Her pink flowered panties were old, and the elastic in the waistband had given up all its stretch. They would no longer stay up, and just slipped lower and lower throughout the day. Instead of tossing them in the hamper or the trash, she set them on top of his bedroom dresser, dirty gusset facing up, for him to see that evening.

The next morning was Saturday, and they had a full day planned of visiting an art museum, going out to lunch, and then shopping for some new furniture. As they were getting ready, she pointed to the panties and told him, “I want you to wear those today.” Her devilish grin was the icing on the cake. Like a naughty little boy he pulled on her dirty panties, arranged his hard cock as best he could behind the little patch of fabric, and looked for her approval. She wiggled her eyebrows in a sexy way, and promised to take care of his situation later. They finished getting dressed and headed to the museum.

At the museum, they parked the car and got out. She embraced him, pulling him to her, leaning back against the car. She wanted to feel his hard bulge pressed against her one more time before they went inside. She slipped her fingers just inside the waist of his pants, found the top edge of the panties, and hiked them up out of his pants on either side.

“I can’t walk around looking like this.” He objected.

She pulled some scissors out of her purse and cut the floppy loops of flowery fabric on each side. He looked at her in shock. The two loops now looked like four little pink tags sticking out of his waistband. She returned the scissors to the car, closed the door, and took his hand leading him towards the museum.

The panties no longer had a grip around his waist. They were just a thin piece of fabric hugging him from the front, between his legs, and up the back. There was nothing secure holding them up. As he walked he could feel the loose fabric relaxing lower and lower inside his pants. When that little strip in back worked its way out of his butt crack the panties would begin to slip their way down one of his pant legs. There was no telling when it would happen, but at some point today a pair of cut up pink panties were going to emerge from the bottom of one of his pant legs, trail behind him as he walked, and then fall completely out onto the floor. She would keep an eye on him, a tight grip on his hand, and not let him avoid the embarrassment. She led him towards the crowded lobby of the museum. Paintings and sculptures weren’t the only thing people were going to admire today.