Ripped my tights, exposed my pussy

The black fabric gives way at the seam, a jagged tear running straight up the inner thigh where the tension finally won. You trace the frayed edge with your eyes, following it to where sheer nylon frames bare skin.

She's left everything else on — heels, the bunched waistband, the intact panels stretched across her hips. The damage looks deliberate now, too perfectly centered to be accidental.

Your attention keeps returning to that torn opening, the contrast between structured fabric and exposed warmth underneath. She's looking directly at you, completely unbothered by what she's just let you see.