment scented with the essence of a freak
The saddle for your coochie of which other garments haven’t been to
Specially fitted to the form of the vagina I love to get into
Personal conjugal congregation … a private party of two
Closed and intimate fuck sessions that involve just me and you
I’m all over your body like the shoulders of an old woman covered by a shawl
I’m all over your ass like paint on a painted wall
As I wash your undies to their state of cleansed restoration
I flash back to fucking you with a measure of desperation
Pushing through the lips of you pussy as if it’s been a long time, and I missed them
Aroused and horny as fuck, I had to get it out of my system
Full frontal intercourse that puts me on a natural high
Forehead to forehead, we look each other in the eye
Moving like a choreographed dance, just rehearsed
In this sexual stand off, we fuck just to see who cums first

Let me hand-wash your panties … you know, the ones with the crotch you slid to the side
When you momentarily masturbated yourself and let me make my way inside
Lifting your leg … uncovering your center place
Revealing your pink passion … exposing your inner space
My reaction is opposite that of a child who realizes the candy’s gone
Indulging in one of a few times we do it with your panties on
Pacing the repeated penetration progressing smoothly as we make it
Taking exception to not being totally and completely naked
We stir up a motion, amidst the moans, grunts and swearing
Dancing at the hip – fucking you in your panties that you’re wearing
My scepter moving in and out of your vault, like a bad girl sucking on a candy cane
You tense up as your squirt, and your panties smear the cum stain
Coming down from the climax the rhythm grinds to a halt
You tremble for a time like that activity along the lines of an active earthquake fault
After your quivering calms down and I exit your space
You hand me your panties, with a smile on your face

Let me hand-wash your panties … the ones you slid down and around your ass
Guiding my dick inside your shrine … your celebrated vaginal pass
Yes … I want to hand-wash that particular pair
The ones you were wearing when you nutted on my private parts and your underwear
I recount the moments when you were ass up and face down
Your panties down to where your ass met the back of your thighs made for a nice visual noun
As I penetrated a poked out pussy from among plump gluteal lobes
Constant flashbacks of that moment in my memory, strobes
At times I can’t stay neutral like the inert and neutral gas of argon
I take momentary breaks from scrubbing your panties because of numerous, fabulous hard-on’s
Memories cause me to throb as I hold your underwear in hand
So vivid are the moments in my mind, I almost bus’ a nut where I stand
I move in and out of you and literally ‘tap that ass’
We sound like a one man clap in a room with no one to harass
And we do this until you cum, releasing liquid treasure from your girlish coffers
This culminating ejaculation is what inspires my original offer

Let me hand-wash your panties … the ones you wet when you creamed your thighs
The ones I had an opportunity to touch as you sere still wearing them, swirling your surprise
As flowers planted in a garden, on your body you accept kisses as I plant these
All the while I’m masturbating you through your panties
The undulation of your hips confirms that you indeed enjoy -
The methods of lingual and digital stimulation that I employ
As I caress, manipulate and massage the anatomy of your feminine notch
Feeling the flesh that lies covered behind your panties’ crotch
I feel heat and I feel moisture … I hear you moan and hum
I feel a climax adding up within you, of which I’m waiting for the sum
The scents and sounds of pleasure are stirring and I can almost taste it … yum
A soft cry accompanied with anticipated wet spot … evidence of cum
It is as this time that you swirl yourself in the creases of your vaginal cut
You take over the masturbation of your genitals and the completion of your ‘nut
Only after you finish wiggling and squirming, and playing with your female squash
Do I proceed to remove your panties, take them to the sink, and wash

Let me hand-wash your panties … the ones that you lost in between the sheets
The ones we both swore were down and around your feet
Doing a little more than getting freaky with a rhythm and a flow
How they ended up hanging on the headboard, neither of us know
After having had drove into you, like pulling into cut out drive ways
Fucking you from the front and the back … and even sideways
Caught up in a moment where we were both humbled, tamed and tossed
It was only afterwards that we discovered your panties were lost
Tracing our movements to the moments prior
Our bodies and bed sheets tossed around like articles in the washing machine and the dryer
Pushing the limits of our freakiness making sure that no one would out-stage us
Your panties resting on the headboard testifies of movements, energetic and outrageous
Loose and aired out, they still carry your scent
The soft smell of pussy and sweet ass combined, compels me to the extent -
That I make my offer to wash that which has my senses bound
Let me hand wash those panties recovered in our sexual lost and found

Let me hand-wash your panties … the ones that make their periodic falls
Let me put it another way … let me hand-wash your dirty drawls
More than happy to do so, I wash ‘em gregariously
As I play with your pussy – vicariously
Wet underwear in my hands among the warm water and detergent
I flash back to the moments when our sexual tensions were insurgent
Stressed as tight as a guitar string that one would pluck
We just slid off our bottoms and proceeded to fuck
As I hand scrub your undergarments with the moist fabric at my command
I hold them as I held the cheeks of your ass in the palms of my hand
I held on to you as we recoiled repeatedly from thrust and forceful movements
Each stroke better than the last … each push and lunge, a marked improvement
There is a guilty pleasure that from this washing, I glean
Derived from hand-washing each pair of your panties clean
Upon ringing ‘em dry … my eyelids close
As I put the crotch of each pair up to my nose

Written by: K-JiO
© 2007