Morning Visit

You walked out of the bedroom, naked but for a pair of white satin panties. You paused when you saw your wife and her boyfriend kissing, felt yourself swell in your cage, feeling the familiar rush of emotions, sexual excitement mixed with jealousy. Her hand was on his shoulder, his around her waist, gripping her ass.

You and your wife planned to run some errands when he texted this morning. "My golf foursome fell apart, I'm going to stop by this morning if you're free."

Your wife showed you the text and saw the hint of disappointment on your face. "I thought we had to run errands," you said.

"You know I can't tell him no," she said, touching your arm. "We agreed."

"I...I know," you said, watching her respond to his text.

Of course I'm free, what time?

Ten minutes.

"Oh, dear," she said, seeing his response. "I hope you have clean panties."

You blushed, thinking of the top drawer of your dresser, the one where you kept them, panties, your panties, the one you wore when he was with her, something he'd insisted on. "I...I always keep some clean," you said.

"Well you'd better put a pair on and change the sheets."

"They're just going to get dirty," you said.

"Hon, don't," she said, touching you again. "It's part of it, making him feel at home."

"I...I know," you said.

Seeing you come from the bedroom, he broke of the kiss, looked at you. You swallowed. "The...the room is ready, Sir," you said, softly, eyes down, enough to avoid direct eye contact, but not so much you couldn't see him touch her. 

He was squeezing her firm ass, obviously appreciating the work she put in the gym. "Good boy," he said without looking at you. "He's doing better," he said to your wife.

Your wife looked over at you, not without sympathy. You knew how she felt in that moment, you two had talked about it. You knew how she felt, seeing you caged and in panties, getting things ready for her and her lover, knew how she felt seeing you while in his arms. Knew the contrast. Seeing her pantied, submissive husband while in the arms of her strong, masculine lover. 

"He's doing it intentionally, I know that," she said, "but knowing it doesn't change how powerful it is."

He set up the contrast between him and you and staked the masculine role while assigning you a more feminine role. "I feel more like you're girlfriend than your husband," you told her once after you were intimate with her.

"Is that so bad?" she'd giggled, still glowing from the hour long orgasm you'd given her with your mouth and your hands.

You thought about it in that moment, knew that after he left, you'd do the thing you always told yourself you'd stop doing. That after he left you'd make love to her the other way she liked. That after she'd been with a man, you'd be the other, the tender lover, kissing her, licking her, pampering her, reverently cleaning the mess he left.