She must have guessed my assumption, for as I knelt before her she shook her head.  “No, no,” she told me.  “Only my husband’s mouth may touch my vagina.”

She stood up, reached under her skirt and removed the panties, not even giving me a flash of her pussy.  As she sat back down, she held the panty with one finger.

I was on my knees staring at it, and could see the yellow spot clearly now.  If licking her urine wasn’t degrading enough, she made me beg to do it. 

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to clean your panties.”

 This didn’t satisfy her.

I said, “Please allow me to clean your panties with my mouth.  Please allow me to lick the piss from them.”

“You may,” she said and laughed.  When she tossed the damp underwear at my face, I caught them with my mouth, like a dog fetching a Frisbee.  I took them in my hands, and stretched them to examine the stain on the inside crotch.

Lifting it to my face I smelled the acidic aroma of urine.  I had never done anything like this before, but at that moment I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.  I stuck out my tongue and tasted her pee stain.

“My husband would never clean soiled underwear.” She stared at me, enjoying the show I was giving her.  “He would never put piss in his mouth.”

But I would. 

I would do anything for her, even taste her piss. 

To better clean her panty, I shoved a few inches of fabric into my mouth and started to suck the urine out.  I did this it for a few minutes, and when finished, it looked like the urine stain was gone.  I handed it to her for her inspection.

She said  “You can’t expect me to wear them after they’ve been in your filthy mouth.  Throw them away.”

I was confused, but followed her order.  I crawled over to the trash basket.  I placed the panties in the garbage can, carefully tucking them in the bottom of the trash so no one would see them.