Hard to Leave

It was early Sunday afternoon and I was in somewhat of a hurry.

I'd just been dropped home by a friend from a bike ride that lasted somewhat longer than planned - and now I needed to get showered, dressed, and out the door again quickly if I was going to make it in time for a concert performance that I'd promised to attend. So once inside the front door, I shed bike and gear in all directions, raced into the bedroom, pulled off my riding clothes and was into the shower. Normally a nice, longish warm shower is one of the highlights after cycling, but that was not a luxury the time would allow today.

Once I had finished showering and was reaching for a towel, DW offered to help by getting some clothes ready and in fact, had already retrieved a some jeans and a belt, shirt and jacket from the wardrobe and laid them out on to the bed for me. Then, as I continued rapidly toweling off, she headed for the chest of drawers to get some socks and underwear. After finding some socks in one drawer, her hand hovered for a moment over my underwear drawer, but then ominously moved down one level to the punishment panty drawer. As DW pulled it open she asked, "What colour are Sunday's panties?"

I thought for a moment and answered "umm... white, I think". As the drawer contains two sets of day-of-the-week panties, one that is all white and the other multicoloured, DW had to start sorting through the white pairs. "Let's see, that's Monday, Wednesday, Friday, ...ah Sunday", she said holding them up by the waist with both hands, "Oh, and look they also have a little butterfly embroidered on the front. I would just like to be sure that you're thinking of me while at the concert this afternoon."


By that time I'd already put on my socks and shirt, so once DW handed me Sunday's panties, I had little choice but to pull them on as quickly as possible - and to try and ignore the fact that I was definitely starting to get quite hard. Meanwhile, DW sat herself down on the side of the bed and set about tidying the punishment panty drawer. All of the panties had been pulled out onto the bed, and DW was examining each pair, carefully folding them in halves and returning them to the drawer - that was, until she noticed the all too evident bulge in my knickers that was about to be covered by my half raised jeans. With an exclamation she jumped up from the bed and wrapped her warm hand around the now bulging "Sunday" and embroidered butterfly. "Now that's what I really enjoy seeing - hmmmm...".

After she reluctantly withdrew her hand, I had the difficulty of zipping my now even tighter jeans and just managed to do up the top button over the top of my now solid hard-on. The just as obvious bulge in my jeans prompted more comments from DW - "so you managed to get them done up then - such a nice bulge". Fortunately no other family members were around as I made my way toward the front door, my state of arousal then being further reinforced by a very passionate goodbye kiss from DW. I was well down the road before the strained swelling in my jeans finally eased.

That night, as I climbed into bed still wearing Sunday's panties, DW reached down to rub her hands over them once again -"you can take them off if you like, you're not 'on notice'. I just wanted to know that I'd be on your mind. From what followed, I'd say it was pretty obvious that she had been.