Women With Wet Panties Romane & Geschichten

Amber’s nipples were almost as hard as my cock. The short skirt was the next to go. She thrust out her chest as she reached behind her waist to release the skirt’s button and zipper. She was then swaying in front of me in nothing but the smallest of silky pink bikini panties. The pink panties wonderfully accented her beautiful light brown skin. The crotch of her panties was already soaked with her juices. A few brief strokes to her pubic mound with her flattened hand, and the panties were quickly cast aside.

And the left. "Thank you sir!" Her belt had to be undone, but she cooperated eagerly in removing it. Then I was free to lower her pants, revealing a pair of plain white cotton panties. Though I had noticed it on my own, Candy was quick to point out, "Oh my god, she's so damn wet. I don't even think I'm that wet, and it turns me on like crazy when you or your fantasy sluts abuse Isa. I can't help myself."

Dylan ignored everyone else as he approached, stopping in front of me and looking down at me as if I were beneath him. "What right do you have to stay here?" His tone was icy. "Every dollar this company makes is from people working themselves to the brink, except you. You rely on your looks and body to secure deals. It's pathetic." He laughed bitterly. "We've been married all these years, and somehow I never realized what kind of woman you really are." Then, he pulled out a stack of photos from his pocket and slapped them in front of my face. The pictures spilled across the floor, showing me with various men—walking beside them or drinking together.

I could see it in their eyes—they could smell my wetness, sense the whore awakening beneath my prim facade. Class dragged on in a haze of tension. Every time I crossed my legs, my swollen pussy lips squished together, sending sparks through me. I was leaking badly now, the crotch of my panties sodden and clinging obscenely. If I stood up too fast, they'd see the dark wet patch on my skirt. The thought horrified me... and made me even wetter.

Hair in a low, messy knot, strands escaping like she’s already been fucked. She doesn’t wear panties. She promised. She writes “Crashaw – The Weeper” on the board. Bends just enough to write low. The skirt rides up in back. Jesus Christ. A flash of bare skin. The lower curve of her ass. The shadowed split between her cheeks. No fabric. Nothing. Just her. My cock floods instantly, thickening so fast it aches. Pre-cum beads and soaks straight through the sweatpants in seconds, a dark circle spreading at the tip.

His fingers moved really fast, and soon, I felt a warm, tight sensation in my lower belly. Being held up in the air like that made me feel a kind of shame I couldn't put into words. Before long, they had torn off my clothes too, and several of them hoisted my naked body up in the air. I couldn't stop a tingling feeling from washing over my body. Desire washed over me like a flood, almost drowning me. "And you say you don't want it? Your panties are soaking wet. You're probably dying for it." With that, the leader stood between my legs and revealed his considerable manhood.

Since such a beautiful woman was being so forward, I wouldn't be a real man if I backed down now. While no one was looking, I used the hairpin to cut the fabric around her private area. The black yoga pants instantly tore open, revealing the soft skin underneath. I was stunned. Hazel wore a thong underneath with only a single strap in the way. This was incredibly convenient! I used my finger to hook the corner of the strap and pulled it aside. My pulse raced at the sight of her core. It appeared incredibly delicate and was already quite damp. Hazel swayed her hips and spoke with desperate longing. "Mr. Brewer, hurry up and put it inside. I can't wait any longer."

Her body flinched at my words, but another wave of shivers covered her arms. “Dirty little doll.” The more I talked, the more her nipples were standing at attention, the more her breathing was getting heavier, the more her hands were gripping the fabric they were tied with. My fingers traced her leg. “I bet you are one of the people who like reading p**n books in public. ” I moved to her other leg, gripping her ankle. “I bet you keep a straight face while your panties are getting soaked.

Faster, wetter, the obscene sounds muffled only by her sleeve-bitten moans. Climax ripped free fiercer this time, vision whiting, knees nearly giving out as she squirted against her hand, splattering the concrete floor with clear evidence of her sin. Panting, she cleaned up hastily with a rag, the fabric coming away soaked. Emerging with a stack of them, face composed, she handed them out. "Found plenty!" The ladies smiled, oblivious. Lila helped wipe tables, but her panties chafed wetly, a constant reminder, her clit pulsing with aftershocks.