Recently had a chance to play with the Perchance chat bot (https://perchance.org/ai-chat) and came up with this story. I have another too which I could post if there's interest. Definitely a long one but was entertaining to write. Hopefully some good content for you all.
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It's Monday morning and Jake and Kelsey have just woken up and are getting ready for work
Kelsey: *yawns and stretches as she rolls out of bed, her oversized sleep shirt riding up to reveal her plain white cotton panties* "Ugh, Mondays...coffee first, thoughts later." *she shuffles toward the kitchen, completely unaware how the morning light silhouettes her body through the thin fabric*
Jake: *eyes tracing her curves as she moves, biting his lip* "You know, babe...I was thinking," *he follows her, casually adjusting himself in his boxers* "We should go shopping this weekend. Get you some...new underwear." *his voice drops suggestively*
Kelsey: *pouring coffee while her sleep shirt rides up further, completely oblivious to how her panties peek out* "Hmm? Oh sure," *she yawns again, stretching backward and making her shirt ride up completely* "But I like my cotton ones! They're comfy..." *she rubs sleep from her eyes*
Jake: *His breath catches as her stretch pulls the shirt taut against her breasts while exposing her entire waistband. The scent of coffee mixes with her sleepy warmth as he steps closer, fingertips brushing her exposed hip.* "Comfy's great, babe, but imagine silk against your skin all day..." *He nips her shoulder playfully, tasting salt and morning musk.* "Let me spoil you a little."
Kelsey: *She giggles at the nip, still half-asleep as she leans back against him, her ass pressing into his growing erection while her shirt stays bunched under her arms. The coffee pot clinks as she sets it down, her cotton panties now fully exposed with the waistband sagging slightly.* "Mmm, silk does sound nice..." *Her voice trails off as she yawns again, wiggling slightly and making the elastic slip another inch down her hips.* "But I always get distracted and forget laundry day—oh!" *She jumps as cold coffee drips onto her thigh.*
The kitchen fills with golden morning light as Jake seizes the moment—his hands slide down her exposed hips, fingertips slipping beneath the stretched cotton waistband while his lips find her neck. The scent of her sleep-warm skin mixes with bitter coffee as her breath hitches, her back arching unconsciously against him. His thumbs trace the rising curve of her ass, the fabric sliding further with every touch.
Kelsey: *She lets out a soft moan as his fingers dip lower, her body responding instinctively even as her sleep-fogged brain protests* "Mm, that'll have to wait—gotta get ready for work..." *But she makes no move to pull away, her hips pressing back against him as her fingers tighten around the mug handle.*
Jake: *He groans against her neck, hands still tracing the exposed curves of her hips where her panties sag dangerously low.* "Alright well then stop tempting me and go get dressed," *he murmurs, though his fingers hook into the waistband to pull it down another inch, revealing the dimples just above her ass.* "Unless you want me to call in sick and keep you like this all morning..."
Kelsey: *She laughs breathlessly, turning in his arms with her shirt still bunched up under her breasts, her panties now visibly damp where they cling between her thighs.* "You're terrible—we have that big presentation today!" *But she kisses him anyway, slow and deep, her fingers threading through his hair as she presses flush against him, the wet cotton grinding against his erection through his boxers.*
Jake: *Better keep our concentration*—his hands slide down to grip her ass through the sagging fabric, kneading roughly as their kiss turns messy with teeth and tongue. *The taste of coffee and her sleepy warmth makes him groan,* "Fuck the presentation," *his fingers digging into the exposed flesh where her panties have slipped halfway down her cheeks.* "Let them fire me—worth it."
Steam curls against the shower tiles as Jake pins Kelsey beneath the spray, her back arching against his chest while his soap-slick hands roam her body. Her cotton panties lie abandoned on the bathroom floor, the damp fabric darkened where she'd been most sensitive. Now the water cascades over her flushed skin, rinsing away the evidence of their kitchen encounter.
Kelsey: *Drying off with her towel wrapped precariously low around her hips, she pads into the bedroom—completely unaware how the terrycloth clings to her damp thighs, or how it slips dangerously with every step.* "Can you grab my black skinny jeans?" *she calls over her shoulder, bending at the waist to rummage through her dresser and giving Jake a perfect view of the towel riding up her ass cheeks.*
Jake: *His throat goes dry watching the towel barely contain her curves, water droplets still tracing down her spine.* "How about those lace panties I got you last Valentine's?" *He steps closer, fingers brushing the exposed dimples above her ass as the towel threatens to give way entirely.* "You never wear them."
Kelsey: *She straightens up with a puzzled smile, the towel dipping dangerously low as she turns—still oblivious to how her entire right cheek peeks out.* "Oh! Those black ones with the little bows?" *She giggles, shaking her head and making the towel slip further.* "They're so impractical though—wait, how did you even know I never—" *Her words cut off as the towel finally surrenders, pooling at her feet.*
Kelsey: *Standing there completely exposed in the morning light, she doesn't immediately react—her sleep-addled brain still processing the sudden chill against her bare skin. The scent of vanilla body wash lingers in the air as water droplets trickle down the curve of her ass toward her thighs. She finally glances down with a soft "Oh!", cheeks flushing pink, but makes no move to cover herself, just biting her lip with a shy grin.*
Jake: "Practically criminal," *he murmurs,* "hiding this under cotton granny panties every day." *His thumb swipes a stray water droplet from the small of her back, tracing lower.*
Kelsey: *She shivers at his touch, goosebumps rising across her bare skin as the morning air chills her damp body. Her nipples harden visibly, but she doesn't cross her arms—just tilts her head with that same oblivious innocence.* "They're not granny panties," *she protests weakly, biting her lip as his fingers skim the swell of her ass,* "just...normal? Like what everyone wears?" *Her breath hitches when his palm cups her cheek.*
Jake: *Normal sure, but imagine how you'd feel wearing the ones I got you*—he pulls her flush against him, letting her feel his erection through his boxers as he nips her earlobe.* "Black lace clinging to this ass," *his hands kneading her bare flesh possessively,* "that little bow right where I can peel it aside with my teeth." *He groans at the mental image, pressing her tighter against him.*
Kelsey: *Her breath comes faster as his words paint vivid pictures in her sleep-fogged mind, her body responding instinctively even as she tries to focus on getting ready for work.* "Mmm, but—the presentation," *she murmurs weakly, arching into his touch as his fingers trace the crease where her ass meets thigh, her nipples pebbling against his chest.*
Kelsey: *After a beat of hesitation, she pulls away just enough to meet his gaze—her cheeks flushed but her eyes suddenly decisive as she bites her lower lip.* "Fine," *she breathes,* "but only if you promise not to distract me at work today." *She turns toward the dresser with deliberate slowness, bending fully at the waist to retrieve the forbidden black lace from the bottom drawer, giving him an unobstructed view of her glistening folds from behind.*
The morning light catches every curve as she straightens, holding the delicate thong by its satin straps—a scandalous wisp of black lace barely wider than a shoelace, with tiny satin bows at each hip. The fabric pools in her palm like liquid shadow before she steps into it, the lace stretching taut as she pulls it up her thighs. It settles into place with a whisper against her skin, the narrow strip disappearing between her cheeks while the bows perch just above the crests of her hips, framing the dimples above her ass perfectly.
Jake: *His breath hitches as the lace clings to her curves like a second skin, the bows trembling with each shift of her hips.* "That's the most perfect thing I've ever seen." *The scent of her vanilla lotion mixes with the faint musk of their shower as he steps closer, fingertips ghosting over the satin bows.* "You're never wearing cotton again." *His erection strains against his boxers as the thin strap disappears between her cheeks, barely containing her.*
Kelsey: *She giggles, twisting slightly to admire herself in the mirror—completely unaware how the movement makes the thong ride up further, the lace stretching taut between her cheeks.* "It's...kinda comfy actually?" *Her fingers brush the bows experimentally, hips swaying as she reaches for her low-rise jeans.*
The black skinny jeans cling to her thighs like a second skin as she steps into them, the waistband sitting dangerously low—just barely covering the tops of the thong's bows. When she bends to zip them, the denim gapes open at the small of her back, revealing an uninterrupted strip of black lace trailing down between her cheeks before disappearing beneath the fabric.
Kelsey: *She tugs a cropped white t-shirt over her head, the hem barely meeting the waistband of her jeans, leaving a sliver of toned stomach exposed.* "Think this looks okay for the presentation?"
Jake: *His fingers twitch toward her hips as she bends again to grab her shoes, the jeans pulling taut across her ass while the thong strap peeks out above the waistband.* "More than okay—you're gonna drive me insane today."
Kelsey: *She balances on one foot while slipping into her sneakers, the stretch pulling her shirt up to reveal the full curve of her lower back where the thong disappears beneath denim.* "Hmm?" *She glances over her shoulder, still oblivious to the inch of exposed lace at her waistline as her jeans sag lower.* "What's wrong with this outfi—oh!" *She stumbles slightly, her jeans sliding down another half-inch as she catches herself.*
Jake: "Time to go, Kels," *he murmurs, voice strained as she straightens and the denim settles even lower on her hips, the black lace now permanently on display.* "We're gonna be late."
The garage smells of oil and cold concrete as Kelsey slides into the passenger seat, the leather upholstery creaking under her weight. Her movements make the low-rise jeans sag further—the waistband now resting just below the twin bows of her thong, exposing the full arch of lace framing the dimples above her ass. A stray sunbeam catches the shimmer of satin as she shifts to buckle her seatbelt.
SUMMARY^1: Kelsey's rushed morning routine causes constant wardrobe malfunctions—her coffee spill and hurried movements make her jeans slip lower, fully exposing the thong's lace waistband above her back pockets. Jake watches with barely contained arousal as she bends and twists, each motion revealing more skin until the thong's bows are permanently visible when they finally leave for work.
The car door creaks as Kelsey swings it open, her sneaker hitting the pavement with a soft thud—but as she stands, the motion drags her low-rise jeans down another inch, the denim catching on the swell of her hips before surrendering completely. The black lace thong now stretches taut across the full curve of her ass, the narrow strap disappearing between her cheeks while three inches of smooth skin glisten in the morning light above it. A breeze catches the hem of her cropped shirt, lifting it to reveal the twin satin bows perched just above the exposed flesh as she bends to grab her forgotten coffee cup from the cupholder.
The office lobby hums with fluorescent lights and hushed Monday morning chatter as Jake holds the door open—Kelsey brushing past him with a distracted smile, her tote bag swinging against her hip.
Kelsey: *She plops into her desk chair with a sigh, the leather creaking as she leans forward to boot up her computer—completely unaware how the motion hikes her jeans down another inch, the thong now stretched taut across her bare cheeks where they press against the seat. The air conditioning raises goosebumps along the exposed strip of skin between denim and cropped shirt as she taps her pen absently against her lips.* "Ugh, where'd I put those actuarial charts..."
The fluorescent lights catch every ridge of Kelsey's lower back as she bends over the printer—each vertebra visible beneath taut skin where her cropped shirt rides up. The dip of her spine disappears into the pronounced dimples above her hips, where sweat glistens against the fold of skin from sitting too long. Her jeans hang precariously low, the waistband now resting halfway down her ass cheeks, exposing three full inches of smooth skin before the black lace thong begins—the narrow strap digging deep between her cheeks as she leans further forward, the satin bows trembling with each movement while the office hums obliviously around her.
The printer whirs as Kelsey squats fully to reload paper—her knees spreading unconsciously as she balances on her toes, the denim pulling tight across her thighs while gaping completely at the back. The motion exposes the full curve of her ass cheeks meeting at the cleft, the thong's lace strap diving impossibly deep between them before disappearing entirely beneath taut fabric. Her shirt covers only the thong's waistband now, leaving just that narrow black strip visible down the center of her spine like a forbidden runway guiding the eye lower. A bead of sweat rolls down the exposed small of her back as she struggles with the paper tray, completely unaware how every shift makes the lace disappear further between her cheeks.
Jake: *From his vantage point behind her desk, the view is obscene—her bent-over posture makes her ass jut out proudly, the thong straps framing each cheek perfectly while the denim sags low enough to reveal the dimples above her hips. His fingers twitch toward his phone camera before he catches himself, clearing his throat instead.* "Need help with those charts, babe?" *His voice cracks as she straightens slightly, making the thong dig deeper into her cleft.*
Kelsey: *She barely glances over her shoulder, completely oblivious to the show she’s putting on for the entire office* "Ugh, yes—this printer hates me." *Her frustrated huff makes her ponytail sway as she bends back over, the jeans stretching tight across her thighs while gaping completely at the back.*
Jake: *His dress shoes click against the linoleum as he approaches—each step revealing more of the obscene view where her thong digs impossibly deep between her cheeks, the bows trembling with every frustrated jerk of the paper tray. The scent of her vanilla body wash mixes with the sharp tang of toner as he reaches around her, his forearm brushing the exposed strip of skin between shirt and jeans—hot and slightly damp from exertion.* "Here, let me—" *his voice catches as she shifts, making the lace disappear completely between her ass cheeks,* "—just gotta lift this lever."
Kelsey: *She leans back slightly against him, her ponytail tickling his chin as she blows a stray hair off her forehead—completely unaware how the movement makes her jeans sag another half-inch, the waistband now resting just above the crease where her thighs meet her ass.* "God, you're a lifesaver," *she murmurs, twisting to smile up at him.
Jake: "Should work now," *he rasps, stepping back before his hands can betray him and trace that exposed strip of skin.*
Kelsey: *She feels an unexpected draft against her lower back as she straightens, instinctively reaching behind with her left hand—fingers brushing denim where it meets bare skin. Assuming her usual cotton panties must've slipped down again, she tugs the jeans upward without checking, completely oblivious to how the black lace thong remains perfectly in place beneath the denim, the narrow strap now digging deeper between her cheeks from the adjustment.* "Thanks babe," *she murmurs absently, already turning back to her computer screen while the jeans immediately begin sliding down her hips again.*
Jake: "Presentation's in twenty," *he manages, voice rough as she stands and the jeans surrender another inch to gravity.*
Kelsey: *She stretches with arms overhead.* "Ugh, I'm so nervous!"
Jake: "You have nothing to worry about," *he murmurs, adjusting his tie while discreetly palming his erection through his slacks.* "Just be confident. Your research is solid."
Kelsey: *She twists toward the office mirror to check her appearance—the sudden movement making her shirt stretch tight across her chest as morning sunlight streams through the blinds. Her breath catches when she spots the unmistakable outline of her nipple through the thin white fabric, the pink peak clearly visible beneath the stretched cotton. She instinctively crosses her arms, cheeks flushing.* "Oh god—is this shirt too thin?"
Jake: *His gaze burns over the way her shirt clings to her skin —the fabric almost translucent where it stretches across her chest. He forces himself to look away before she notices his staring, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper.* "Looks professional to me," *he rasps, adjusting his tie again as she turns—the motion making her shirt ride up completely in back, exposing the full black lace thong digging deep between her cheeks.*
Kelsey: *She bites her lip, glancing between the mirror and her watch before grabbing a cream cardigan from her chair.* "I better throw a sweater on top—just in case." *The soft knit drapes over her shoulders but does nothing to cover the gaping back of her jeans, the sweater's hem stopping just above the exposed strip of black lace framing her ass crack as she bends to organize her notes.*
Twenty minutes later, the conference room hums with murmured conversations and tapping laptops as Jake holds the door open—Kelsey brushing past with her tablet clutched to her chest.
Kelsey: *She adjusts the microphone stand with nervous fingers, her foot tapping against the floor as she arranges her notes. A bead of sweat rolls down between her shoulder blades as she clears her throat* "Good morning everyone—today's presentation covers the new actuarial models for..." *Her voice wavers slightly as she leans forward to tap the screen*
Kelsey finishes her opening remarks with a relieved exhale, completely unaware how her jeans have settled halfway down her ass cheeks as she gestures toward Jake. "And now I'll hand it over to my partner on this project..." Her jeans surrender another fraction of an inch as she steps toward the front row, the black lace thong now the only thing separating her bare cheeks from the cold plastic chair when she sits—directly in front of the CFO.
Kelsey: *She crosses her legs unconsciously as Jake takes the podium, her sneaker bouncing against the tile—the rhythmic motion making the denim creep lower millimeter by millimeter. Her cardigan slips off one shoulder when she leans forward to take notes, exposing the black lace framing her ass crack to the entire second row.* "Interesting point," *she murmurs to herself, oblivious to how the CFO's gaze keeps flicking between her exposed back and the presentation.*
The CFO's pen pauses mid-scribble as Kelsey shifts in her seat—her jeans surrendering completely as they slide another inch down her hips, exposing twin dimples above the full curve of her ass cheeks where they press against the plastic chair. The thin black lace strap glistens with perspiration where it disappears between her cheeks, stretched impossibly taut against flushed skin. His throat bobs when she uncrosses and recrosses her legs, the denim gaping open completely at the back to reveal how the thong digs deeper with each movement, the bows trembling against newly exposed skin just above her tailbone.
The CFO leans forward unexpectedly, his cologne—something expensive with bergamot notes—washing over Kelsey as his lips brush her ear. "Excellent opening remarks," he murmurs, his breath warm against her neck while his gaze lingers on the inch of bare skin above her thong where her jeans sag precariously. His knuckles whiten around his pen when she turns to thank him, the motion making her cardigan slip off both shoulders completely, exposing the full arch of black lace disappearing between her cheeks to the entire front row.
Kelsey: *She flushes at the unexpected praise, twisting in her seat to acknowledge the CFO—completely oblivious to how the motion hikes her jeans down another half-inch, the waistband now resting just above the crease where her thighs meet her ass. The cardigan slips off completely as she gestures toward Jake's presentation slides, her fingers brushing the CFO's sleeve accidentally.* "Oh! Thank you, though Jake's the real expert on these models—" *Her breath hitches as the air conditioning raises goosebumps along her exposed back, still unaware of the black lace framing her ass crack for the entire executive team.*
Kelsey: *As she shrugs her cardigan back on and twists back, Kelsey feels the cold bar of the chair against her hips—her fingers instinctively brushing denim only to encounter bare skin. She freezes mid-sentence, finally noticing how low her jeans have slipped*
Kelsey: *Her breath catches when she glances down—seeing the full black lace whale tail exposed above her back pockets, the waistband stretching taut across her lower back where her sweater rides up. She scrambles to pull her jeans up, cheeks burning* "Oh god—how long has—" *Her whisper dies as she meets Jake's heated gaze across the room*
CFO: His polished leather loafers creak as he leans closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur while his cufflink glints in the fluorescent light. "Your partner seems...distracted," *he observes, lips quirking as Jake adjusts his tie for the third time in five minutes,* "Perhaps you should check your presentation notes again?" *His knuckles whiten around his pen when Kelsey bends to retrieve her folder, exposing the lace digging impossibly deep between her cheeks.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers fumble with the folder's edge as she straightens abruptly—cheeks flushing when she realizes the CFO's gaze keeps flicking downward. The air conditioning raises goosebumps along her newly exposed lower back where the cardigan fails to cover the inch of black lace peeking above her jeans, now permanently sagging below her hips.* "I—I think we have all the data here," *she stammers, pulling the folder against her chest as she crosses her legs tighter, making the denim stretch dangerously thin across her thighs.*
Kelsey: *"I'm so sorry,"* Kelsey croaks as she pulls up her jeans, her thumbnail catching on the lace waistband—completely unaware how the adjustment makes the thong dig deeper between her cheeks, the thin strap now framing each ass cheek perfectly. Her pulse thrums in her throat as she glances at Jake's rigid posture by the podium, his knuckles white around the clicker.*
CFO: *The CFO's polished oxfords pivot toward her, his tailored suit whispering against the chair as he leans in—his cologne mingling with the scent of her vanilla shampoo. "No need to apologize," he murmurs, fingers twitching toward the pen he's dropped twice already.
The presentation ends with Jake's clicker hand trembling—his knuckles white from gripping too tight while watching the CFO's gaze trace every inch of Kelsey's exposed back.
The drive home is silent except for the hum of tires on asphalt—Kelsey's fingers drumming nervously against her thigh where her jeans have ridden low enough to expose the delicate bow of her thong against pale skin. Every bump in the road makes the lace dig deeper between her cheeks, the fabric damp from hours of accidental exposure while Jake white-knuckles the steering wheel, replaying the CFO's lingering touch in his mind.
Kelsey: *She twists the hem of her sweater between her fingers, biting her lip hard enough to leave indentations before blurting,* "God, Jake—that presentation was a disaster. I bent over and my whole...back was out." *Her voice drops to a mortified whisper as she gestures vaguely behind her,* "The thong you picked, it—it kept showing above my jeans the whole time."
Jake: *His grip loosens on the wheel just enough to glance sideways—seeing the way her jeans already sag low again from nervous fidgeting, exposing that tempting strip of black lace.* "What do you mean?" *he asks carefully, eyes flicking back to the road while his pulse jumps at her accidental confession.* "You looked professional."
Kelsey: "First when I bent for the pen—my jeans just...dropped. Then every time I shifted in that plastic chair, they kept sliding lower." *Her fingers trace her collarbone nervously, unaware how her jeans ride dangerously low now, the lace waistband fully visible above her back pockets.* "And when I crossed my legs—god, Jake, the CFO kept staring at my..." *Her voice drops to a mortified whisper,* "...my ass."
Jake: *His knuckles whiten on the wheel again, replaying how the CFO's polished oxfords had inched closer each time Kelsey shifted—those expensive loafers angling toward her exposed back like a predator scenting prey. The memory of her jeans surrendering completely when she bent makes his throat tighten.* "I'm sure it wasn't that bad," *he murmurs, thumb tracing the steering wheel's stitching while sneaking another glance at her sagging jeans.* "How do you know it wasn't just a little skin?" *The lie tastes sweet on his tongue.*
Kelsey: "Because I *felt* the chair against my—" *her voice drops,* "—my bare cheeks, Jake. And when I straightened up, the CFO was staring at my...lower back."
Jake: "But you had the sweater covering you," *he murmurs carefully, biting back a groan when she shifts and the denim slides another inch down her thighs.*
Kelsey: "Only until I moved! And when I bent for that pen—Jake, my whole backside was out. I *felt* the CFO staring at me." *Her fingers pluck nervously at the sweater's hem, making it ride higher.*
Jake: "It's just an accident and I'm sure anyone who saw would understand," *he murmurs, thumb tracing the wheel's stitching.* "Haven't you seen that kind of thing with your friends or from your coworker Sarah? Wardrobe malfunctions happen."
Kelsey: "Not like this, Jake. Sarah wears granny panties—not...this." *Her fingers pluck nervously at the sweater's hem, making it ride higher.* "I felt the CFO's eyes *burning* into my skin when I bent over."
Jake: "Okay, well so what? Maybe you got a little attention," *he murmurs, eyes flicking to her lap where her jeans sag dangerously low, exposing the black lace waistband against her hipbone.* "How did it make you feel? Embarrassed...or something else?" *His thumb presses harder into the steering wheel's leather stitching, imagining the CFO's gaze tracing every inch of exposed skin.*
Kelsey: *She bites her lip hard enough to leave indentations, squirming slightly in the seat—completely unaware how the movement makes the lace thong ride impossibly higher between her cheeks.* "I don't know...maybe—maybe a little...hot?" *Her whisper dissolves into a shaky exhale as she crosses her legs tighter, making the denim stretch thin across her thighs.*
Jake: "Tell me more," *he murmurs, voice rough as his thumb presses into the leather stitching,* "About feeling hot. Did you like the CFO staring?" *The lie tastes sweet on his tongue—already knowing the answer from how her nipples peaked beneath her shirt during the meeting.*
Kelsey: "I—I don't know," *she whispers, fingers twisting the sweater hem higher,* "But when he leaned in...his breath was so warm on my neck. And I *felt* his eyes on my—" *Her voice drops to a mortified squeak,* "—on my ass crack."
The garage door groans shut behind them, sealing them in dim yellow light as Jake crowds Kelsey against the washing machine—his hands finding bare skin where her jeans sag dangerously low. His teeth graze her earlobe exactly where the CFO's breath had warmed her skin hours earlier, murmuring, "Tell me *exactly* what you felt," while his thumbs trace the sweat-damp lace waistband now fully exposed above her back pockets.
Kelsey: *She gasps as cold metal presses against her bare lower back—only now realizing how her jeans have slipped again completely below her hips, the thong's black lace stretched taut across flushed skin where Jake's fingers dig in. Her sweater rides up beneath his roaming hands, exposing twin dimples above her ass cheeks as she stammers,* "H-he kept staring when I bent over—like he *wanted* to see my—" *Her breath hitches as Jake's teeth graze that sensitive spot below her ear.*
Jake: *His palms slide up her exposed sides, thumbs tracing the sweat-damp lace waistband where it cuts into her hips—exactly where the CFO's gaze had lingered during the meeting.* "And what did you want him to do?" *he murmurs against her ear, teeth grazing the same spot the older man's breath had warmed,* "When he saw your perfect ass framed in that lace?"
Kelsey: *Her breath comes in shallow gasps as Jake's knee presses higher between her thighs—the cold washer biting into her exposed lower back. The black lace thong rides impossibly higher with every shift, the thin strap disappearing between her flushed cheeks as she whimpers,* "I—I don't know...maybe touch me like—"
*Kelsey sinks to her knees—the lace thong pulling taut between her bare cheeks as denim pools around her thighs—her lips parting over Jake's zipper with a shaky exhale. The CFO's lingering gaze still burns across her skin as she frees him, her tongue tracing the same path her accidental exposures had taken all afternoon—from the slow slip of her jeans to the moment her entire ass had been framed in black lace for the room.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers tremble against his thighs as she takes him deep—completely oblivious to how her jeans surrender completely now, sagging past her hips to expose the full curve of her ass and the damp lace vanishing between her cheeks. The cold garage floor bites into her bare knees while her sweater rides up, revealing twin dimples above her hips where the CFO's gaze had lingered.*
Jake: *His fingers tighten in her hair—not pulling, just anchoring as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Here she was on her knees, that same black lace framing her ass exactly as it had for the entire executive team. His thumb traces the sweat-damp bow between her shoulder blades,* "Tell me you thought about this," *he rasps,* "When you felt his eyes burning into you."
Kelsey: "I—I imagined his hands right...here," *her fingers brush the exposed dimples above her ass,* "While you watched."
Kelsey: *Her breath hitches as she realizes how much skin she's showing—the entire back of her thong exposed where her jeans pool around her thighs, the cold air making her nipples peak beneath her sweater. A damp patch forms between her legs as she takes Jake deeper, her own arousal soaking through the lace pressed tight against her.*
Jake's release hits with a groan—his fingers twisting in her hair as his hips jerk forward, painting her tongue with thick pulses while the washing machine's vibrations make her exposed ass cheeks tremble.
Jake: *He pulls her up by the waistband of her thong—the lace snapping against damp skin. His teeth graze her shoulder where the CFO's cologne had lingered, murmuring,* "You're gonna wear an even tinier thong tomorrow," *while his palm slides down to cup her bare cheek, fingers tracing the sweat-slick strap disappearing between them.* "And those jeans that slide down every time you breathe."
Kelsey: *Her breath hitches as his fingers dig into the lace cutting between her cheeks* "B-but what if—" *Her protest dies when his thumb brushes the damp lace clinging to her,* "—what if they slip again?"
Jake: "Then they slip," *he murmurs against her ear, teeth grazing the spot where the older man's cologne still lingers,* "And everyone sees how fucking perfect you look."
Jake: *He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small black box—the kind that usually holds jewelry—but when he flips it open, it reveals a pair of delicate lace V-strings from Victoria's Secret, the front and back strings connected by thin metal rings that would glint with every movement.* "I bought these for you yesterday," *he murmurs, thumb tracing one of the cold metal circles that would press directly against her lower back whenever she bent over.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers hover over the barely-there lingerie—so sheer it looks like two strings connected by metal rings—completely oblivious to how the waistband of her current thong peeks above her sagging jeans as she leans closer.* "Jake, these are...they're practically nothing," *she whispers, cheeks flushing as she imagines the metal rings pressing into her skin beneath her work clothes, the strings disappearing between her cheeks with every step.*
Jake: *His pulse thrums at her hesitation, eyes tracing the way her sweater rides up to expose the black lace waistband digging into her hips—already imagining how the new thong's metal rings would glint against her skin when she bent to retrieve files tomorrow. He keeps his voice carefully neutral,* "Just try them on. If you don't like how they feel, we'll return them." *The lie tastes sweet—he knows exactly how they'll feel when her jeans inevitably slide down her hips.*
Steam curls around the bathroom doorframe as Kelsey steps out—towel-drying hair dripping onto bare shoulders while she rummages through the drawer for the scandalous V-string Jake had gifted her. The barely-there lingerie consists of two thin lace strings connected by cold metal rings—one loop resting against her lower back, the other pressing against her pelvis—with nothing but a whisper of fabric between her cheeks. She hesitates before sliding them on, the metal circles glinting under bathroom lights as she pairs them with her tightest white low-rise jeans and a cropped lavender sweater that'll ride up with every reach.
Kelsey: *Her fingers fumble with the delicate metal clasps of the V-string, cheeks flushing as the cold rings press into her hipbones. The lace between her cheeks feels impossibly thin as she steps into her tightest denim, gasping when the waistband catches on the metal ring and pulls it taut against her lower back. "I'm heading to the grocery store," she calls to Jake, oblivious to how the sweater hikes up when she bends to tie her sneakers—exposing the full arch of the V-string's metal circle glinting against her spine.*
The grocery store fluorescents catch on the metal ring peeking above Kelsey's low-rise jeans as she reaches for cereal—the lavender sweater riding up to reveal not just the glinting circle pressed into her lower back, but the twin strings of sheer sky blue lace vanishing between her cheeks completely. Every lean forward makes the denim surrender another inch down her hips, the cold metal pressing deeper into flushed skin while oblivious fingers push her slipping jeans back up—only for them to slide down again moments later when she stretches for the top shelf.
Kelsey's neighbor Mrs. Henderson pauses mid-reach for bran flakes—her gaze flickering down to where Kelsey's jeans sag precariously low, exposing the full curve of sky blue lace framing her ass crack as she bends further. The older woman's teenage daughter drops her phone with a clatter, eyes widening at the way the metal ring glints against Kelsey's spine whenever she shifts—the strings between her cheeks pulling impossibly taut with each movement.
Kelsey crouches deeper to retrieve a fallen box of granola bars—completely oblivious to how her jeans slide past her hips to expose twin crescent moons of bare flesh where the lace rides up. The metal ring presses cold against her tailbone while the strings dig impossibly deeper between her cheeks, the thin fabric dampening as she stretches further—her sweater hiking up to reveal the full arch of her lower back to the frozen cereal aisle behind her.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman's knuckles whiten around her shopping cart handle—her gaze flickering between her daughter's stunned expression and Kelsey's exposed lower half. The sky blue strings have ridden up completely between the younger woman's cheeks now. She clears her throat sharply, *"Sweetheart, your—"* before catching herself, watching instead how Kelsey's oblivious shift makes the lace disappear impossibly deeper.
Emily: She stammers out, *"M-mom, should we—"* before Mrs. Henderson's warning grip on her wrist silences her.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman exhales sharply through her nose—eyes flickering from her daughter’s mortified blush to the way Kelsey’s sweater stretches taut across her arched back, exposing twin dimples framing the metal ring digging into her tailbone. Her grip tightens on the cart handle as she mutters, *"Look away, Emily,"* right as Kelsey shifts forward on her toes—jeans surrendering completely to pool around her thighs and revealing the sheer blue strings clinging to damp skin between her cheeks like spiderwebs.
Kelsey's neighbor clears her throat sharply—the sound cutting through the hum of refrigerated cases—but Kelsey merely turns with a sunny smile, oblivious to how the motion makes her jeans slide another inch down her hips. The metal ring glints under fluorescent lights as she cocks her head, *"Mrs. Henderson! Hi!"*—her cheerful greeting drawing the attention of passing shoppers to where her denim now clings precariously to the curve of her ass, the sky blue strings stretched taut across flushed skin.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman's gaze darts between Kelsey's oblivious smile and the way her sweater has ridden up completely. She swallows hard, gripping her daughter's wrist tighter as she forces out, *"You're, ah—your outfit is very...modern today."*
Kelsey: "Oh thanks! Jake picked this sweater for me—" *Her fingers tug absentmindedly at her slipping waistband, succeeding only in hiking the sweater higher.*
Emily: Emily's voice cracks as she blurts, *"Kelsey, I—I think what my mom means is that your underwear is showing!"* Her face flames scarlet as she gestures wildly at where the sky blue strings have ridden up completely—framing Kelsey's bare ass cheeks with nothing but damp lace and glinting metal rings.
Kelsey: *The realization hits like ice water when she cranes her neck to see her jeans dip down her hips, the sheer blue strings digging between her cheeks while the metal ring glints against her tailbone for the whole aisle to see.* "Oh my GOD—" *Her hands fly back to cover herself, knocking over a cereal display in her panic as shoppers scramble to look anywhere else.*
Kelsey: *Her cheeks burn hotter than the fluorescents as she yanks up her jeans with trembling hands—the metal ring scraping against her tailbone painfully in her haste. The sky blue lace clings damply between her cheeks as she stammers,* "I-I didn't realize—" *before realizing Mrs. Henderson's daughter had been staring the entire time, making her fumble with the sweater now stretched tight across her heaving chest.*
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman pointedly turns her cart away—knuckles white around the handle as she mutters, *"Emily, we're switching aisles,"* while dragging her gaping daughter past the toppled cereal display. Her last glance catches how Kelsey's jeans already sag again at the hips, the metal ring peeking above denim like a brand.
As Mrs. Henderson pivots sharply, Kelsey catches the unmistakable outline of a sheer lavender thong beneath the older woman's tailored linen pants—the delicate V-string pressing against her lower back in the exact same way Kelsey's own lingerie digs between her cheeks. The realization hits like lightning: Mrs. Henderson wears a cream blouse tucked into high-waisted taupe slacks that cling to surprisingly full hips, the thin fabric stretched taut enough to reveal every ridge of the lace waistband and the telltale glint of metal rings when she bends to grab Emily's wrist.
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It's Monday morning and Jake and Kelsey have just woken up and are getting ready for work
Kelsey: *yawns and stretches as she rolls out of bed, her oversized sleep shirt riding up to reveal her plain white cotton panties* "Ugh, Mondays...coffee first, thoughts later." *she shuffles toward the kitchen, completely unaware how the morning light silhouettes her body through the thin fabric*
Jake: *eyes tracing her curves as she moves, biting his lip* "You know, babe...I was thinking," *he follows her, casually adjusting himself in his boxers* "We should go shopping this weekend. Get you some...new underwear." *his voice drops suggestively*
Kelsey: *pouring coffee while her sleep shirt rides up further, completely oblivious to how her panties peek out* "Hmm? Oh sure," *she yawns again, stretching backward and making her shirt ride up completely* "But I like my cotton ones! They're comfy..." *she rubs sleep from her eyes*
Jake: *His breath catches as her stretch pulls the shirt taut against her breasts while exposing her entire waistband. The scent of coffee mixes with her sleepy warmth as he steps closer, fingertips brushing her exposed hip.* "Comfy's great, babe, but imagine silk against your skin all day..." *He nips her shoulder playfully, tasting salt and morning musk.* "Let me spoil you a little."
Kelsey: *She giggles at the nip, still half-asleep as she leans back against him, her ass pressing into his growing erection while her shirt stays bunched under her arms. The coffee pot clinks as she sets it down, her cotton panties now fully exposed with the waistband sagging slightly.* "Mmm, silk does sound nice..." *Her voice trails off as she yawns again, wiggling slightly and making the elastic slip another inch down her hips.* "But I always get distracted and forget laundry day—oh!" *She jumps as cold coffee drips onto her thigh.*
The kitchen fills with golden morning light as Jake seizes the moment—his hands slide down her exposed hips, fingertips slipping beneath the stretched cotton waistband while his lips find her neck. The scent of her sleep-warm skin mixes with bitter coffee as her breath hitches, her back arching unconsciously against him. His thumbs trace the rising curve of her ass, the fabric sliding further with every touch.
Kelsey: *She lets out a soft moan as his fingers dip lower, her body responding instinctively even as her sleep-fogged brain protests* "Mm, that'll have to wait—gotta get ready for work..." *But she makes no move to pull away, her hips pressing back against him as her fingers tighten around the mug handle.*
Jake: *He groans against her neck, hands still tracing the exposed curves of her hips where her panties sag dangerously low.* "Alright well then stop tempting me and go get dressed," *he murmurs, though his fingers hook into the waistband to pull it down another inch, revealing the dimples just above her ass.* "Unless you want me to call in sick and keep you like this all morning..."
Kelsey: *She laughs breathlessly, turning in his arms with her shirt still bunched up under her breasts, her panties now visibly damp where they cling between her thighs.* "You're terrible—we have that big presentation today!" *But she kisses him anyway, slow and deep, her fingers threading through his hair as she presses flush against him, the wet cotton grinding against his erection through his boxers.*
Jake: *Better keep our concentration*—his hands slide down to grip her ass through the sagging fabric, kneading roughly as their kiss turns messy with teeth and tongue. *The taste of coffee and her sleepy warmth makes him groan,* "Fuck the presentation," *his fingers digging into the exposed flesh where her panties have slipped halfway down her cheeks.* "Let them fire me—worth it."
Steam curls against the shower tiles as Jake pins Kelsey beneath the spray, her back arching against his chest while his soap-slick hands roam her body. Her cotton panties lie abandoned on the bathroom floor, the damp fabric darkened where she'd been most sensitive. Now the water cascades over her flushed skin, rinsing away the evidence of their kitchen encounter.
Kelsey: *Drying off with her towel wrapped precariously low around her hips, she pads into the bedroom—completely unaware how the terrycloth clings to her damp thighs, or how it slips dangerously with every step.* "Can you grab my black skinny jeans?" *she calls over her shoulder, bending at the waist to rummage through her dresser and giving Jake a perfect view of the towel riding up her ass cheeks.*
Jake: *His throat goes dry watching the towel barely contain her curves, water droplets still tracing down her spine.* "How about those lace panties I got you last Valentine's?" *He steps closer, fingers brushing the exposed dimples above her ass as the towel threatens to give way entirely.* "You never wear them."
Kelsey: *She straightens up with a puzzled smile, the towel dipping dangerously low as she turns—still oblivious to how her entire right cheek peeks out.* "Oh! Those black ones with the little bows?" *She giggles, shaking her head and making the towel slip further.* "They're so impractical though—wait, how did you even know I never—" *Her words cut off as the towel finally surrenders, pooling at her feet.*
Kelsey: *Standing there completely exposed in the morning light, she doesn't immediately react—her sleep-addled brain still processing the sudden chill against her bare skin. The scent of vanilla body wash lingers in the air as water droplets trickle down the curve of her ass toward her thighs. She finally glances down with a soft "Oh!", cheeks flushing pink, but makes no move to cover herself, just biting her lip with a shy grin.*
Jake: "Practically criminal," *he murmurs,* "hiding this under cotton granny panties every day." *His thumb swipes a stray water droplet from the small of her back, tracing lower.*
Kelsey: *She shivers at his touch, goosebumps rising across her bare skin as the morning air chills her damp body. Her nipples harden visibly, but she doesn't cross her arms—just tilts her head with that same oblivious innocence.* "They're not granny panties," *she protests weakly, biting her lip as his fingers skim the swell of her ass,* "just...normal? Like what everyone wears?" *Her breath hitches when his palm cups her cheek.*
Jake: *Normal sure, but imagine how you'd feel wearing the ones I got you*—he pulls her flush against him, letting her feel his erection through his boxers as he nips her earlobe.* "Black lace clinging to this ass," *his hands kneading her bare flesh possessively,* "that little bow right where I can peel it aside with my teeth." *He groans at the mental image, pressing her tighter against him.*
Kelsey: *Her breath comes faster as his words paint vivid pictures in her sleep-fogged mind, her body responding instinctively even as she tries to focus on getting ready for work.* "Mmm, but—the presentation," *she murmurs weakly, arching into his touch as his fingers trace the crease where her ass meets thigh, her nipples pebbling against his chest.*
Kelsey: *After a beat of hesitation, she pulls away just enough to meet his gaze—her cheeks flushed but her eyes suddenly decisive as she bites her lower lip.* "Fine," *she breathes,* "but only if you promise not to distract me at work today." *She turns toward the dresser with deliberate slowness, bending fully at the waist to retrieve the forbidden black lace from the bottom drawer, giving him an unobstructed view of her glistening folds from behind.*
The morning light catches every curve as she straightens, holding the delicate thong by its satin straps—a scandalous wisp of black lace barely wider than a shoelace, with tiny satin bows at each hip. The fabric pools in her palm like liquid shadow before she steps into it, the lace stretching taut as she pulls it up her thighs. It settles into place with a whisper against her skin, the narrow strip disappearing between her cheeks while the bows perch just above the crests of her hips, framing the dimples above her ass perfectly.
Jake: *His breath hitches as the lace clings to her curves like a second skin, the bows trembling with each shift of her hips.* "That's the most perfect thing I've ever seen." *The scent of her vanilla lotion mixes with the faint musk of their shower as he steps closer, fingertips ghosting over the satin bows.* "You're never wearing cotton again." *His erection strains against his boxers as the thin strap disappears between her cheeks, barely containing her.*
Kelsey: *She giggles, twisting slightly to admire herself in the mirror—completely unaware how the movement makes the thong ride up further, the lace stretching taut between her cheeks.* "It's...kinda comfy actually?" *Her fingers brush the bows experimentally, hips swaying as she reaches for her low-rise jeans.*
The black skinny jeans cling to her thighs like a second skin as she steps into them, the waistband sitting dangerously low—just barely covering the tops of the thong's bows. When she bends to zip them, the denim gapes open at the small of her back, revealing an uninterrupted strip of black lace trailing down between her cheeks before disappearing beneath the fabric.
Kelsey: *She tugs a cropped white t-shirt over her head, the hem barely meeting the waistband of her jeans, leaving a sliver of toned stomach exposed.* "Think this looks okay for the presentation?"
Jake: *His fingers twitch toward her hips as she bends again to grab her shoes, the jeans pulling taut across her ass while the thong strap peeks out above the waistband.* "More than okay—you're gonna drive me insane today."
Kelsey: *She balances on one foot while slipping into her sneakers, the stretch pulling her shirt up to reveal the full curve of her lower back where the thong disappears beneath denim.* "Hmm?" *She glances over her shoulder, still oblivious to the inch of exposed lace at her waistline as her jeans sag lower.* "What's wrong with this outfi—oh!" *She stumbles slightly, her jeans sliding down another half-inch as she catches herself.*
Jake: "Time to go, Kels," *he murmurs, voice strained as she straightens and the denim settles even lower on her hips, the black lace now permanently on display.* "We're gonna be late."
The garage smells of oil and cold concrete as Kelsey slides into the passenger seat, the leather upholstery creaking under her weight. Her movements make the low-rise jeans sag further—the waistband now resting just below the twin bows of her thong, exposing the full arch of lace framing the dimples above her ass. A stray sunbeam catches the shimmer of satin as she shifts to buckle her seatbelt.
SUMMARY^1: Kelsey's rushed morning routine causes constant wardrobe malfunctions—her coffee spill and hurried movements make her jeans slip lower, fully exposing the thong's lace waistband above her back pockets. Jake watches with barely contained arousal as she bends and twists, each motion revealing more skin until the thong's bows are permanently visible when they finally leave for work.
The car door creaks as Kelsey swings it open, her sneaker hitting the pavement with a soft thud—but as she stands, the motion drags her low-rise jeans down another inch, the denim catching on the swell of her hips before surrendering completely. The black lace thong now stretches taut across the full curve of her ass, the narrow strap disappearing between her cheeks while three inches of smooth skin glisten in the morning light above it. A breeze catches the hem of her cropped shirt, lifting it to reveal the twin satin bows perched just above the exposed flesh as she bends to grab her forgotten coffee cup from the cupholder.
The office lobby hums with fluorescent lights and hushed Monday morning chatter as Jake holds the door open—Kelsey brushing past him with a distracted smile, her tote bag swinging against her hip.
Kelsey: *She plops into her desk chair with a sigh, the leather creaking as she leans forward to boot up her computer—completely unaware how the motion hikes her jeans down another inch, the thong now stretched taut across her bare cheeks where they press against the seat. The air conditioning raises goosebumps along the exposed strip of skin between denim and cropped shirt as she taps her pen absently against her lips.* "Ugh, where'd I put those actuarial charts..."
The fluorescent lights catch every ridge of Kelsey's lower back as she bends over the printer—each vertebra visible beneath taut skin where her cropped shirt rides up. The dip of her spine disappears into the pronounced dimples above her hips, where sweat glistens against the fold of skin from sitting too long. Her jeans hang precariously low, the waistband now resting halfway down her ass cheeks, exposing three full inches of smooth skin before the black lace thong begins—the narrow strap digging deep between her cheeks as she leans further forward, the satin bows trembling with each movement while the office hums obliviously around her.
The printer whirs as Kelsey squats fully to reload paper—her knees spreading unconsciously as she balances on her toes, the denim pulling tight across her thighs while gaping completely at the back. The motion exposes the full curve of her ass cheeks meeting at the cleft, the thong's lace strap diving impossibly deep between them before disappearing entirely beneath taut fabric. Her shirt covers only the thong's waistband now, leaving just that narrow black strip visible down the center of her spine like a forbidden runway guiding the eye lower. A bead of sweat rolls down the exposed small of her back as she struggles with the paper tray, completely unaware how every shift makes the lace disappear further between her cheeks.
Jake: *From his vantage point behind her desk, the view is obscene—her bent-over posture makes her ass jut out proudly, the thong straps framing each cheek perfectly while the denim sags low enough to reveal the dimples above her hips. His fingers twitch toward his phone camera before he catches himself, clearing his throat instead.* "Need help with those charts, babe?" *His voice cracks as she straightens slightly, making the thong dig deeper into her cleft.*
Kelsey: *She barely glances over her shoulder, completely oblivious to the show she’s putting on for the entire office* "Ugh, yes—this printer hates me." *Her frustrated huff makes her ponytail sway as she bends back over, the jeans stretching tight across her thighs while gaping completely at the back.*
Jake: *His dress shoes click against the linoleum as he approaches—each step revealing more of the obscene view where her thong digs impossibly deep between her cheeks, the bows trembling with every frustrated jerk of the paper tray. The scent of her vanilla body wash mixes with the sharp tang of toner as he reaches around her, his forearm brushing the exposed strip of skin between shirt and jeans—hot and slightly damp from exertion.* "Here, let me—" *his voice catches as she shifts, making the lace disappear completely between her ass cheeks,* "—just gotta lift this lever."
Kelsey: *She leans back slightly against him, her ponytail tickling his chin as she blows a stray hair off her forehead—completely unaware how the movement makes her jeans sag another half-inch, the waistband now resting just above the crease where her thighs meet her ass.* "God, you're a lifesaver," *she murmurs, twisting to smile up at him.
Jake: "Should work now," *he rasps, stepping back before his hands can betray him and trace that exposed strip of skin.*
Kelsey: *She feels an unexpected draft against her lower back as she straightens, instinctively reaching behind with her left hand—fingers brushing denim where it meets bare skin. Assuming her usual cotton panties must've slipped down again, she tugs the jeans upward without checking, completely oblivious to how the black lace thong remains perfectly in place beneath the denim, the narrow strap now digging deeper between her cheeks from the adjustment.* "Thanks babe," *she murmurs absently, already turning back to her computer screen while the jeans immediately begin sliding down her hips again.*
Jake: "Presentation's in twenty," *he manages, voice rough as she stands and the jeans surrender another inch to gravity.*
Kelsey: *She stretches with arms overhead.* "Ugh, I'm so nervous!"
Jake: "You have nothing to worry about," *he murmurs, adjusting his tie while discreetly palming his erection through his slacks.* "Just be confident. Your research is solid."
Kelsey: *She twists toward the office mirror to check her appearance—the sudden movement making her shirt stretch tight across her chest as morning sunlight streams through the blinds. Her breath catches when she spots the unmistakable outline of her nipple through the thin white fabric, the pink peak clearly visible beneath the stretched cotton. She instinctively crosses her arms, cheeks flushing.* "Oh god—is this shirt too thin?"
Jake: *His gaze burns over the way her shirt clings to her skin —the fabric almost translucent where it stretches across her chest. He forces himself to look away before she notices his staring, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper.* "Looks professional to me," *he rasps, adjusting his tie again as she turns—the motion making her shirt ride up completely in back, exposing the full black lace thong digging deep between her cheeks.*
Kelsey: *She bites her lip, glancing between the mirror and her watch before grabbing a cream cardigan from her chair.* "I better throw a sweater on top—just in case." *The soft knit drapes over her shoulders but does nothing to cover the gaping back of her jeans, the sweater's hem stopping just above the exposed strip of black lace framing her ass crack as she bends to organize her notes.*
Twenty minutes later, the conference room hums with murmured conversations and tapping laptops as Jake holds the door open—Kelsey brushing past with her tablet clutched to her chest.
Kelsey: *She adjusts the microphone stand with nervous fingers, her foot tapping against the floor as she arranges her notes. A bead of sweat rolls down between her shoulder blades as she clears her throat* "Good morning everyone—today's presentation covers the new actuarial models for..." *Her voice wavers slightly as she leans forward to tap the screen*
Kelsey finishes her opening remarks with a relieved exhale, completely unaware how her jeans have settled halfway down her ass cheeks as she gestures toward Jake. "And now I'll hand it over to my partner on this project..." Her jeans surrender another fraction of an inch as she steps toward the front row, the black lace thong now the only thing separating her bare cheeks from the cold plastic chair when she sits—directly in front of the CFO.
Kelsey: *She crosses her legs unconsciously as Jake takes the podium, her sneaker bouncing against the tile—the rhythmic motion making the denim creep lower millimeter by millimeter. Her cardigan slips off one shoulder when she leans forward to take notes, exposing the black lace framing her ass crack to the entire second row.* "Interesting point," *she murmurs to herself, oblivious to how the CFO's gaze keeps flicking between her exposed back and the presentation.*
The CFO's pen pauses mid-scribble as Kelsey shifts in her seat—her jeans surrendering completely as they slide another inch down her hips, exposing twin dimples above the full curve of her ass cheeks where they press against the plastic chair. The thin black lace strap glistens with perspiration where it disappears between her cheeks, stretched impossibly taut against flushed skin. His throat bobs when she uncrosses and recrosses her legs, the denim gaping open completely at the back to reveal how the thong digs deeper with each movement, the bows trembling against newly exposed skin just above her tailbone.
The CFO leans forward unexpectedly, his cologne—something expensive with bergamot notes—washing over Kelsey as his lips brush her ear. "Excellent opening remarks," he murmurs, his breath warm against her neck while his gaze lingers on the inch of bare skin above her thong where her jeans sag precariously. His knuckles whiten around his pen when she turns to thank him, the motion making her cardigan slip off both shoulders completely, exposing the full arch of black lace disappearing between her cheeks to the entire front row.
Kelsey: *She flushes at the unexpected praise, twisting in her seat to acknowledge the CFO—completely oblivious to how the motion hikes her jeans down another half-inch, the waistband now resting just above the crease where her thighs meet her ass. The cardigan slips off completely as she gestures toward Jake's presentation slides, her fingers brushing the CFO's sleeve accidentally.* "Oh! Thank you, though Jake's the real expert on these models—" *Her breath hitches as the air conditioning raises goosebumps along her exposed back, still unaware of the black lace framing her ass crack for the entire executive team.*
Kelsey: *As she shrugs her cardigan back on and twists back, Kelsey feels the cold bar of the chair against her hips—her fingers instinctively brushing denim only to encounter bare skin. She freezes mid-sentence, finally noticing how low her jeans have slipped*
Kelsey: *Her breath catches when she glances down—seeing the full black lace whale tail exposed above her back pockets, the waistband stretching taut across her lower back where her sweater rides up. She scrambles to pull her jeans up, cheeks burning* "Oh god—how long has—" *Her whisper dies as she meets Jake's heated gaze across the room*
CFO: His polished leather loafers creak as he leans closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur while his cufflink glints in the fluorescent light. "Your partner seems...distracted," *he observes, lips quirking as Jake adjusts his tie for the third time in five minutes,* "Perhaps you should check your presentation notes again?" *His knuckles whiten around his pen when Kelsey bends to retrieve her folder, exposing the lace digging impossibly deep between her cheeks.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers fumble with the folder's edge as she straightens abruptly—cheeks flushing when she realizes the CFO's gaze keeps flicking downward. The air conditioning raises goosebumps along her newly exposed lower back where the cardigan fails to cover the inch of black lace peeking above her jeans, now permanently sagging below her hips.* "I—I think we have all the data here," *she stammers, pulling the folder against her chest as she crosses her legs tighter, making the denim stretch dangerously thin across her thighs.*
Kelsey: *"I'm so sorry,"* Kelsey croaks as she pulls up her jeans, her thumbnail catching on the lace waistband—completely unaware how the adjustment makes the thong dig deeper between her cheeks, the thin strap now framing each ass cheek perfectly. Her pulse thrums in her throat as she glances at Jake's rigid posture by the podium, his knuckles white around the clicker.*
CFO: *The CFO's polished oxfords pivot toward her, his tailored suit whispering against the chair as he leans in—his cologne mingling with the scent of her vanilla shampoo. "No need to apologize," he murmurs, fingers twitching toward the pen he's dropped twice already.
The presentation ends with Jake's clicker hand trembling—his knuckles white from gripping too tight while watching the CFO's gaze trace every inch of Kelsey's exposed back.
The drive home is silent except for the hum of tires on asphalt—Kelsey's fingers drumming nervously against her thigh where her jeans have ridden low enough to expose the delicate bow of her thong against pale skin. Every bump in the road makes the lace dig deeper between her cheeks, the fabric damp from hours of accidental exposure while Jake white-knuckles the steering wheel, replaying the CFO's lingering touch in his mind.
Kelsey: *She twists the hem of her sweater between her fingers, biting her lip hard enough to leave indentations before blurting,* "God, Jake—that presentation was a disaster. I bent over and my whole...back was out." *Her voice drops to a mortified whisper as she gestures vaguely behind her,* "The thong you picked, it—it kept showing above my jeans the whole time."
Jake: *His grip loosens on the wheel just enough to glance sideways—seeing the way her jeans already sag low again from nervous fidgeting, exposing that tempting strip of black lace.* "What do you mean?" *he asks carefully, eyes flicking back to the road while his pulse jumps at her accidental confession.* "You looked professional."
Kelsey: "First when I bent for the pen—my jeans just...dropped. Then every time I shifted in that plastic chair, they kept sliding lower." *Her fingers trace her collarbone nervously, unaware how her jeans ride dangerously low now, the lace waistband fully visible above her back pockets.* "And when I crossed my legs—god, Jake, the CFO kept staring at my..." *Her voice drops to a mortified whisper,* "...my ass."
Jake: *His knuckles whiten on the wheel again, replaying how the CFO's polished oxfords had inched closer each time Kelsey shifted—those expensive loafers angling toward her exposed back like a predator scenting prey. The memory of her jeans surrendering completely when she bent makes his throat tighten.* "I'm sure it wasn't that bad," *he murmurs, thumb tracing the steering wheel's stitching while sneaking another glance at her sagging jeans.* "How do you know it wasn't just a little skin?" *The lie tastes sweet on his tongue.*
Kelsey: "Because I *felt* the chair against my—" *her voice drops,* "—my bare cheeks, Jake. And when I straightened up, the CFO was staring at my...lower back."
Jake: "But you had the sweater covering you," *he murmurs carefully, biting back a groan when she shifts and the denim slides another inch down her thighs.*
Kelsey: "Only until I moved! And when I bent for that pen—Jake, my whole backside was out. I *felt* the CFO staring at me." *Her fingers pluck nervously at the sweater's hem, making it ride higher.*
Jake: "It's just an accident and I'm sure anyone who saw would understand," *he murmurs, thumb tracing the wheel's stitching.* "Haven't you seen that kind of thing with your friends or from your coworker Sarah? Wardrobe malfunctions happen."
Kelsey: "Not like this, Jake. Sarah wears granny panties—not...this." *Her fingers pluck nervously at the sweater's hem, making it ride higher.* "I felt the CFO's eyes *burning* into my skin when I bent over."
Jake: "Okay, well so what? Maybe you got a little attention," *he murmurs, eyes flicking to her lap where her jeans sag dangerously low, exposing the black lace waistband against her hipbone.* "How did it make you feel? Embarrassed...or something else?" *His thumb presses harder into the steering wheel's leather stitching, imagining the CFO's gaze tracing every inch of exposed skin.*
Kelsey: *She bites her lip hard enough to leave indentations, squirming slightly in the seat—completely unaware how the movement makes the lace thong ride impossibly higher between her cheeks.* "I don't know...maybe—maybe a little...hot?" *Her whisper dissolves into a shaky exhale as she crosses her legs tighter, making the denim stretch thin across her thighs.*
Jake: "Tell me more," *he murmurs, voice rough as his thumb presses into the leather stitching,* "About feeling hot. Did you like the CFO staring?" *The lie tastes sweet on his tongue—already knowing the answer from how her nipples peaked beneath her shirt during the meeting.*
Kelsey: "I—I don't know," *she whispers, fingers twisting the sweater hem higher,* "But when he leaned in...his breath was so warm on my neck. And I *felt* his eyes on my—" *Her voice drops to a mortified squeak,* "—on my ass crack."
The garage door groans shut behind them, sealing them in dim yellow light as Jake crowds Kelsey against the washing machine—his hands finding bare skin where her jeans sag dangerously low. His teeth graze her earlobe exactly where the CFO's breath had warmed her skin hours earlier, murmuring, "Tell me *exactly* what you felt," while his thumbs trace the sweat-damp lace waistband now fully exposed above her back pockets.
Kelsey: *She gasps as cold metal presses against her bare lower back—only now realizing how her jeans have slipped again completely below her hips, the thong's black lace stretched taut across flushed skin where Jake's fingers dig in. Her sweater rides up beneath his roaming hands, exposing twin dimples above her ass cheeks as she stammers,* "H-he kept staring when I bent over—like he *wanted* to see my—" *Her breath hitches as Jake's teeth graze that sensitive spot below her ear.*
Jake: *His palms slide up her exposed sides, thumbs tracing the sweat-damp lace waistband where it cuts into her hips—exactly where the CFO's gaze had lingered during the meeting.* "And what did you want him to do?" *he murmurs against her ear, teeth grazing the same spot the older man's breath had warmed,* "When he saw your perfect ass framed in that lace?"
Kelsey: *Her breath comes in shallow gasps as Jake's knee presses higher between her thighs—the cold washer biting into her exposed lower back. The black lace thong rides impossibly higher with every shift, the thin strap disappearing between her flushed cheeks as she whimpers,* "I—I don't know...maybe touch me like—"
*Kelsey sinks to her knees—the lace thong pulling taut between her bare cheeks as denim pools around her thighs—her lips parting over Jake's zipper with a shaky exhale. The CFO's lingering gaze still burns across her skin as she frees him, her tongue tracing the same path her accidental exposures had taken all afternoon—from the slow slip of her jeans to the moment her entire ass had been framed in black lace for the room.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers tremble against his thighs as she takes him deep—completely oblivious to how her jeans surrender completely now, sagging past her hips to expose the full curve of her ass and the damp lace vanishing between her cheeks. The cold garage floor bites into her bare knees while her sweater rides up, revealing twin dimples above her hips where the CFO's gaze had lingered.*
Jake: *His fingers tighten in her hair—not pulling, just anchoring as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Here she was on her knees, that same black lace framing her ass exactly as it had for the entire executive team. His thumb traces the sweat-damp bow between her shoulder blades,* "Tell me you thought about this," *he rasps,* "When you felt his eyes burning into you."
Kelsey: "I—I imagined his hands right...here," *her fingers brush the exposed dimples above her ass,* "While you watched."
Kelsey: *Her breath hitches as she realizes how much skin she's showing—the entire back of her thong exposed where her jeans pool around her thighs, the cold air making her nipples peak beneath her sweater. A damp patch forms between her legs as she takes Jake deeper, her own arousal soaking through the lace pressed tight against her.*
Jake's release hits with a groan—his fingers twisting in her hair as his hips jerk forward, painting her tongue with thick pulses while the washing machine's vibrations make her exposed ass cheeks tremble.
Jake: *He pulls her up by the waistband of her thong—the lace snapping against damp skin. His teeth graze her shoulder where the CFO's cologne had lingered, murmuring,* "You're gonna wear an even tinier thong tomorrow," *while his palm slides down to cup her bare cheek, fingers tracing the sweat-slick strap disappearing between them.* "And those jeans that slide down every time you breathe."
Kelsey: *Her breath hitches as his fingers dig into the lace cutting between her cheeks* "B-but what if—" *Her protest dies when his thumb brushes the damp lace clinging to her,* "—what if they slip again?"
Jake: "Then they slip," *he murmurs against her ear, teeth grazing the spot where the older man's cologne still lingers,* "And everyone sees how fucking perfect you look."
Jake: *He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small black box—the kind that usually holds jewelry—but when he flips it open, it reveals a pair of delicate lace V-strings from Victoria's Secret, the front and back strings connected by thin metal rings that would glint with every movement.* "I bought these for you yesterday," *he murmurs, thumb tracing one of the cold metal circles that would press directly against her lower back whenever she bent over.*
Kelsey: *Her fingers hover over the barely-there lingerie—so sheer it looks like two strings connected by metal rings—completely oblivious to how the waistband of her current thong peeks above her sagging jeans as she leans closer.* "Jake, these are...they're practically nothing," *she whispers, cheeks flushing as she imagines the metal rings pressing into her skin beneath her work clothes, the strings disappearing between her cheeks with every step.*
Jake: *His pulse thrums at her hesitation, eyes tracing the way her sweater rides up to expose the black lace waistband digging into her hips—already imagining how the new thong's metal rings would glint against her skin when she bent to retrieve files tomorrow. He keeps his voice carefully neutral,* "Just try them on. If you don't like how they feel, we'll return them." *The lie tastes sweet—he knows exactly how they'll feel when her jeans inevitably slide down her hips.*
Steam curls around the bathroom doorframe as Kelsey steps out—towel-drying hair dripping onto bare shoulders while she rummages through the drawer for the scandalous V-string Jake had gifted her. The barely-there lingerie consists of two thin lace strings connected by cold metal rings—one loop resting against her lower back, the other pressing against her pelvis—with nothing but a whisper of fabric between her cheeks. She hesitates before sliding them on, the metal circles glinting under bathroom lights as she pairs them with her tightest white low-rise jeans and a cropped lavender sweater that'll ride up with every reach.
Kelsey: *Her fingers fumble with the delicate metal clasps of the V-string, cheeks flushing as the cold rings press into her hipbones. The lace between her cheeks feels impossibly thin as she steps into her tightest denim, gasping when the waistband catches on the metal ring and pulls it taut against her lower back. "I'm heading to the grocery store," she calls to Jake, oblivious to how the sweater hikes up when she bends to tie her sneakers—exposing the full arch of the V-string's metal circle glinting against her spine.*
The grocery store fluorescents catch on the metal ring peeking above Kelsey's low-rise jeans as she reaches for cereal—the lavender sweater riding up to reveal not just the glinting circle pressed into her lower back, but the twin strings of sheer sky blue lace vanishing between her cheeks completely. Every lean forward makes the denim surrender another inch down her hips, the cold metal pressing deeper into flushed skin while oblivious fingers push her slipping jeans back up—only for them to slide down again moments later when she stretches for the top shelf.
Kelsey's neighbor Mrs. Henderson pauses mid-reach for bran flakes—her gaze flickering down to where Kelsey's jeans sag precariously low, exposing the full curve of sky blue lace framing her ass crack as she bends further. The older woman's teenage daughter drops her phone with a clatter, eyes widening at the way the metal ring glints against Kelsey's spine whenever she shifts—the strings between her cheeks pulling impossibly taut with each movement.
Kelsey crouches deeper to retrieve a fallen box of granola bars—completely oblivious to how her jeans slide past her hips to expose twin crescent moons of bare flesh where the lace rides up. The metal ring presses cold against her tailbone while the strings dig impossibly deeper between her cheeks, the thin fabric dampening as she stretches further—her sweater hiking up to reveal the full arch of her lower back to the frozen cereal aisle behind her.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman's knuckles whiten around her shopping cart handle—her gaze flickering between her daughter's stunned expression and Kelsey's exposed lower half. The sky blue strings have ridden up completely between the younger woman's cheeks now. She clears her throat sharply, *"Sweetheart, your—"* before catching herself, watching instead how Kelsey's oblivious shift makes the lace disappear impossibly deeper.
Emily: She stammers out, *"M-mom, should we—"* before Mrs. Henderson's warning grip on her wrist silences her.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman exhales sharply through her nose—eyes flickering from her daughter’s mortified blush to the way Kelsey’s sweater stretches taut across her arched back, exposing twin dimples framing the metal ring digging into her tailbone. Her grip tightens on the cart handle as she mutters, *"Look away, Emily,"* right as Kelsey shifts forward on her toes—jeans surrendering completely to pool around her thighs and revealing the sheer blue strings clinging to damp skin between her cheeks like spiderwebs.
Kelsey's neighbor clears her throat sharply—the sound cutting through the hum of refrigerated cases—but Kelsey merely turns with a sunny smile, oblivious to how the motion makes her jeans slide another inch down her hips. The metal ring glints under fluorescent lights as she cocks her head, *"Mrs. Henderson! Hi!"*—her cheerful greeting drawing the attention of passing shoppers to where her denim now clings precariously to the curve of her ass, the sky blue strings stretched taut across flushed skin.
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman's gaze darts between Kelsey's oblivious smile and the way her sweater has ridden up completely. She swallows hard, gripping her daughter's wrist tighter as she forces out, *"You're, ah—your outfit is very...modern today."*
Kelsey: "Oh thanks! Jake picked this sweater for me—" *Her fingers tug absentmindedly at her slipping waistband, succeeding only in hiking the sweater higher.*
Emily: Emily's voice cracks as she blurts, *"Kelsey, I—I think what my mom means is that your underwear is showing!"* Her face flames scarlet as she gestures wildly at where the sky blue strings have ridden up completely—framing Kelsey's bare ass cheeks with nothing but damp lace and glinting metal rings.
Kelsey: *The realization hits like ice water when she cranes her neck to see her jeans dip down her hips, the sheer blue strings digging between her cheeks while the metal ring glints against her tailbone for the whole aisle to see.* "Oh my GOD—" *Her hands fly back to cover herself, knocking over a cereal display in her panic as shoppers scramble to look anywhere else.*
Kelsey: *Her cheeks burn hotter than the fluorescents as she yanks up her jeans with trembling hands—the metal ring scraping against her tailbone painfully in her haste. The sky blue lace clings damply between her cheeks as she stammers,* "I-I didn't realize—" *before realizing Mrs. Henderson's daughter had been staring the entire time, making her fumble with the sweater now stretched tight across her heaving chest.*
Mrs. Henderson: The older woman pointedly turns her cart away—knuckles white around the handle as she mutters, *"Emily, we're switching aisles,"* while dragging her gaping daughter past the toppled cereal display. Her last glance catches how Kelsey's jeans already sag again at the hips, the metal ring peeking above denim like a brand.
As Mrs. Henderson pivots sharply, Kelsey catches the unmistakable outline of a sheer lavender thong beneath the older woman's tailored linen pants—the delicate V-string pressing against her lower back in the exact same way Kelsey's own lingerie digs between her cheeks. The realization hits like lightning: Mrs. Henderson wears a cream blouse tucked into high-waisted taupe slacks that cling to surprisingly full hips, the thin fabric stretched taut enough to reveal every ridge of the lace waistband and the telltale glint of metal rings when she bends to grab Emily's wrist.