Snips and Scraps

We'll pause on Amanda's tale for now. After all, her first exploration into her sexuality was a whirlwind that started with hiring me and her stripping in a store. Similarly, I knew who I was early on, yet certain nuances were discovered fresh as my journey progressed. Lucy was more than a tutor there--a kinky friend with benefits who taught me that being decent is no fun.

I met Lucy at a bar while celebrating something or other. A friend's birthday maybe? I do remember waking up stark naked in a strange bed with a killer hangover. The room was homey and feminine, so I wasn't as panicked as I probably should have been when I didn't readily find any of my belongings. I wrapped a fleece zebra-print blanket around my body and staggered out to the would-be hall.

Instead, it was an open-plan loft. Lucy was picking up scattered clothes from around the room, and another woman was facing the stove complaining about the sexual tornado that wrecked her apartment. Clumsily, I tried to retreat to the room whence I came, and thankfully Lucy was the one who looked. She snatched up some items from the couch and herded me back.

She apologized profusely as she untangled the bundle of cloth in her arms and I sat back onto the bed, letting the blanket fall from my breast. She handed me my top, threw her own in the hamper, dropped a pair of leggings on the floor, and looked bemused at a piece of green lace in her hands. It was definitely one of my bralettes, but shredded to ribbons. I had finished tugging my top on when I noticed the rag and swallowed nervously before groggily asking, "What happened last night?"

"You and I had the time of our lives," she half-giggled as she handed me the scrap. "We literally tore each other's clothes off." Lucy then produced a pair of light grey cotton panties, gashes torn in the fabric in several places and overall clearly stretched out.

I let my fingers explore the remains of my under-top. The delicate lace clung to itself in a desperate, frayed web, eager to return to swaddling my petite bust. It wouldn't. Instead, it had died in a blaze of glory at the hands of the woman before me. "

How

literally?" I croaked, still aching but now fueled by a touch of lust.

"Fortunately, you can wear your own clothes home," she said with a smile. "Your jeans defended your honor well until I pried them off, and your top is fine if a little battered. Your undies are a different story. There's your bra, and I can't find your panties."

Even with a throbbing head, I doubted the last to be true. She had likely squirreled my panties away as a trophy of her conquest. I knew I did it, and now I was on the receiving end. Hell, it was the first time I was on the receiving end of the whole ordeal. Worse, despite my self-loathing at the situation, I found it incredibly arousing.

"I--think I'll be leaving," I murmured. With gracelessness unmatched by the most clumsy of drunks, I pulled myself from her bed and made my way into the open space. I recall listening to my bare feet padding across the floor, the cool of the apartment kissing everything below my navel, nearly feeling the stare from Lucy's roommate. It was otherwise silent as I rolled my jeans up my bare legs, grabbed my shoes and purse, and left barefoot and undie-less.

Outside I realized that Lucy lived only a short walk from me. Counting my blessings, I made my way home and collapsed on my bed after eating a handful of aspirin. I awoke feeling much more refreshed and reflected on the night before. The adorable woman in a cutesy, oversized tee was originally a confident, vinyl-clad goddess whom my friends cheered as we made out. I still recall cradling the petite woman into my six-foot frame in a secluded booth and asking why her tits were bigger than mine. The answer is lost to memory, and the next portion of the night that lives is the feeling of her warm breath dance across my bald sex through torn panties as ragged lace tickled my nipples...

I broke my own rule about one-night-stands and immediately texted her: "had a great time. sorry for being sick. lets do it again soon". That afternoon was spent mostly in the nude exploring my closet for outfits that had been forgotten long ago. The night was spent with friends who wanted a tell-all, but I had to play coy. After all, I was still trying to figure out what to do with Lucy and a newly-unleashed desire.

Much to my happiness, Lucy had agreed to a date a few days later. She proposed a quiet bar I knew only in passing to serve as the setting, and she promised something fun while there. It was dim and a little dingy, and I felt far overdressed in the red floral print dress and white stockings I had selected. Still, such a choice was for Lucy and what I was about to beg from her.

Lucy came in almost as soon as I did and my heart leapt. She was gorgeous yet again in a cute green long-sleeve bodycon dress that laced up over her ample cleavage and ended only halfway down her bare thigh. Even in her platform wedges, she was noticeably shorter than me, and her eager embrace accentuated the difference as I tilted my head down for a quick kiss.

"I wouldn't think you had girly-girl outfits," she giggled after looking me over. "But I think we have similar thoughts about the night." Running her hands over the skirt of her dress, she smiled as the resulting smoothness hinted at either an absence of panties or the work of something scandalously small. I couldn't stop staring at my lovely friend, and as she approached the bartender, I felt compelled to watch her firm, sashaying ass.

Lucy and the bartender exchanged familiar pleasantries. I was introduced as Lucy's date, and the woman behind the bar revealed that she was the owner's daughter. I recall her making a sideways comment about not causing trouble. Soon, I was led to a dim corner and we sipped on our beers while chatting about usual first date stuff. It lasted for all of fifteen minutes before Lucy interrupted the stream of thought.

"I'm not really looking for a girlfriend," she confessed. "I'm looking for fun, and you are the most fun I've had." She paused, bit her lip, and continued, "We really tore into each other, and, well, our clothes." She stopped as though she had just said something to make me run. In reality, I was speechless, but excited. "My biggest kink is exhibition, especially destroying clothes. I want to do it again. With you."

I remember simply nodding in agreement as my mouth betrayed my heart. "Me too." That faint memory from my bender was far too titillating to not relive. Sure, I had forcibly removed the clothes from submissive partners in the past, but

this

was something else, something entirely new. Lucy's face, once sultry and aloof, had shifted to one of girlish excitement.

"You mean it? Really?" she responded incredulously. She fumbled around in her purse for a moment and withdrew a smaller black bag--a sewing kit. From there, she produced a pair of tiny scissors, passed them to me, and instructed, "Cut the laces out." She proudly pushed her chest forward, the lace-up straining against its paired prisoners. My hands trembled as I lined up the blades on one of the bottom loops. I glanced over my shoulder, making sure we were alone in our dark little corner of the world. Lucy's breathing quickened as I made eye contact with her and her plush lips whispered, "Do it."

Despite the loudness of the music and the murmur of other patrons, I the snip was deafening. Freed from its bonds, the tight fabric gave way with a sigh and slid down her breast just barely. I savored each cut, breaking the eyelets from the body of the dress and removing all hope of re-lacing it. Soon, I held a tangled string in my hand and Lucy's once-skintight outfit relaxed around her shoulders and bosom. She gave me a passionate kiss and deftly picked up the scissors from the table.

"You're too beautiful to be so modest," she taunted while tracing my breasts with the scissors. "Do you want to join in?" she asked as she cut through the cord that once held her breast in check.

"Oh goddess, yes!"

"And how far can I go?"

"All the way." It tumbled out of my mouth before I could even think, but once my thinking did kick in, I realized it was what I wanted. This wasn't 'my' bar, I didn't recognize anyone here, and the beautiful woman beside me was somehow in charge. At my response, her face brightened even more, her tongue invaded my mouth in a passionate kiss, and her hands made a tiny knick through the hem of my knee-length dress.

The cut wasn't too deft. It took her a few tries to actually bite through, and the small blades made a slit barely a centimeter up my right leg. She'd have to content herself with cutting the buttons off the top or clipping holes in my stockings. Lucy set the scissors on the table, a half-pout on her face. Her dainty fingers traced the frayed notch in the fabric before gripping either side of the cut.

"Wait--," I said without real conviction a heartbeat too late. The popping sound of breaking fabric echoed from our booth as she tore a slit up my leg to my waist. I gasped as the dress fell in a way to showcase the lithe leg beneath, white nylon falsely-advertising purity.

"Your turn, babe," Lucy coaxed with a devilish smile. I debated internally whether to take revenge with its inevitable end or to try to hold the rip shut and bow out of the date. Public nudity was new to me, and didn't decency laws prohibit that sort of thing? We were a long way from naked, but seeing the eager gleam in her eye let me know that was where our tryst was going.

Of course, thinking too much allows your otherwise idle hands to act on their own. I had snipped some of the fabric hiding her belly and tugged. Soft, lily-white skin spilled into view as the green cotton parted. The result was a large, asymmetrical tear that sat low on her left side and barely hinted at her belly-button. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to the exposed flesh, marking her in bright red as

mine

.

We quickly forgot about our drinks and the bar at large as we set to continuing our alterations. A haze of giddy excitement descended on us as we played with the scissors in our dark corner. Her dress tore down the front; my straps were snipped away; dangerously long slits were added to ever-shortening hemlines; her stringy panties were turned into a choker; my stockings became decorative webbing. It was only when I reached for my empty glass that it was clear in my mind where we were and what we were doing.

"Um, Lucy? We can't leave like this," I stated matter-of-factly and started tying my skirt somewhat closed.

It was her turn with the scissors, and she immediately targeted the Gordian knot, the dull blades eating through my hasty fix. "We can, and we will with our heads held high," she replied while tearing the 'slit' to just shy of my nearly-nonexistent bust. "One more round, then we march out of here like queens." she asked while grabbing her phone and nimbly texting.

I kept the scissors firmly in my possession while Lucy played with her phone. The limp rags of her outfit begged me to finish it off. The dress, which was once nearly painted-on, hung as ribbons that tantalizingly obscured the woman's form. Green cloth swaddled white flesh that had been decorated with my kisses. Of course, my own dress was no better off as I tried to keep a little decent while playing in such a lewd manner.

My musing was interrupted by the bartender approaching with the next round. She stopped short of the table when she noticed Lucy, then stormed up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she whisper-screamed. "You can't do this here!" Despite her apparent anger, I remember her thoroughly inspecting both Lucy and me. "You're leaving. Now," she continued as she addressed Lucy's deceptively large breasts.

She gestured for us to stand, and we did leaving behind chunks of our dresses as well as my badly-damaged ballet flats. The bartender blocked our path to the door, however, and she nodded for us to go through a door marked Staff Only. It led into a small, dirty kitchen and a wolf-whistle let us know we were being watched. I swear the middle-aged cook's leer was so intense it could have burned off the remains of our outfits. Then, we were shown to the rear exit and promptly told to never come back.

As the door slammed behind us, the petite Lucy pushed me into the wall and began kissing anything her lips could reach. Loving pecks rained down on my chest and shoulders and I pulled her in for more passionate returns. I even recall allowing myself to trace a little strip of fur to an eager womanhood and forcing Lucy to give a little shriek of satisfaction.

My still-soaked fingers took hold of her g-string collar as I offered breathlessly, "Let's go back to mine." Her hands traced my erect nipples through the tatters of my bra, down across my toned tummy, and over the stocking-obscured band of my now crotchless panties. She worked her way around my waist, cupped my buttocks, and let her fingernails bite through the fragile, still-intact bottom of my stockings.

As I began to feel an erotic draft, she smiled with that wicked look she had before. I felt her pulling the seat of my panties and the popping of the well-worn fabric. "Two options. We walk now, or we take a cab in a second. I'll pay the fare, but you'll be riding naked. Consider it the price of privacy."

My face burned as the cat who got the cream smiled at me, plucking at loose threads in my garb. I knew I didn't want to walk all the way home in rags and stocking feet; I also wanted to have some decency when I got in since my neighbors often talked to me about my frequent late-night guests. Then again, coming home looking like I was mauled by a bear might prompt a stronger response.

Biting my lip, I shrugged. "I didn't expect to be naked

this

soon, but okay." Even before I finished, Lucy set to tearing apart my remaining scraps of decency. I couldn't help but gasp in pleasure and giggle in excitement as she worked. I let her enjoy the process, and only helped when steadfast bands or stubborn seams slowed her carnage. Soon, I was standing in an alley naked save the purse I held over my sex and some stringy thigh-highs that were the remains of my once-modest stockings.

"Since I'm so generous, I'll let you keep these," she joked as she tore open the right foot I had lifted for her fashion sense's approval. She admired her handiwork for a second, and then ticked away on her phone to summon our chariot. It seemed like an eternity standing there. When you're fully dressed you don't notice how chilly or damp a night can be. Thankfully, Lucy and I spent most of the time pressed into each other which definitely kept the cold away.

When the car arrived, we approached hastily from behind and jumped in. The young woman driving us apparently hadn't seen us and she nonchalantly began to drive while confirming, "Lucy, right?" It was only when she hit a stoplight that she glanced into the mirror and saw the display of flesh that was my stripped form. She gawked for a second as I covered up with my hands, then asked quietly, "Is everything alright?"

"It's been wonderful," I replied sincerely, keeping eye contact with the shocked cabbie. She was quiet as her eyes flicked between Lucy and me, and a car behind us honked when the light changed. Her eyes fixed on the road and she didn't even glance in her mirrors for the rest of the trip. Meanwhile, Lucy and I were well-behaved, innocent young women sitting in chaste silence.

When we got back to my place, she asked if we wanted to be dropped anywhere specific. I said I couldn't think of a reason to go in the back and instructed her to drop us at the front entrance--well lit and busy at this time of night. We disembarked to whoops and whistles, and I made sure to make a little show of trying to be modest. We garnered stares from some other people who lived in the building as we crossed the lobby to the elevator, but the ride up was a brief and passionate ride with just the two of us.

The hall to my door was deserted, and I stopped short of unlocking the door. "You can't wear

that

into my apartment," I scolded as I tugged a ribbon of Lucy's dress. She smiled the whole time she snipped apart the little connected bits until the green sagged off her body and onto the floor. Stepping off her shoes, she reached up to untie her panty-choker, but was stopped short. With the g-string leash, I led her home, naked and mine for a night.