Wet Panties In Public Novels & Stories

My panties were the only thing in the way. I wish I could take off my sweatshirt, but he ordered me to lay down. And I don't want to ruin the moment. Call me crazy, but this means a lot to me. His eyes rested on my panties. It is white. I can tell he can see my wetness. God, that's embarrassing. His eyes moved to me. I stared at him nervously. "Wet already," he said. I can't help it. "Perhaps I was touching you in your head, wasn't I?" he asked.

“Go ahead and get clean.” I gulp. Oh god, can I do it? Can I shower in front of the hottest men I’ve ever met, letting them see my everything? And the real Lily takes over then because with a soft nod, I reach down. Slowly hooking my fingers into the sides of the thin elastic, I pull my panties down, the cotton easing to my knees. And oh god, it’s embarrassing. Because a thin strand of pussy cum connects my hole to the soft fabric, clear and juicy, evidence of my need.

With so many people present, I not only had to remove my pants but also had to demonstrate this product. The thought terrified me. “Chuck, I really can’t demonstrate this. Can’t you get someone else?” Chucked was firm as he insisted. Otherwise, he would deduct my pay. I could not argue my way out of it. I slowly removed my pants. I looked down and realized that my underpants were already soaked. The men saw this and were stunned. They could tell that I was sensitive.

My head remained on the locker with my hands clutching my clothes tightly. The voices around me were louder and people hadn’t finished laughing, this was fun, so much fun for them. I felt helpless as a hot open debate began on the next row. A debate loud enough for me to hear. People debating what size my panties were and others speculating that I was bright to have poked holes there to breathe. ‘‘Have you noticed that she rarely smells since Vince taught her how to bathe and poke holes in her pants to breathe,’’ a voice said as thunderous laughter followed.

Simple, bossy, and oh-so-tempting. I rolled my eyes at my reflection in the car window, I wore a short skirt, no panties, a top that hugged my curves just right. “What are you doing, idiot?” I muttered. But my pussy already tingled at the thought. Public? With my bestie's guy? Yeah, I was screwed. Literally, hopefully. The park was buzzing on this warm summer evening. Families picnicking, people jogging past, couples holding hands like they weren't hiding skeletons.

“But actually, I came in here to ask you about something else, Johnny.” “Oh?” I responded, feeling my heart thump faster, unsure what she could possibly want... still trying to conceal her clothing in my hand. “Yeah, about these,” she said, as her hand thrust forward... holding a pair of panties that I had used just the other day! A soiled, debauched item! My dried cum stain was still visible on the exterior. Oh jesus... caught! “Ummm... I don’t think so,” I shrugged, not even able to convince myself it was true. How could I forget shooting a blast of hot semen into those luscious things!

Don't jerk off thinking about me. Zane- I may leave class and do just that. Not like we actually have to be here if she is. Me- NO my panties are not wet! That's a total lie I was in such a hurry to change out of my pajamas that I totally forgot to change my soaked panties, I can feel the wetness rubbing against my thighs and its disgusting. They definitely do not need to know that though. Zane- I don't fucking like liars and right now you're being one. I felt how greedy that cunt was for me.

I scream but it is cut short. The door which had slammed hard against me opens again. Kai’s face peeks in. I rise sharply. “What's it again?” I scold within. His pupils dilate. “I forgot my panties.” His eyes drops on the floor beside me. I trail meeting his wetspot blank panties. I blink with calculative thoughts. “Not gay, why is his panties wetspot?” “Throw it quickly!” Even touching it, I feel numb. “Throw it now!” I bend hesitantly, picking it slightly, flinging it over. His threat echoes again, overwhelming me with guilt. Anger spills.

They shrugged and disappeared into the building. Jamming my hands into my pockets, I glanced up at a nearby streetlight, wondering how I was supposed to return to the reception anyway, with my shirt hanging open like this. But before my fingers slid too deep, I encountered damp cloth. Shit. Her panties. I pulled them out of my pocket and gaped at them in horror. I couldn’t keep them now, not when they only brought a pain-filled regretful memory. But when I glanced toward the dumpster only a few feet away, my fingers tightened around them protectively, unable to give them up.