Submitted by myanonymouslair.
I’ve spent forever trying to figure out what to say here about this but I can’t even think about it without literally blushing.
scissors
There’s this guy I know who gets a little too excited when I wear yoga pants.
Shh.
Just keep dreaming.
Heart says this shouts my name. I dig.
Especially since, funny enough, I’m in the middle of going through clothing and separating out what I’m keeping, what can be donated and what’s in the sort of state that I can throw it on to have a partner cut it off me.
You’re clearly on my wavelength right now, Heart.
Snip!
Lori Adorable
Ivy…
its not a knife, but the whole cutting your panties off, and that extra set of hands…
its a button pusher.
Uh, buttons definitely pushed.
And scissors are definitely two knives hinged together so it counts for me.
Also, I’d just like to share that the tag on this was “pointy things and girly panties inevitably make me think of Ivy”. Which is just the best tag ever.
This is the story of the thief and the girl he took home to his partner-in-crime.
Who they were very good to, albeit a little strict.
And who he kept for a time and then returned, because being a villain is rarely as black and white as the pictures.
But who he kept a little piece of. Which is just fine, since she took a little piece of him, too.
Because when you really boil things down, we all are, in our own ways, thieves. Some of us are just better dressed for the part.
I felt her pull my jeans down.
Her palm was on my ass quickly, smacking it with rough, rapid hits. “What the hell are these?” she asked as she tugged on my panties. They were white, cotton, something of a bikini cut.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out as she hit my ass a few more times, “I didn’t know this would happen.”
“These are completely unacceptable.” She was hitting even harder, “did you think I would like this?” She managed to contain a chuckle, trying to keep up the fearsome role she had taken on.
“I didn’t know!” I cried out and tugged on the scarf that held my wrists together and to the headboard. My head was starting to swim. After two months abroad, it had been a while since someone had done this to me. I was sinking into that space already. My thoughts were getting a lot simpler, my voice had a new quality to it.
She smiled and reached around on the floor for a minute before coming up with something I couldn’t see from my position. “I like lace,” she said calmly as she started to slice my panties off of me with the scissors she had just gotten, “but I don’t like thongs.”
I moaned as she pulled them off and the air touched my cunt, its wetness betraying my pouts as I said, “I have lace panties.” Another moan came as she traced a finger down my slit before going to pull my jeans back up. “What are you…?”
“Maybe if you’d have worn them, I’d keep going,” she chuckled as I groaned in protest.
I realized I was probably going to have to beg.
This picture should do it for me. It’s got James Deen. It’s got James Deen pinning a girl’s arms behind her back. It’s got James Deen in a suit. It’s got James fucking Deen.
It’s got scissors (two knives hinged together). It’s got a cute little tattoo. It’s got clothing being sliced off. Mmm.
But, oh, come on, sewing scissors? Where are your garden shears? Maybe I’m too picky when it comes to porn, but I love it when the little details are just perfect.