Crusty Thong Novels & Stories

Chapter 2: FLASHING MY STRICT PROFESSOR AND GETTING MY PUSSY SCISSOR-FUCKED ON HIS DESK The next morning, I stand in front of my mirror adjusting my school uniform over the sheer black lace set I bought yesterday. The crotchless thong rubs deliciously against my already swollen clit with every movement. No bra — just the barely-there lace top that lets my heavy tits bounce freely, my hard nipples clearly visible if the light hits right. I’m soaked before I even leave the house. My inner thighs are already slick with anticipation.

Stopping outside it, I lean closer and bite back a groan when I hear water sloshing around mixed with her soft moans. Without even thinking I’m unbuckling my pants and unleashing my cock. I see her open suitcase by my feet with her clothes tossed around inside from where she’d dug through it trying to find something to wear. A lacy pink thong catches my eye, and I grab it, bringing it to my cock so I can jerk off with it.

Callum Johnson (P.O.V.) Her firm a*s-cheeks were round and full enough to engulf the string of her miniscule thong in her deep a*s-crack, the tiny material disappearing between the fleshy mounds. The thin black, lacy thong showcased her mouthwatering rear-end perfectly, framing it, showcasing its shape. The thin material dug in slightly into her smooth flesh lightly, the small straps of the tiny thong drawn tightly against her body. The straps hugged the upper edge of her butt cheeks, meeting at the triangle of material at the cleft of her a*s-crack. And above the thong was her tramp stamp, a tattoo of some green, thorny vines, roses bursting out from it. The tattoo not out of place on the i

Amara replied before kneeling and packing all the different colours of nail paints into the nails bag, she rolled her eyes as she made to stand up. "Duh, tell me something I don't know abeg. And you're going out with someone that doesn't have sense, sebi? Goat following fowl." He threw back savagely. I don't know if it's only me that have a bunch of stupid friends who take sweet pleasure in dissing and savaging each other. My friends are so dumb, very dumb sometimes. Standing beside my closet, I pulled out a white thigh length gown and my black curly wig, setting them down on the bed I took the bag I wore to school today, that's what I'm gonna be wearing tonight.

She giggled and pulled him in for a hug not without casting me a dirty look and flicks her gaze to him. The bitch wore a black thong and small boob clothing to cover her nipples because she was bug busted with a huge ass and tiny legs with her full lips and high cheek bones filled with heavy make up. There was no way in hell she wasn't botched and didn't have a plastic surgeon attending to her body every visit.

My pulse hammers in my throat, my ears, between my legs. Every muscle in me goes rigid, ready to claim. She’s stripped down to almost nothing. The fur jacket is long gone. Her rich brown skin shines under the lights, begging to be touched, licked, marked. The black bikini is a fucking joke—tiny triangles barely covering her full tits, thin straps digging into her soft curves, fabric pulled so tight over her nipples they’re hard points pushing through. The thong rides low on her hips, cutting high, showing off the perfect round of her ass and the smooth line between her thighs.

She hands it to me with a devious grin on her face. I open the bag and gasp, while I feel my eyes almost bug out of my head. My eyes scan the contents of the bag: I see lace, silk, strings, and glitter. Underwear. Wait, no. None of these counts as underwear. These are butt floss and cheek chillers. How am I supposed to comfortably walk while wearing any of these? I thought to myself as I pulled out a black, lacy thong.

“Isn’t this going way too far?” Vivian gasped, scandalized, and dug deeper into the box. “Ohhh, honey. They didn’t just send a dress. They sent the whole damn package.” Anna’s eyes widened. “Vivian!” Vivian pulled out a scrap of black lace, tangled with thin straps. She held it up like she’d just discovered the Holy Grail. “Behold.” It was a thong—barely-there lace trimmed with thin leather straps that buckled like miniature harnesses.

The thong was made of white lace, tied at the sides with turquoise satin ribbons. Alessandro had an expression of wonder as he looked at my body. He came closer and with a subtle touch, his fingers unhooked the garter from my stockings and he began to unbutton my corset, hook by hook. He tried not to touch me, but every time my chest rose with my breath, I felt his knuckles brush my skin and heard him sigh; it made my skin crawl and all my nerve endings were on fire.

Charlotte’s ass was still presented high, back arched deeply. The tiny red thong was completely soaked dark and clinging transparently to her meaty, swollen cunt lips. Her puffy outer lips were visibly throbbing. The thin fabric stretched tight over her dripping slit, a steady trickle of her juices running down her thick thighs. Leo hooked two fingers under the thin strip of the thong and yanked it roughly to the side, fully exposing her glistening, needy pussy. The sight made his cock twitch violently. Her cunt was puffy, dark and engorged, inner lips flushed dark pink, begging, clenching and fluttering openly as if begging to be filled.