Kat Dennings Thong Novels & Stories

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.

She nodded. "Okay, babe, take your clothes off. I have a bikini top and thong that'll be perfect for you." I disrobed until I was naked. When she turned back, she stared and said, "Wow, wow." She put her hands on her hips. "Holy hell. I'm a D. You must be DD. You're going to rake it in just because of that rack." She tied it behind and around my neck. I looked down, and the tiny triangles barely covered my nipples. For a fleeting moment, I thought about backing out. I stepped into the thong, and she straightened it at my hips.

But when they turned me to the full-length mirror I froze. Different. Completely. Skin glowed. Curves looked sharper. Waist smaller. Hips rounder. Breasts higher. Face… fierce. Beautiful. Like someone who belonged in magazines or on stages. Not me. But me. Kim K clapped slow. “Kim K approves. Now. Dresses.” He pulled racks from a closet. Black. Red. Silver. Tiny things. Strings. Cutouts. He picked three. Threw them at me. “Try.” First one black. Lace. Thong built in. Bra that was basically two triangles. I slipped it on. Straps thin. Back open. Heels next. Black. Six inches. Strappy. I wobbled when I stood.

m. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my apartment, heart hammering, pussy already soaked. The tiny black dress I’d chosen was pure sin—micro-short, backless, the neckline plunging so deep between my heavy tits that my nipples were barely covered by two thin strips of fabric. No bra. No panties except a tiny red lace thong that was already drenched and wedged between my swollen pussy lips. Sheer black thigh-high stockings clung to my thick thighs, clipped to a garter belt that framed my ass like a gift.

“You might need to help me, Kenna. Are these fucking sprayed on jeans?” She giggles, it sounds adorable. “Here, let me.” I let her push them down then watch as she steps out of them, exposing a white lace thong. Fuck me, the woman is hot as sin and hell together. My dick is ready to explode at just the sight of the strip of white lace between her buttocks that I want to bite. “Are you wet for me, Kenna baby?” “I’m always wet for you, Dante. You should know that. My cunt wants you all the fucking time.”

I was anxious to know how it will go. Celestine had come wearing a small very provocative tight mini skirt, I had a mini dress and Ken was wearing a short that showed his calf muscles so nicely. For some seconds, I thought the whole idea was very wrong but I was willing to try. “Ken dear, come and sit here between us.” Celestine told Ken. It was a wonder how Celestine was so used to some things despite her social image out there. Ken came and sat between us sandwiched, as we got sipping our drinks. Ken began being playful with us taking turns to touch each one of us in our erotic parts like our breasts, our abdomen and thighs.

Lastly l got one. It was a black dress but it didn't need me to wear a bra , it was designed in the way that only my black nipples we're almost the only covered ones and then as it flowed down , it had a slit up my thigh in fact in between my thighs. l knew it that once l sit down and then do one simple mistake , my red thong will be seen by him.

Save it for Connor. I got out of the shower and dug out my sexiest lingerie; the set I'd bought on a whim last year, hoping to spark something. Black lace, sheer enough to tease, with a bra that cupped my tits just right, pushing them up into soft cleavage that begged to be grabbed. The thong was barely there. It was a thin strip that disappeared between my ass cheeks and the front panel was translucent over my shaved pussy. Lastly, the garters that were clipped to thigh-high stockings, framing my curves like a gift waiting to be unwrapped.