Granny Panty Quotes

You bet your Grannie's Panties I will.

Man, my girl is one tough chick when she wants to be. I wonder if it has something to do with those big, comfy granny panties she’s got on.

You can tell this lady to bite me,though," Darrak added. "And she can take that holier-than-thou attitude of hers and shove it right under her granny panties.

I can’t cut back. I’ve turned into a sex addict. I get within a foot of Ranger or Morelli and I’m ready to go … and go, and go, and go, and go.” “That’s a lot of going. I’m a retired professional, and it’d be a lot of going even for me. What you need are granny panties. You put on a big ol’ pair of ugly granny panties and you won’t be dropping your drawers no more. And even if you forget in the heat of the moment, and you pull your skirt up over your head, you’re not gonna see no action on account granny panties have a deflating effect on a man. Your man’s gonna be going unh ah, no way am I getting busy with a woman wearing granny panties.

I've been staying after school getting help in trig from Laura Johnson. Shit, it's just school work. And it's fucking Laura, granny panties, Johnson! It's not like I've been secretly banging her as she whispers math problems in my ear or something.

You, sir," I said, "have all the dignity of a badger with the clap. Shark shit has more fiber than you. I'm going to tie your nuts-first to a monkey's cage and make a mix tape of the resulting noise. Then I'm going to take a bag of marshmallows and a pair of granny panties and-"... ... He didn't want to know what I was going to do with those granny panties. Surprisingly, Granuaile did. "Sensei, what were you going to do with those marshmallows and panties?" she whispered as we walked together. "I mean, I'm sure it had to be dire, but it just didn't sound as threatening as the potential havoc a monkey could wreak on his sack." "There was more to that recipe," I admitted. "He cut me off before I could get to the Icy Hot and the gopher snake.

I don’t think of you as perfect. “Oh… ok.” My eyelashes blinked in rapid succession and my brain started compiling the list of all my imperfections, “It’s because of my height? My seepage of trivial facts? My granny panties-

Granny panties. White as a flag, but with no surrender.

Why in the name of God do you wear these ugly ass granny panties? I swear it looks like you could parachute from the Dallas Lincoln Plaza with these and have a nice soft landing! Why don’t you get on the internet and apply your online shopping skills while purchasing some panties that do not look like they came from your Grans drawer?

Not that I mind white granny panties; they all slip down a woman's thighs the same way: slowly and with a sweet satisfying sound when they hit the floor.

It's Dana! She's back early." He ran his hand frantically over Mitch's neat, blonde hair. "What's she want? What's she doing here? "Maybe she wants Reese's pot back" "This is my chance! She's here alone. She wants me. Quick." He yanks my arm and dragged me to the stairs. I cried out in suprise. "Get out of sight. Throw that away." "I'm not throwing this away! Besides, you don't think she'll notice that your whole fucking house smells like this? Jesus. Your pupils are the size of her granny panties. Virtuous or not, she isn't stupid.

She wanted to feel normal. She wanted to feel like everyone else. She wanted more than this even; she wanted to be pretty. She wanted to be like the girls who ran laps in gym class, climbed ropes, jumped, and were asked out on dates. When some girls were wondering if their shorts or skirts were too tight, Sarah was worried about her underpants: granny panties, she called them. When the prettiest and most popular were trying out for cheerleading or volleyball, Sarah went home and read, gorged herself between meals in front of her computer and television.

You, sir,” I said, “have all the dignity of a badger with the clap. Shark shit has more fiber than you. I’m going to tie you nuts-first to a monkey’s cage and make a mix tape of the resulting noise. Then I’m going to take a bag of marshmallows and a pair of granny panties and—” Coyote

Granny Panties'? They are called comfy cotton, I'll have you know. They came in six festive colors!

Dude! I wear granny panties on the first few dates, so my hormones don’t make bad decisions.

A kiss from you?” He stepped forward into her finger, forcing her to open her hand against his chest or take a step back. She refused to budge. He leaned down, crowding her. “I’d rather kiss a snake.” “Then it’s too bad it’s winter, because they’re in short supply.” She pushed at his chest again, nearly snarling when he didn’t move. “You should just burn something else down. That might draw a few to the heat.” “Or maybe I’ll just set fire to your goddamn granny panties. That’s sure to create a big enough blaze.” Her jaw dropped open and she swallowed hard. “As if you could.” “Watch me.

I turned my back on Coyote without saying another word. He didn’t want to know what I was going to do with those granny panties. Surprisingly, Granuaile did. “Sensei, what were you going to do with those marshmallows and panties?” she whispered as we walked together. “I mean, I’m sure it had to be dire, but it just didn’t sound as threatening as the potential havoc a monkey could wreak on his sack.” “There was more to that recipe,” I admitted. “He cut me off before I could get to the Icy Hot and the gopher snake.” “Ew. What would you do with that?” “I will leave it to you as an exercise.” I

It took five cups of coffee and eight hundred dog years to find something to wear. It needed to be business appropriate, but hot for her lunch date. Even more important was what she’d wear underneath. Pickings were slim: Granny Panties, Period Panties, Holey Panties and Panties with Questionable Teddy Bears.

Not that I mind white granny panties; they all slip down a woman’s thighs the same way: slowly and with a sweet satisfying sound when they hit the floor. I

threw the front door open, running out into the rain, only wearing a pair of big black granny panties and a glittery crop shirt which had a partying weasel on it.

I know. I just...I haven't shaved my legs. And my panties are kinda granny panties, because Ruth was still figuring out the clothing printing machine and wasn't able to fine-tune it. And⁠—

The old me was a pair of granny panties.

Here’s the deal: no touching, no hand-holding, no flirting, no sexy talk, no dancing, and absolutely no kissy face.” “You didn’t mention no sex, did you? I might have you on a technicality.” “You and me alone, eating, talking, maybe even having a good time. Yeah, it might be a date.” “I’ve seen what’s in your pantry, and I respect my arteries too much to indulge.” “That’s the thing about snakes—even if they’re harmless, they look like such badasses it doesn’t really matter.” “You’re lying. You’re really wearing a pair of granny panties.

You, sir,” I said, “have all the dignity of a badger with the clap. Shark shit has more fiber than you. I’m going to tie you nuts-first to a monkey’s cage and make a mix tape of the resulting noise. Then I’m going to take a bag of marshmallows and a pair of granny panties and—

Oh God! I wore granny panties today. I didn’t think anyone would see them.” She covers her eyes with her hand in embarrassment.

Are we talking granny panties or lace?” Chad howled with laughter. Roland tightened his grip around me but kept me moving. I lifted my head high. I would not dignify Chad with an answer. Although, it was totally insulting he’d have to ask. Lace of course!

I’m not into setups. You know that.” “Lanie’s very nice. She’s an attorney too and works at my firm. She’s very successful.” “Yep, and I bet she wears granny panties.

She wanted me. As I was. Just the way I was. She was Mr Darcying me right now and I was Bridget Jones in my granny panties,

This is how I want you." She gazed into my eyes and I saw a truth there I had never expected to see from any Fae. She wanted me. As I was. Just the way I was. She was Mr Darcying me right now and I was Bridget Jones in my granny panties, bared for her to see and she liked it. She fucking liked it.

Those Weasels are a bit odd," Dwayne said, buttoning his pants as we walked across the street to the diner for lunch. "Oh, they're nice girls," Granny said as she dropkicked her phone into the fountain in the middle of the town square. "They're just not used to peckers touching the inside of their dresses before they've been sold." "Oh dear lord," Dwayne gasped, completely mortified. "I'll wear panties next time.

She wanted me. As I was. Just the way I was. She was Mr Darcying me right now and I was Bridget Jones in my granny panties, bared for her to see and she liked it. She fucking liked it.