Little Miss Creamypants Wears Cotton for Jesus
I have one that’s heather grey. It’s been washed so many times that my freckles show through its fabric. It’s also super-stretchy and it makes my boobs look particularly bouncy when I wear it braless.
Which is how I was on Monday afternoon when Kelly was above me on the bed, rubbing his cock against my white cotton panties and kissing my mouth and neck.
There’s this desperateness when Kelly and I fuck, like we’ve been apart for months and we don’t know when we’ll see each other again. Every time. He is instantly hard, I want to suck his dick for hours and we consistently manage to go from blowjob to sex to other activities involving toys or my ass or c) all of the above—while his cock remains erect. For at least two orgasms. His, not mine. I get more, because I’m drawn that way. He grabs my ass, I grab the back of his neck and it’s always impressive, usually resulting in us congratulating ourselves on an amazing fuck.
I adore fucking Kelly.
And when he was rubbing my clit through my panties with his cock, he looked down at me and pinched a nipple through my t-shirt. Then he licked it and sucked it and bit it and I yelped. He said, “Is this okay?” in this fakey, worried sort of tone that he uses when we’re doing it. So I play along.
“It feels so good…but I’ve never done this before…but we should stop…I made a Purity Pledge,” I barely say, before cracking up and tugging on his balls.
“As long as your panties stay on, baby, you won’t break your pledge,” he said, hips pushing his cock directly over my clit. I swear, it was the hottest thing ever. As soon as he said it, I could smell my scent between us, the tangycreamysaltiness of it and the cotton went wet and immediately cold in the air conditioning.
So of course, I came in my panties. Creamed myself. Soaked to his boner.
Kelly reached down and pulled the elastic aside and slid his dick partway into me.
“It’s okay, your panties are still on,”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, and grabbed his ass and pulled him completely inside.
After we'd showered and I was getting dressed, I picked up the panties that had been flung at some point across the room, dashing any remaining shreds of virginal purity I might have had. They were still damp. And cold. I held them to my face and inhaled.
I think I never want to wash them.