Can You Patch The Inner Thigh Of Jeans Novels & Stories

“The jeans have to come off. Can you just magic them off the way they came on?” He shook his head. “Not now. Not even to show off.” She weighed the difficulties in getting a pair of jeans off and picked up the scissors she’d used on his T-shirt. They’d been nice and sharp and they cut through the tough denim as easily as they’d cut through the shirt, leaving him in a pair of dark green boxers. “I hope you’ve got a good surface on this floor,” she murmured to help distance herself from the wound. “Be a shame to stain it.”

After an impatient yank, it finally surrendered, and a pair of faded, torn jeans exploded forth, nearly smacking me in the face. Choosing the absurdly tiny bathroom to change in just in case Adam came back, I pulled on the shirt, feeling the snugness across my shoulders—a reminder that I was broader than Adam. The jeans settled onto my hips, just loose enough to provide comfort while still clinging to my frame. However, their length was a problem; they hung considerably lower than they should have, pooling around my ankles like a gentle reminder of their former owner. Yet, I didn't mind the way they dragged.

I told her “Put on one of your jeans let's see” she said “How would that-” “Just put it on” she cut in “You haven't had any jeans on, you are mostly in sweats, shorts, and leggings" she explained I grabbed the first pair of jeans my hand touched and proceeded to put in on. I was surprised when I put my first leg in and it slipped in easily without me having to struggle. I quickly put in the second leg and the waist was so big that if I let it go it would drop.

When there had been no extra money for anything, I figured out how creative and motivated I am. "Pink shoes we got," I hold them up. "But what else?" She thinks for a moment, her expression pensive. "Jeans like yours." I look down seeing my jeans with the hole in the knee. I guess I should thank my lucky stars that deconstructed jeans are now a thing. These are just so old they're falling apart, but everyone thinks I spent a hundred bucks on them. "Okay girlfriend, go grab them," I hold up the red flannel shirt I'm going to wear over my gray t-shirt. "Grab your pink flannel too. We'll be matchy."

Or leather perhaps. Fingers manoeuvre over my inner thigh, adjusting and positioning before, with shocking suddenness, gripping my left pussy lip, clamping something into place, pinching at the flesh… Reflexively, I holler at the sting… "Aahhh…" Another adjustment at the strap on my thigh and the lip tugs sidelong, draws tight… "Aaaahhhh!!!" "Gorgeous… Now the other to match." Busy fingers work around my other thigh before repeating the performance on my right lip, stretching it too off to the side to leave my pussy, already open, now gaping.

I'm surprised she hasn't turned my entire closet into hers by now. " It doesn't look like it'd fit though. It seems like it's on the smaller side. Those can't get through these "thick thighs" as you called them" I'm skeptical about it. The jeans look like they'll rip the moment I put it through one of my legs. "Trust me on this," He says and I decided to try it out at least. And it fits. It actually fits and is comfortable. "How did you know this? How? Is this sorcery?" I'm surprised that such a skinny-looking jean will fit.

The jean trouser was still halfway through my thighs and suffice to say that my butt was hanging out in the most awkward way. There was no way I was letting him see me this way!! "No please don't! Don't open the door yet!" I yelled. He quickly obeyed and closed the door back. Gosh! This day was turning out to be a nightmare. After a couple more struggles and tug of wag with my jeans, it finally passed through my thighs and I fastened it in place. I quickly glanced at a standing mirror in the huge room and I certainly looked like a mess…. Well that's not a new thing I guess.

The neckline was high, too, almost up to my chin, shielding me from prying eyes. The jeans were equally comfortable, made of stretchy denim that hugged my curves without feeling tight or restrictive. They were a faded blue, with a slight flare at the bottom, giving me a casual yet stylish look. I slipped them on,pulledg them up over my hips, and fastened the button with a sigh of relief.

Rowena writhed against him, riding the ridge of his erection and driving them both insane. “The jeans,” he said. “The jeans they have to go!” Pushing her up on her knees, Heath fought the wet denim until it finally bunched down her thighs. It probably would have made things easier if he’d taken the time to pull them off completely, but the throbbing at the apex of his thighs wouldn’t wait. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was busy herself, tearing at his own zipper. She had him freed in a matter of seconds, and before Heath could utter a word, dropped back down, taking him fully inside.

RHEA I stood in front of my closet, staring at rows of clothes that suddenly seemed impossible to navigate. Every movement sent sharp reminders through my body of what had happened last night. My thighs ached. My back stung where the bark had scraped it raw. And between my legs—God, between my legs felt like I’d been split in half. I reached for my usual jeans and immediately reconsidered. Denim would be torture. I grabbed a loose cotton skirt instead, something that wouldn’t press against anything tender. A soft sweater that wouldn’t irritate my back.