Pretty Punk Cherry

84 ⭑ Dirty, Sweet, and you're My Girl

"But, it's like you're there, even when you're not. It's like I can feel you. Sometimes I don't even have to touch them, I can jus' look at them, which..." He held his breath, "Now that I think about makes me sound like a total fucking pervert. Bloody hell..." He dropped his head into my neck with an ashamed whimper, "M'sorry."

"Wait, so, that's it?" I pulled his head up.

"Well, sometimes I gag myself with them too. To keep quiet when other people are in the house..." He admitted, his cheeks red, "But, yeah?"

"You have a pantie fetish!" I laughed.

"Fetishist? No. Enthusiast? Sure."

"Says every person with a fetish ever." I teased him.

"Hey, I'm not on the streets fiending for panties to touch or sniff like a creep!" He scoffed, pouting after, "That's gross. I only like your panties. 'Cause I like you and 'cause they're yours."

"Awe. My pantie lover--"

"Oh, go fuck yourself." He pushed away from me.

"I'm kidding!" I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back t'me until he was pressed against the counter facing away from me and I could cling to him like a Koala, "Baby, I'm joking. I... I don't mind. I think it's kinda hot that you think about me when I'm not around."

"You don't think I'm a freak?" He looked over his shoulder.

"That's my thing." I slid my hands up his shirt, smoothing my fingers across his chest while I pressed soft kisses to his back, "There are far worse things that you could do. If you love it, I love it too."

"Are you sure?"

In reality, it was harmless. It'd be different if we weren't together, but I grinded on my fingers or my blanket like a horny dog when he wasn't around and I pictured his face while I did it.

Everyone had their fantasies. His was at least something pretty. My lace panties were something I only wore every so often, so at least they weren't going to waste.

"So sure." I turned him around and spread my legs to make room for him, "So long as you don't have a stash you're hiding from me. In fact, I'm still missing my underwear from Prom. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" I smirked.

His face spelled 'guilty.'

"Where're the panties, Harlow?" This was now an interrogation.

He took off running.

"Thief!" I gasped with a cackle and jumped off of the counter, running through the house.

Morris scrambled up from his bed and followed after us in a happy run, barking at Harlow. I could only imagine him saying 'Where's the panties!'

Harlow tore open my bedroom and tried to close the door, but I busted in before he could shut me out, "Aha! Tell me where they are!"

He made way for his overnight bag and yanked the black lace out, but he hid them behind his back, "I washed them at my house, but I wanna use them again. They're my favorite of yours."

"There are no favorites!" I widened my eyes, unable to contain my uncontrollable laughter, "Give it!"

"If you can guess what hand they're in, you can have them." He snootily responded.

"If you give them to me I'll put them on and give you a lap dance."

He tossed the panties at my head and ran to the bed to sit down; perching himself at the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap.

I snatched the thong off of my head and stood between his spread legs, "Good boy. I suppose a promise is a promise. Take mine off for me."

He grinned eagerly when I lifted my t-shirt and gave him access to my pink panties. He hooked his fingers into the material and pulled them down slowly, taking his time to watch them separate from me. But by the time he got them halfway down my thighs, he changed his mind, "You're wet..." His eyes drifted up to me, "Does someone have a fetish for my pantie fetish?"