like you’re going to meet pope at his skatepark after a lil mall trip, and you’re wearing them. it’s a cooler summer day in oceanside, and when you come barreling out of your lil pink 1970s buggy (that andrew bought & fixed up for you), your sweats cling tight to your thick thighs. craig, deran, j & andrew sit near the half-pipe, shooting the shit and chatting when you yell from the other side of the fence “hi baby!!!”
andrew’s head whips around to see you smiling & waving with your bags, “hey sweetheart, how’d it go?”
you round the bend of the park, flip flops making a satisfying click as you come up to your fiancé with a kiss. placing the bags down haphazardly, you readjust your sunnies to sit on top of your head, and push the lil hairs away from your face. “wellllll… i got a couple new things!”
deran, who truthfully adores you, tilts his beer and leans back, “lets see ‘em”
getting excited, you smile and try and catch your breath, andrew staring you down in what, you know, to be affection. “okay, okay so,” you reach into the first bag placed in front of your feet, pulling out an adorable pair of white platform flip flops. “okay so these were like… $25-ish and i just think they’d be soooo cute for the beach, right baby?” andrew’s well trained, he nods a soft “mhm” and you beam.
going through your haul, you’re excited to continue showing the boys, when you realize you can’t find your most exciting bag in front of you. “oh no wait!” :(
“whatsa matter baby?” andrew sits up, still manspreading but more attentive as your eyes flit around the sandy lot, suddenly giggling when you feel the paper victoria’s secret bag behind your haunches. “oh, duh! okay here’s the best part.”
whipping around you bend at the waist, back perfectly arched as you dig through the bag. purple rhinestones shine in the summer sun, a perfect swell of “juicy” written across your ass. your little heart tramp stamp, a small A carved into your left hip, peaks out from the top of your sweats. craig didn’t even know you had a tattoo.
deran smiles to himself, j looks down with a smirk, and craig lets out a pronounced “fuck” as he watches you. but andrew? between the saliva pooling on his tongue & the desire to bend you over the half pipe while you show him all your pretty dresses, is immediately standing. slotting his cock against your ass to cover you, he feels the bejeweled spots rubbing into his denim as you “oof!” in surprise.
calling over his shoulder he grits out “alright dickheads, get out.” each brother smiles, getting up and leaving. you’re still looking through your bag, uncaring that pope essentially has you in standing doggy in broad daylight— whatever pope does i’m sure he has a reason!
it’s all so fun, andrew standing rigid against you as he watches his brothers leave. it’s almost exhilirating when j bends down to your face level with a smile, “i like your sweatpants, see you later” and walks out.
safe to say that you won’t be wearing these out again. especially not after andrew came all over the velvet, a cock shaped sweat stain melted into the fabric, and the diamonds on “j” and “c” are now all missing.
but who cares? you still have the lil bikini set he bought you!
