James' Shirt finally gives

Amy pulls her head back a little, separating their lips. "What the fuck!"

"I didn't mean to!" James moans, again trying to pull himself off of her, but the nail holding him tight, "I think my shirt's stuck."

"Fine," Amy curses, forcing her hands between them and practically tearing open his T-shirt.

For a spot of fun you mentally push James down again, their bare chests pressing together, sending a tingle of pleasure through them both.

Amy is able to fight it off faster, tearing the shirt from James' shoulder and finally push him off of her, climbing to her feet.

She brings one arm up to cover her exposed breasts, looking down at her ruined shirt and bra, but at least she's in a better state than James.

Laying at her feet, his jeans still around his ankles, the only clothing he wears are the thin white Y-Fronts, the head of his erect cock popping out of the top.