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“Motherfuckers,” she shouted as she tore the material even more.
“Off,” with her final yank of the opening in the shorts, she tore them into two lengthwise shards of fabric. Now with an elastic waistband around my waist and two separate pieces of torn cotton dangling on either side of my upper thighs, I was free of any form of obstruction.
Sort of.
She stood from her kneeling position and stared down at the mess of material. Feeling ornery, I pressed my hands into my hips and raised one eyebrow.
“I’m not done,” she breathed as she stepped around me.
I watched as she pranced to her bedroom. After a short pause, she walked from the room with her right hand clasped into a fist. As she stepped in front of me, she held her hand to her side and flicked her thumb against the blade of her knife. As it snapped into the locked position, I shook my head and chuckled.
“Don’t be laughing, you might cause me to slip and slice something I don’t really want to cut,” she said as she slid the back side of the blade against my stomach.
With a slight upward stroke, she cut the waistband in two, and the shorts fell to the floor. I looked down at my now half flaccid cock and sighed.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fix that. But there’s a new rule around here,” she said as she nodded her head toward my waist.
Without folding the blade into the handle, she laid her knife on the edge of the kitchen countertop, “No more boxers, ever. You’re going commando from here on out, agreed?”
I rolled my eyes lightly and shook my head, “Agreed.”
Without a doubt, this wouldn’t be the last of the changes I’d make in an effort to suit Karter. In time, we’d both be seeing differences in ourselves and in each other. For twenty years, my life had been the same thing over and over. I was prevented from making change. Now, to think I had the ability to make modifications at will and to do so with Karter’s best interest in mind was extremely satisfying.
She kicked the torn pile of cotton boxers to the side and stood in front of me, smiling.
“Now maybe you won’t be short stroking me,” she said matter-of-factly.
As she stood naked between me and the door, I pressed my fists between my biceps and chest. I crossed my arms like an angry child and responded, “Short stroking you?”
“Mmmmhhhhm,” she grinned.
“Short stroking?”
“That is affirmative sir,” she nodded.
I rocked up and down on the balls of my feet, “So now I’ve got a little cock?”
“With that pile of shit on,” she paused and pointed at the shredded shorts.
“You couldn’t get in there. You were short stroking me. I felt like I was being fucked by a midget or something,” she chuckled.
I uncrossed my arms and turned my palms upward, “A fuckin’ midget?”
She raised her hand to eye level and held her thumb and forefinger two inches apart as she stared at the distance between her fingers, “Mmmhhhhm. One with a stubby little cock.”
“Turn around, I’ll show you just how deep I can get,” I demanded.
“Promises, promises,” she sighed as she slapped her hands against the door and spread her feet apart.
She looked as if she was preparing to be frisked by a police officer. My guess was she probably had a little experience at it. She looked all too versed on the procedure. Trying to act as if I was actually angry, I stroked my cock as I stepped toward her.
“You talk a lot of shit for your size,” I growled.
“I’m small but I’m mean as fuck,” she said over her left shoulder.
“Is that so?” I asked as I looked up and down her naked body.
With her head facing her raised left arm, and her right cheek against the door, she nodded her head slightly, “Mmmmhhhhm.”
