Wear Her Panties and Clean Up Her Cum Filled Pussy

She has that look in her eyes tonight—the one that makes your heart race and your cock ache even before she says a word. She smiles slowly, knowingly, spreading her legs wider on the bed, still flushed from the hard, deep fuck she just enjoyed. Her pussy is slick, swollen, dripping with another man’s cum. And she knows exactly what she wants you to do about it.

“Take them,” she says, tossing her panties at you. They’re damp, warm, and unmistakably messy from being pressed tight against her used cunt. She watches as you unfold them, the smell of sex hitting you hard—her arousal, his load, all mixing in the fabric. She wants them on you. Wants to see you humiliated, submissive, hers in every sense.

You hesitate for a moment, but the command in her eyes is impossible to ignore. You slide them up over your cock and balls, feeling the sticky dampness clinging to your skin, the warmth of her fresh mess smearing onto you. Your face burns. She smiles wider. She loves this part.

She leans back, knees spread, fingers idly stroking her slippery, well-fucked lips. Cum oozes out slowly, wetting her thighs. She beckons you closer. “Clean me.” The word hits you like a slap and a caress all at once. You know what she means—no towels, no wipes. She wants your mouth.

You bury your face between her legs. The panties she made you wear tighten around you with every move, pressing that sticky warmth against your cock and balls, a constant reminder that you’re wearing her mess while tasting his. Her pussy is hot, soaked with the load he pumped into her. It’s salty, musky, slick on your tongue. She sighs in pleasure, pushing your face in deeper. She moans softly when you lap more eagerly, humiliating yourself for her approval.

Your cock throbs uselessly in her dirty panties, denied any real friction or release except the perverse thrill of submission. She runs her fingers through your hair, holding you down as you drink and lick every drop of their mingled cum from her. She wants it clean. She wants it worshipped. She wants you thoroughly broken to this.

She might talk to you while you do it. Whisper about how big he was, how hard he made her cum, how you could never satisfy her like that. Maybe she praises you, too, for being such a good, obedient slut. She might push you back for a second to admire the wet stain on your borrowed panties, her juices and his load smearing all over you. Then she guides you right back in.

When you’re finished, she makes you stay in those panties. Maybe you jerk yourself off in them, humping into that dirty, messy fabric while she watches, mocking you. Or maybe she forbids you from cumming at all—says you don’t get to finish when real men do the fucking.

This is her game. Her rules. You exist to clean up after the real action is done. To savor every drop left behind. To know she is meant to be shared, bred, used, and you are there to serve her and keep her satisfied.

And you love it, don’t you? You crave it. The smell, the taste, the shame, the heat of her approving gaze while you lick her clean. The way she uses you as her personal cum rag, her obedient little slut in stained panties.

You will do it again. And again. Every time she comes home filled, you will wait. You will wear what she tells you to wear. You will clean her the way she commands. And you’ll thank her for letting you.

Because in this twisted, intimate ritual, you’re exactly what you’re meant to be. Hers.