I didn’t realize until recently that going to a wedding without a date could be AWESOME.

“These jeans are trash,” Robert said when he got home. He’d been out helping one of our friends put up a new shed, and he had apparently pushed the limits of what fabric can be expected to endure. The jeans had been on their last legs, so to speak, for a while now. The knees were gone. One pocket was missing. But this was new. This was obscene. I could see his blue-and-white striped boxers through the hole.

Robert wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. His hair looked even blonder than it had just that morning, as if the sun had beat the color out of it. We were in the middle of a serious heat wave. I’d hardly managed to keep my clothes on, finally settling on a thin coral shirt and a tiny miniskirt.

“How do you even rip jeans like that?” I asked, eying the crotch. The hole was right at the base of the zipper.

“Shouting out our bliss together, we reached a MUTUAL ‘O.’”

He shrugged. He clearly didn’t care about the hows. He was ready to toss the pants in the garbage. I wasn’t quite as ready.

While he poured himself a glass of lemonade, I kept watching him. He was sweaty from working in the sun all day, but he looked as sexy as fuck to me. Like a construction worker in a beefcake calendar. The fact that his jeans had finally given up the ghost made him even sexier. I watched as he fished out an ice cube from his drink and ran it over his forehead. He was hot. But I was feeling hotter.

I got on my knees in front of him, as if to inspect the damage, but really with an ulterior motive in mind. The kitchen floor felt deliciously cool on my bare knees.

“You know, you look good down there,” Robert said, and he pet my hair back from my face.

I grinned at him. “You look good from here,” I said, and I stuck two of my fingers into the naughty hole in his pants and then began to stroke him through his boxers.

He grunted and bucked forward. I used my other hand to widen the hole. The ripping sound of the fabric turned me on almost instantly. “Do me a favor,” I said, and my voice was a little rough, a little raw.

“Anything you desire,” said the man with the rock-hard cock.

“Take those jeans off, lose the boxers, and then put them on again.”

“Are you kidding?”

I shook my head.

“You’d like that, Maggie?”

“You have no idea.”

Robert got out of his work boots, stripped off his jeans, and then posed for a moment. Oh, holy hell did he look handsome. The muscles on his thighs flexed. His ass was dreamy. He gave me a moment to simply say “fuck it” and do him right then. But I wanted what I wanted. When he put his jeans back on, I could touch him through the hole in the crotch. My fingertips met his silky naked skin. He groaned even louder. Then I got my mouth involved, licking him through the hole. I don’t know why this increased my arousal so much. But there was something a little kinky about playing with him like this. I reached for his glass of lemonade. He seemed to understand what I was going for. He handed me the glass. I was the one to snag an ice cube now. I sucked hard on the cube, then licked him through the denim glory hole once more.

“That’s so cold,” he said.

“But you like it?”

“Yeah.”

Robert pushed forward, and suddenly I needed better access. I used both hands this time to decimate the denim, ripping the fabric even further. Robert seemed as excited as I was. He was staring down at me with a look of fierce focus in his eyes. I got his cock and balls out through the hole. He told me that he liked feeling the soft threads of the frayed denim on his skin. I took his dick in my mouth and bobbed my head up and down a few times, making him good and wet. Next, I took his balls in my mouth and sucked firmly. Then I released him, stood up and said, “Keep those on and fuck me.”

“Through the jeans?”

“Through the jeans.”

“Why does this turn you on so much?” he asked.

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have an answer. There was just something delicious about having him partly clothed like that. As if I’d been unable to tame my lust and I’d shredded the clothes right off him.

“I took his dick in my mouth and bobbed my head up and down.”

I stood and got ready to lift my skirt. Robert stopped me. “You don’t think you’re getting away that easy, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“How much do you like your skirt?”

I cocked my brow at him. Then I looked down at the pale yellow cotton miniskirt I was wearing.

“This old thing?” I asked.

“Good answer.”

He put both hands on the hem and pulled upward. The threadbare fabric seemed to shriek a little as it gave way. My panties were next. I was wearing a tiny tangerine-colored thong. That didn’t take Robert two seconds to tear. As my panties fluttered to the floor, I couldn’t believe how wet I was. The act of destroying those jeans had ramped up my arousal. Having Robert rip my clothes off made me even more of a she-cat in heat. In a frenzy, he bent me over our wooden kitchen table and then he was in me. I could feel the worn fabric of the jeans against my legs, and Robert’s warm cock plunging through the hole in the pants and into my hole.

Robert was definitely starting to understand, because he said, “Do you like that T-shirt?”

I still had the coral V-neck on. It was one of my older tees, and not one that had any sentimental value to it. “Rip it!” I insisted.

The tearing of the fabric brought me to my first climax. He had no problem ripping the shirt right down the seam. My pussy contracted around his rod. He could feel my inner muscles squeezing him and releasing, over and over. Who’d have thought that killing our clothes would turn us on so much?

Robert shredded my shirt to bits. I cried out as he reached his own climax, coming on the back of my thighs so I was all sticky. I turned around to face him, my shirt in tatters, fluttering. We looked as if we’d been through some type of explosion. I watched as he took off what was left of the pants. I followed suit, stripping out of the shredded shirt and standing before him entirely naked. We eyed each other with desire. Would he fuck me again now that I was nude? Or did he have another filthy plan in mind?

“What else have you got in your closet that you don’t like that much?” Robert asked me.

“Do you want a fashion show?” I asked.

“Only of items you don’t mind me destroying.”

I thought of the pile of discarded clothes in the closet, the items that were missing buttons or had a hole here and there. I’d always thought I would sew the bits on, patch the frays, but I’d never gotten around to fixing any of them. Maybe now I never would.

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