Enlighten me." Tommy said, still looking at her worn purple panties, still not knowing why.Ariadne sped off from their place of learning onto the main road. Without looking at him, she said:"Tommy, those panties that you hold... they have powers. They are guardians. The last line of defense towards the sweet treasure that almost every man wants and dreams about... The vagina. The kitty. The pussy. Like bras, the panties are the bouncer that go on in that exclusive club that many men want, but can't get in. Don't get me started about bras, though. They are for another day. There is a certain science to our undergarments, Thomas."Tommy looked at her incredulously. This was more than what he asked for."Okayyy, what science?" He asked."We want to look sexy for our men, but sexy hurts sometimes, you know? Also, there is always an unknown variable... what does said man like? Which is where you come in. For example, Tommy, are you a tits or ass man?" "Firstly, Ari, I'm an ass man. But. Ron dreamt of seeing his outwardly conservative Junior League, Daughter of the American Revolution, PTA wife in the most degrading, undignified, shameful scenarios. In fact, on the rare occasion he could get completely hard, it was always to fantasies of her being savagely fucked by a group of black men with enormous cocks that treated her like less than trash. It never failed that when they were coming home from visiting her parents in NJ, Ron would “get lost” in Harlem, driving up and down streets, secretly hoping to get carjacked. In all of his travels, the worst thing that ever happened was somebody offered to give him directions to the L.I.E. Tricia would heighten his arousal by bitching and complaining the entire time, fueling his desires with her paranoid, racist rants. “JEEZ Ron, can’t you ever fucking get anything right? I swear, it’s bad enough that you insist on driving the Jag every time we go to my parents but you ALWAYS get lost up here ‘in the hood’. If I.
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