The new is the well-forgotten old.

After reading a somewhat funny and interesting story online, and a bit later receiving a letter and a cool photo from a friend, I myself got fired up with the desire to try something like that. I thought for a long time and went through my not-so-numerous clothes, and then my eyes fell on my jeans, which I hadn't worn since my student days. They were a bit too big for me back then, and I put them in the closet and conveniently forgot about them for several years, as I got used to wearing a minimum. Taking them out and turning them over in my hands, I immediately washed them, and when they dried, after ironing them, I tried them on. They tightly hugged my butt and fit me as sexily as possible.

One small detail remained

to be done, and taking them off, I started to rip the seam, stepping back about three centimeters below the fly. After ripping about ten centimeters, I tried on the jeans and turned in front of the mirror. When I moved my leg slightly to the side, I immediately saw how my labia began to sink into and peek through the ripped seam. I sat on a chair and spread my legs even wider. The ripped hole opened to the sides, and my pussy was almost completely exposed. I ripped another couple of centimeters towards the butt and secured the seam so it couldn't rip further while walking, and at the very beginning near the fly, I even had to hem those same couple of centimeters. As soon as I finished ripping and sewing, I cut off all the dangling threads and immediately tried on my new pants. The look was simply enchanting. While walking, practically nothing was noticeable, and only a very narrow strip showed through the ripped seam.

"Well, it turned out alright. Need to test them outside," I said to myself and immediately went to get dressed.

At the very bottom, I could feel how the ripped edges of the jeans cut into my body and my labia, rubbing them a little. It was very pleasant and unusual to feel this. Putting on my coat, I took some money and a bag and went to the store. It wasn't very far to walk, about three hundred meters. It was minus twenty-eight outside, but I'm used to it, and I wasn't the slightest bit cold. I walked slowly and tried to feel every movement and every friction, and all of this aroused me very much. On the way back, I met my parents, and we returned home together. I didn't even get cold at all, but I was on the verge of an orgasm and barely restrained myself.

At home, I decided to test my new, well-forgotten old jeans and started walking around the house in them, imagining myself at work.

"Marin, you rejected these jeans before, and now you went and put them on. What's that about?" said Mom.

"Oh, just found them by accident, and it's freezing outside. Thought, why should they just lie around. I'll wear them for a week or so, while the frost lasts," I replied.

"That's true, money doesn't grow on trees," said Dad.

"And they suit you," Mom gave a compliment.

"Well, just say straight out that I've gained weight and that's it. I can see myself that they're tight on me," I said.

"No, they actually fit you very well," said Mom.

Then we had dinner and didn't return to the topic of my jeans. I walked around the house and ran outside. The frost slightly penetrating through the ripped seam tingled my labia, and outside I sometimes even covered them with my hand, as at home I often ran out only in a sweater or a short jacket, which didn't even hide my butt and, naturally, the hole between my legs. To my surprise, my parents didn't even notice that my jeans were ripped, and I decided to go to work in them in the morning.

"Ira will be surprised when she accidentally notices the hole," I decided and, with various exciting thoughts, went to bed and, hiding under the blanket, started masturbating my pussy, which was dripping from the new sensations. After having a strong and very quick orgasm, I soon fell asleep.

In the morning, I got up earlier than usual, and after inspecting my jeans once more, immediately pulled them on and went to wash up. My parents were already leaving and greeted me standing at the threshold.

After breakfast, I put on a sweater that covered my butt just a bit from the top and my coat and went outside. The frost hadn't let up, but my coat protected me well from it, and only a slight coolness penetrated from below, and I felt it with my labia as they slightly protruded into the ripped seam while walking. I got to work without any adventures, but the new sensations bothered me the whole way. I constantly thought about how I would look in the reading room without my coat and robe.

Ira was already there, and after greeting each other, I started taking off my coat. I decided I would behave as if I were dressed quite normally and nothing had ripped on me. Ira, of course, didn't notice anything, but she immediately paid attention to my jeans.

"Where did you buy them?" she asked me.

"These are my old ones—they'll be a hundred years old on Saturday," I replied.

"Why didn't you wear them before?" Ira asked again.

"Well, you know, I'm just not used to trousers," I said.

"Of course, you'd rather just flash around naked," my friend smirked.

"Yeah, so what. When it gets warm, I'll throw these tight pants back in the closet and far away," I said indignantly.

"Why wait, you can do it now," Ira giggled and went to open the door, as someone was already knocking and it was five to nine.

"Are you sleeping or what?" said Tatyana Ivanovna, our boss.

We both remained silent, and she told us news that almost made me sit down.

"After lunch, at three o'clock, both of you be in the assembly hall. There will be a meeting."

I wanted to object, but didn't even have time to say a word. So I just watched her go with my mouth open.

Going to the meeting in a robe seemed somehow improper. I could become a gray crow among the whole team. But going in my jeans and a sweater that covered nothing was also scary and dangerous. It was tantamount to going out and confessing everything, only silently. I was at a loss and didn't know what to do. Telling Ira wasn't part of my plans either, otherwise there would be no surprise, and I decided to think about it during lunch, as the first reader had already come in, and Ira was sitting at the table, and I had to look for the ordered books and bring them to the table. We had agreed on that the day before, when she was running around all day, and I was sitting at the table in just a sweater.

There was nothing to do, and I went behind the shelves, quickly found two ordered books, and approached the table. It seemed no one noticed anything, and sitting down next to Ira, I started chatting with her until the next reader appeared.

So an hour passed, then another, and a third. I was already feeling more confident and freely approached readers and answered their questions. I looked for other books and even climbed the stepladder to get them from the top shelves and wasn't afraid that I might be seen. Just in case, I even came up with an excuse, saying they ripped when I was climbing up or down the ladder. But as they say, nothing goes unnoticed.

Near the table sat a woman who asked to find three books, and they were all on different shelves, and Ira offered to help me at the very moment when I was standing on a step and getting the second book.

"Give me the books, I'll record them for now. u.u.u.u," she said, and the end of her word somehow became drawn out. I turned and handed her both books and saw her gaze directed straight at the area of the ripped hole.

"Here, take them," I said to her.

Ira took the books and, stepping away from me by a step, didn't stop watching me as I would climb down.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, understanding that she had noticed the hole and saw something in it and couldn't believe her eyes.

"Marin, oh Marin. Your jeans are ripped," Ira stammered quietly.

"Where? I don't see anything," and I bent my head to look.

"There, lower down, right between the legs," Ira whispered.

"Okay, I'll find the book now and see what you found there," I said and moved the stepladder.

Ira left and sat at the table and started writing and entering the books into the card. I found the book and, under my friend's intent gaze, approached the table.

"Here's the third book," I said.

The woman thanked me and, taking the books, went to a table. I immediately went into the little room and, sitting on a chair, pretended to look for where something had ripped, as Ira came in right away.

"Well, did you see it?" she said.

"Yeah, a huge hole, and how didn't I feel it," I said and, sitting on the chair, spread my legs even wider, and my pussy and labia fell out through the ripped seam.

"How are you going to work now?" asked Ira.

"What can I do? I'll just walk carefully," I replied.

"What if someone sees?" asked Ira.

"Well, if you don't stare at me so intently, I think no one will pay attention."

It seems the surprise worked, I thought when Ira left. I sat a bit longer, thinking about how to behave further, and went out after her. I walked slowly straight to her table, and she stared at me as if studying me like the eighth wonder of the world.

"I asked you not to stare so intently," I said, coming closer.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure if it's very visible or not," she started justifying her interest.

"Well, and how, is it very noticeable?" I asked.

"It seems like nothing is visible," Ira said, hesitating a bit.

"Is it visible from behind?" I asked and, standing up slowly, started moving away towards the shelves. Turning around, I just as slowly approached the table again and sat on a visitor's chair.

"And from behind, nothing is noticeable either," said Ira.

"Well, that's good then. Then it's not scary to go to the meeting either, otherwise I was already scared. What would I go in when you told me my jeans were ripped."

During lunch, Ira tried to persuade me not to go to the meeting, saying she would explain everything to the boss, but I stood my ground. This was another unforeseen chance to tickle my nerves and experience something new and indescribably erotic and extreme. Realizing she couldn't convince me, Ira said.

"Then let's check again how you'll walk and sit there."

"Let's do it, that's better than arguing," I replied.

In the remaining twenty minutes, changing my gait and different ways of sitting and standing up, I demonstrated in front of Ira, and she made several remarks about in which cases the ripped jeans could be seen and that something was visible there. After trials and training, Ira calmed down, and I also felt a bit easier, although no one knew what to expect at the meeting, and someone could accidentally push me, and I myself had tripped many times before on the legs of the connected seats.

"Well, shall we sit on the edge together?" I said and, smiling, looked at Ira.

"Okay, but no tricks, anything can be expected from you," replied Ira.

"I'm not my own enemy, except maybe I might forget and sit as usual," I said and, returning to the chair, sat on it and, leaning slightly and placing my folded hands on the imaginary back of the seat in front, spread my legs wider, and the whole picture of my shame, or rather my completely shaved pussy, opened before Ira.

"If you joke like that—sit alone," said Ira, offended.

I approached her and, putting my hand on her shoulder, smiled and, kissing her on the cheek, said.

"I was just joking."

"Well, what jokes you have."

After lunch, having calmly worked another hour and a half, we closed the reading room and a bit earlier, while there were few people in the assembly hall, went in and carefully sat in convenient and inconspicuous places. The meeting was pre-holiday and went calmly and with humor. To my luck, no one was called to the stage, including me. And after it ended, letting almost everyone pass, we were almost the last to leave and calmly returned to the reading room. After drinking a mug of tea, we didn't open the hall anymore, but gathered and went home. On the way, Ira asked me again

"Marin, aren't you cold? Well, there where your pants are ripped?"

"No, I don't feel anything," I said, although I very much felt how the edges of the pants along the seam rubbed the folds of my pussy and how the incoming breeze blew on it with frosty air.

When we said goodbye near Ira's house, she reminded me not to forget over the weekend to sew up the hole. To which I immediately replied.

"But is it worth it? I even liked walking around like this."

"Well, you're completely... what if someone sees?" she asked.

"I'll say they ripped and that's it," I replied and, smiling, hurried to the minibus approaching the stop.

Perhaps that's exactly what I'll do, after all, I didn't waste time and nerves for nothing to test my old and at the same time new jeans in an unusual work-extreme environment.

Marina Chelyabinsk.