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My Wife’s Blue Panties

by Master SHANGO about a month ago in fiction
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My wife wasn't home, but she left me something worth watching.

© Derek Audette |

The time was 6:12 pm by my watch when I cruised into my driveway and turned off my car engine. I sat there with my hands wrapped around the steering wheel, savouring the quiet moment. I looked across the yard at my house, almost expecting the door to open and it would be Angie coming to welcome me home. Foolish thinking, I know. Angie seldom displayed unabashed affection, especially in public. But one can only dream sometimes.

I unclipped my seatbelt, grabbed my briefcase, and alighted from the car. I hung my jacket over my shoulder and was halfway to my house when something occurred to me, and I went instead to our mailbox. I opened it and saw a square-shaped box inside.  The box no stamps or address; that seemed odd.  I stopped to look everywhere, like I expected to see some kid lurking behind my neighbour’s yard, ready to spring forth and laugh at the poor attempt at a prank.  I waited, and still, nobody appeared from anywhere.  I retrieved the box, closed the lid, and then got to my house and let myself inside.

“Hiya, Angie!” I hollered as I shut the front door behind me.  “Honey, I’m home!”

Nothing except silence greeted me.  I entered the living room and found it empty. Angie was usually home before me; this was odd.  I left my jacket, including the brown box, on a couch, and then investigated the rest of the house.  The kitchen was neat and empty.  I grabbed an apple out of the fridge and ate it while returning to get my jacket.  

The brown box fell to the floor when I picked up my jacket.  I picked it up and shook it.  But there was something inside. 

I was halfway up the stairs when my phone started ringing.  I half-expected it to be Angie wanting to share whatever was preoccupying her time from getting home but frowned when I saw it was an unlisted number instead.  I pressed the ANS button and muttered hello.

A man’s voice replied: “Have you opened my box yet?”

“Who is this?  Is this some sort of joke?”

“Open my present that I left you in your mailbox.  I’ll call back soon.”

The line went dead after that.  I hurried towards the bedroom, fearing the worse.

The bedroom was empty, and seeing it did little to remove the scary feeling I was having. Thoughts of Angie being kidnapped played in my head. I looked in the closet and found her clothes and shoes still as they were. Nothing was missing in the bathroom either. Angie’s toothbrush was where it had always been, right next to mine.

I discarded my jacket and then proceeded to open the box. I was stunned at the only item it contained: a pair of Angie’s blue panties.

My phone rang again, as if on cue, by the same unlisted number. This time, I wasn’t playing nice.

“Who are you, and what is it that you want?”

“What I want, I have already. Ain’t you curious as to where your wife’s at?”

“Where is Angie? What have you done with my wife?”

The voice gave a burst of harsh laughter. Whoever it was, the bastard was testing my patience.

“Ain’t nobody getting kidnapped, fool. Go over to your living room. There’s something in your DVD that your wife wants you to see.”

“Hey, who the fuck are y—”

Too late; the call had ended.

I loosened my shirt and then went downstairs to look in the DVD machine. I pressed the EJECT button and saw a disc in the player slot with the words WATCH ME! written on it. The fuck sort of Twilight Zone episode was I living through, I wondered.

I pressed the PLAY button and switched on the wide-screen TV, then took two steps back to see what happened.

The screen presented a reverse countdown: 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . and then:

A camera came on, revealing a black man wearing a hideous-type mask. He was standing in a bedroom, though it was too bare like a hotel room, which I soon found out it was. The man—whoever he was—was addressing me in a casual-mannered voice.

"How're you doing, Jeffery? You don't mind me calling you Jeff, do you? If you're watching this, chances are you've found the package I left in your mailbox. The one that's got a personal item from your wife. Speaking of your wife, I know you’d like to see her—”

The man turned the camera to capture a naked woman coming out of the bathroom. It was Angie, except she looked different. Her shoulder-length red hair had been cut into the shape of a pageboy, making her look younger. Angie came and hugged the masked man and kissed his cheek.

“Your wife, Angie, has told me a lot about you, Jeff. She says you ain’t been man enough to hold it down. That’s because you’ve been giving all your loving to some other bitch.” The man turned to Angie and said: “You wanna tell him who the culprit is?”

Angie gazed into the camera—her eyes held mine—then she said: “You remember my best friend, Sheryl? Of course, you do. Sheryl told me about how she’s caught you having lunch with that blonde bimbo secretary of yours. Wasn’t once, and it wasn’t twice. This was some weeks ago that she told me. I hired a private eye to trail after you, and now I’ve got all the evidence I need to bury your ass if I want.”

The masked man stood the camera somewhere so it focused on him and Angie, who now sat on the bed. The man stood beside her, and I watched as he offered his hard-on to her. Angie licked his cock several times before continuing from where she had left off.

“You can consider this as my revenge statement,” she said. “You’re gonna get mad, I know that, but I don’t fucking care, Jeff. You’ve had this coming for weeks, which is why I’m strictly making this tape for you.”

Angie then focused on sucking the masked man’s cock. The masked man appeared to enjoy himself to the end. Several times he looked towards the camera—more like he was looking at me—and gave a thumb’s up sign before placing his hand on Angie’s head, guiding her to ingest more of his cock.

I was mesmerised and flabbergasted beyond words. I was also angry and contemplated switching off the TV, except for some bizarre and unexplainable reason, I continued to watch. I sat on the centre table, cradling the remote between my legs as I watched Angie gorge herself on the man’s sturdy penis. The man laid her on the bed, and then he got to eat her pussy, after which he implanted that huge prick into my wife’s vagina. I must have winced when he rammed into her; Angie cried aloud when that happened.

I never heard when the front door opened, and Angie quietly came and joined me in the living room. I was so engrossed in what I was watching that it took a while of me inhaling her perfume before I realised I wasn’t alone in the room.

“Hi, honey,” she smiled. “You got my panties?”

* * *

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