Fluffy Shorts Novels & Stories

I smile down at her, “you’re not crazy, or at least no more than the rest of us.” Leading her out the house, I look down at myself for a second… “uhm, Tara?” I ask a bit unsure, “these shorts, uhm… do you want to keep them?” She starts laughing, a full on belly laugh, tears forming in her eyes. “Hahahahaha! NO, they’re way too short, I only gave them to you out of spite.” Her giggles filling the humid afternoon air, I just shake my head and push my wolf forward, tearing the pink fabric to shreds in the process.

She is looking at me with a mischievous grin on her face, "Didn't you say he liked your pajama shorts?" "The slutty little shorts?" Clara repeats with a teasing laugh and I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment for a second, momentarily regretting being so open and telling them that part of our moments together. And by the way, those slutty shorts are still somewhere in his house, "They’re fine Andy, it's springtime. Besides, Edison is an omega too and won't be creepy.”

Those tiny black cotton shorts rode up high, the hem digging into the soft flesh of her ass cheeks. With deliberate movements, she reached back with both hands, hooked her thumbs into the waistband, and peeled the shorts down inch by torturous inch. The fabric slid over the full globes of her ass, revealing smooth, pale skin with a light tan line from her bikini. She kept going until the shorts pooled at her ankles, then kicked them aside.

It says. I just frowned at what he said. "The demanding! just don't dress. " I said angrily, that made him smile playfully. "You can do that, but only here at home." "Stop! You're not helping." He can't help it. So at last, I also chose. Luckily, the high waist shorts I chose fit, she is not that short. i paired it with white blouse and flats. After tidying up, I called Kez to say I was leaving, when I got the response to go, I also went down to leave.

"Now where were we?" I nibbled her neck and ran my hands up her sides. She was wearing some kind of terry cloth shorts that I'm sure I'd seen on a sitcom when I was a kid. The kind that hugs her ass and curves around her hips and thighs. And since she was still a little plump from giving birth to my babies she was busting outta the shits.

Audrey was pretty wild during her senior year at college. She slept around, although with little satisfaction, and befriended a more "loose" group of girls. As a result, she had acquired lots of sexy clothes she would wear to frat parties and to classes that had cute guys in them. Short skirts, short-shorts, micro-thin nearly see-through yoga pants and leggings, and tight, thin T-shirts (some were even see-through). She rarely wore them around the house simply because she figured her dad would object to them and tell her to change.

"Seen that one before, so no." She blushed. The next one was a matching set of a shirt and short bottoms. She liked it. It looked classy. "You look like you're going to work at a bank, no." "Who would wear shorts this short to work?" she asked incredulously. "If I tilt over a little, you'd be staring right up my a*s!" "Hmm, tempting as that sounds, it's still a no for the party." She returned into the dressing room, furious. The next outfit was an armless silver two-piece that had small ruffles across the bottom and shoulders. The skirt stopped mid-calf.

It has helped tremendously and they no longer affect me. "You look nice," He compliments as he takes in my appearance and I see his eyes flash signaling Ash has peeked through his eyes to see me as well. I am wearing jean shorts that are a little short and a little too tight from my weight gain, a loose white wide shoulder tank top with no bra, and my hair is still damp and air drying from my shower. No shoes, because who needs shoes when you are stuck inside.

“Paul not back yet?” “He had to run an errand,” I said softly, biting my lower lip. I was wearing exactly what I’d planned – a thin white tank top with no bra, my nipples already visibly hard against the fabric, and tiny grey cotton shorts that rode up my ass with every step. I turned slowly to “tidy” the coffee table, giving him a long look at my body. I flirted shamelessly. Light touches on his arm, laughing at his jokes, bending over just enough for the shorts to climb higher. After twenty minutes of this tension, I saw my opening.

It’s too cold to wear shorts. He stands in front of his side of their large closet, just his shirt and underwear on, and jumps slightly in surprise when Dallas comes up behind him to grab his waist. “Can’t decide?” Dallas asks. Clearly he knows Ford too well. He slips his hands under Ford’s shirt to check which underwear he’s got on. They’re nothing exciting, really. Just his black boy-short panties. When he’d bought them, they’d both had a good laugh at the name—somehow the style of underwear made popular for women based on the design of men’s brief shorts had made a full circle, turning into a more feminine-style adjusted back to accommodate the male body.