White and pink paisley.
That was all I could think about on the drive home from school.
How badly I wanted to pull out my phone out to get a third, fourth, fifth look at the picture Leslie texted me just before the end of class. It wasn’t much, just a hint of the soft skin of her inner thighs right up the hemline of her white and pink panties. Just enough to get the idea of what I was looking at. Just enough to leave me rock hard and dying for release. Sadly, I had to get home–strict parents and whatnot–so it was hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. But fuck how my mind was racing.
Pulling into the driveway I noticed my sister’s car was gone (recent college grad, stuck at home due to the shitty job market) as was my mother’s. Not entirely unusual, but typically my mom stuck around in the afternoon’s to “make sure I didn’t get into trouble,” as if I was still a little kid. (In my defense, the time I set a part of the garage on fire was an honest accident and no one got hurt. Yes, the lawnmower was destroyed but it was a piece of shit anyway.)