Since junior high, I have always had a fetish for panties, especially thong panties. I love seeing them peak up the back, and when I can see them thro...ugh or just the line of the girl’s thong through their leggings, I can’t help but rub myself a little. My heart flutters, and I feel like I’m in on their little secret. One day, after mulling it over in my head, I decided to raid my sister Brenda’s panty drawer. Only thongs! I had hit the jackpot and thus started my wearing habits. First it would. Each time a load of hot cum would be emptied down my throat I would then spit out the empty tube of meat and proclaim my love and need for more before desperately seeking a new and still cum loaded cock for my hungry mouth. The last thing I can remember was being carried around and impaled on dick after dick in what seemed like forever. With that memory came an orgasm that made me lose consciousness for a moment. You see, there aren’t many things that I love more than the carry and impale game.. Your hands leave my hair and move down my back and over my sides. Your fingers curl around the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my back. The cool air of the room gives me goose bumps and makes me shiver. We sit up and you pull my shirt over my head and I pull yours off too. I fall back on top of you and kiss you harder. I move down your body and kiss your neck. Your hands move over my back along my spine. I lift myself onto my arms and off of your body. I move further down to kiss the top. ” I winked. “Well it looked like you wanted to blow me this morning.” I decided to play along. “That’s because I wanted that juicy dick.” His mouth almost dropped to the floor and he instantly got hard. “Oh really?” “Really.” I giggled and splashed him with water. “So it’s like that?” he dug his hands in the soap and splashed it on my shirt. “That’s my favorite shirt!” I whined and filled a cup up with water and poured it down his shirt. Before long we were wrestling on the floor and he was.