Quotes & Sayings About Hot Pants

Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?", here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage! — Andy Rooney

But guys like Mason McCarthy stayed glued to your brain long after they had left you behind. They charmed their way into your heart and pants with their smooth words and sinister good looks and then ditched you the second you were deemed old news.

Still, I wanted him. That was the scariest part - not his assumed womanizing, not that he could disrupt my life and tear my heart into tiny pieces, but that I would let him. — Amanda McGee

Jesus, you never fail to surprise me, baby. He's supporting the heavy bike, and us, with his strong legs braced on either side. He reaches between us and rips my yoga pants at the seam of my crotch. Holy fucking shit! My panties are next, and before I know it, he's lowered the waist of his pants and is filling me. — Kristen Proby

Later, I was in a bathroom stall. Eric was on his knees. My dick was in his mouth, my head back against warm ceramic tile that shook with the beat of the music. My fingers were in his hair and everything was hot and wet. I grunted a warning and he backed away, jacking me until I came on the dirty floor. He stood up and kissed me while he jerked himself off. He sighed into my mouth. He tasted like stale beer and mint. He came on his hand. I felt raw. "Thanks," he said, zipping up his pants. "That was great." "Sure," I said, because I was unsure of what else to say. "You too." And then he left. I — T.J. Klune

We began the process of learning how incredibly difficult it is to live with someone who is totally anal and slightly OCD (ahem ... Victor). And someone who is perpetually accidentally hot-gluing herself to the carpet, and who is sort of mentally unstable, but in an "At-least-I-still-remember-how-pants-work" kind of way (cough ... that'd be me). Victor remarked that comparing myself with the sometimes naked hermit next door wasn't exactly a strong mental-wellness benchmark, especially since I often ended up pantsless myself. I raised my eyebrow at his seemingly seductive remark until I realized he was referring to the time he found me half naked because I'd just hot-glued my jeans to the carpet. — Jenny Lawson

I went to my first drum n' bass rave when I was 16 and remember being terrified. Looking around, trying to figure out how to dance to this music, watching some girl in some hot pants, trying little ways to learn her movements. — Katy B

I wore hot pants and cowboy boots and I thought, 'What have I gotten myself into?' — Alek Wek

Kiss me," he growled.
"I shouldn't - "
"I. Don't. Give. A. Damn."
Well hell. My lips touched his - barely. I pulled back and looked at him - unfamiliar, dangerous, and so exciting. I devoured his mouth without thinking. Don't think, just touch. I ran my fingers across his strong shoulders and down his arms. His skin felt hot under my hands, his body hard. He sucked in his abs so I could get into his pants, if I wanted to. I slid one hand over his stomach and under his jeans, touching his hard cock, smiling when he groaned. — Amelia James

Why is your face all red, Celia? You hot or something?"

"Liam," Koda growled. Go put on some clothes."

Liam spoke between chews. "Why it's warm in here."

"Because the girls weren't raised among beings that are frequently naked."

Understanding spread across Liam's boyish features. He shook his head. "Celia, you have to get over your modesty. The body is a gift. Here, take off your clothes so you can see how freeing--"

I threw my spatula in the sink. "Go upstairs, Liam. And don't come back down until you put on some damn pants! — Cecy Robson

I know this looks pathetic, but I'm wearing black elastic-waist pants just like my mother's, a hot-pink fleece hat, mismatched socks, and no makeup. I think it's safe to say that vanity is no longer my biggest concern. — Lisa Genova

Mr. Landowsky was eighty-two and somehow his chest had shrunk over the years, and now he was forced to hike his pants up under his armpits.
"Oi," he said. "This heat! I can't breathe. Somebody should do something."
I assumed he was talking about God.
"That weatherman on the morning news. He should be shot. How can I go out in weather like this? And then when it gets so hot they keep the supermarkets too cold. Hot, cold. Hot, cold. It gives me the runs."
I was glad I owned a gun, because when I got as old as Mr. Landowsky I was going to eat a bullet. The first time I got the runs in the supermarket, that was it. BANG! It would all be over. — Janet Evanovich

If Nick were on a quest to return the One Ring to the fiery pits of Mount Doom, Jai Hazenbrook would totally be the hot-as-fuck elf in tight leather pants who could shoot the left testicle off an orc at a thousand paces. Whereas Nick, of course, would be the short hairy-footed guy who liked beer and fireworks and second breakfasts. Even in his fantasy worlds, Nick is a realist. — Lisa Henry

Oh boy," Lula said when she saw me. "Think we got a good story walking in the door, here. What's with the handcuff?"
"I thought it would look good with the cheese balls in my hair. You know, dress up the outfit."
"I hope it was Morelli," Connie said. "I wouldn't mind being cuffed by Morelli."
"Close," I said. "It was Ranger."
"Uh-oh," Lula said. "Think I just wet my pants."
"It wasn't anything sexual," I said. "It was ... an accident. And then we lost the key."
Connie fanned herself with a manila folder. "I'm having a hot flash. — Janet Evanovich

I'd much rather play the psycho than the pretty girl in hot pants. — Cush Jumbo

I look up to Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn and old styles. You will never see me in a crop top and hot pants - I'm more into dresses. — Ella Henderson

There's no being out too late in Whileaway, or up too early, or in the wrong part of town, or unescorted. You cannot fall out of the kinship web and become sexual prey for strangers, for there is no prey and there are no strangers
the web is world-wide. In all of Whileaway there is no one who can keep you from going where you please (though you may risk your life, if that sort of thing appeals to you), no one who will follow you and try to embarrass you by whispering obscenities in your ear, no one who will attempt to rape you, no one who will warn you of the dangers of the street, no one who will stand on street corners, hot-eyed and vicious, jingling loose change in his pants pocket, bitterly bitterly sure that you're a cheap floozy, hot and wild, who likes it, who can't say no, who's making a mint off it, who inspires him with nothing but disgust, and who wants to drive him crazy. — Joanna Russ

I'll need a sparring partner."
"Karate?" Those completely human-seeming eyes brightened in interest.
"Katana."
"Hot damn. Let's do it."
Lucas coughed. "If you two have stopped flirting, we have business to discuss."
Indigo grinned but stayed silent. Mercy wasn't so reticent. "So that's what it takes to get into Dorian's pants. I'll let the sentinel-chasers know."
Her packmate's growl only widened her smirk. — Nalini Singh

For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 40 +, there is a balding, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. — Andy Rooney

And someone who is perpetually accidentally hot-gluing herself to the carpet, and who is sort of mentally unstable, but in an "At-least-I-still-remember-how-pants-work" kind of way (cough ... that'd be me). — Jenny Lawson

He made quick work of undoing Syn's belt and dropping his pants and briefs to his ankles. Furi took Syn's length all the way to the back of his throat and held him there. "Augh. Furious!" Syn yelled, grasping at Furi's shoulders. Furi had to take the edge off for his lover and then he had to get to work. And he had to take care of himself too, since his dick was just as hard and aching. Syn fucked Furi's mouth while he unbuttoned his jumpsuit and anxiously dug inside his jeans, pulling himself free. He moaned deep in his throat at the first contact of cool air on his hot dick. No doubt the vibration drove Syn crazy because he grasped Furi's hair and started slamming his cock in and out, the rhythm of his hips already faltering. "Gonna — A.E. Via

Disco bowling? Seriously? Is there such a thing?"
He laughed. "I've never been,but you mentioned bowling a few weeks ago,and I figured tonight of all nights I could go ahead and impress you with my mad lack of bowling skills.Besides which, you look way too hot to waste on trick-or-treaters.They have a costume competition-you're a shoo-in."
I laughed,giddy,and grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles.I knew he'd rather stay at home,but he planned tonight around making me happy. And he wanted to show me off,which appealed to my vanity more than I cared to admit. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.
"Pictures,please?And if we're going disco bowling,you have to dress up."
He pretended to sigh,but his glamour hair grew out into a massive 'fro and I squealed with delight. Then it shifted into shorter hair with a yellow-blond side part. "I figure with an ascot and blue pants I can do a mean Fred to your Daphne,right?"
Tonight was perfect. — Kiersten White

Corey was hanging out down by the port one afternoon with Karl and Jacques when a bus-load of american tourists drove by, and in a moment of clarity Corey suddenly perceived Karl in the light of reality rather than through the kaleidoscope of fashion: the tourists were staring open-mouthed through the bus windows, ice creams held in mid-air, gawping at the apparition that was Karl. Jacques was driving the mobylette and Karl sat behind riding side-saddle dressed in hot pants, long strands of pearls and dark glasses; he was wielding a raw frankfurter straight from the packet in one hand and a bottle of coca-cola in the other. I remember thinking "I am with this total freak," says Corey. — Alicia Drake

What to go out with me tonight after work, Vaughan?"
... "You asking me out on a date, Lydia?"
"Yes," I said. "I am."
"Babe, I'd love to." His hand rose to the back of my neck, stroking, drawing me closer. Hot damn, did he have the moves. The man turned my mind to mush.
"Something you need to know," he said. "Before tonight."
"What's that?"
"I put out on the first date," he told me with a perfectly straight face. "That okay with you?"
"Oh, I'm counting on it" ... "I mean ... it would have been so awkward if you expected me to respect you for your mind or something. Yikes, how embarrassing. Between you and me, I'm really only interested in getting into your pants."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but, priorities, you know?"
"I know." The man's smile would have made a nun think twice. I never stood a chance. — Kylie Scott

[On a high school visit by Destiny's Child:] Then they appeared, golden Glamazons resplendent in hot pants the size of a dryer sheet and gold stiletto boots. The kids in the front row, clearly on funkiness overload, had the walleyed look of the Today's Catch section of the supermarket. — Jancee Dunn

My idol was Marilyn Monroe, who was a size 16, I think, and curvy in all the right places. I will never be stick thin. I remember a shoot where I had to get into these tiny hot pants, and I thought, 'God, I wish I hadn't eaten.' — Katherine Jenkins

There's no way I'll be able to peacefully sleep with my cock throbbing so painfully. I carefully undo my belt and pants before sliding them to my ankles. With my foot, I kick them under the bed. I peel away my sweater and have it join my pants as well. Once I'm standing beside her in nothing but my boxers and socks, I stroke myself through my underwear. God, I fucking want her. I push my boxers down my thighs so that my heavy erection bobs out. When I take it in my grip, it's hot and pulsating. I'm dying to push into every single one of her holes. To draw out pleasure and pain from her. I want to own every part of her. Fisting my cock feverishly, I attempt to keep my grunts stifled. With each tug, I get closer and closer to release. — K. Webster

She wore a fitted white scoop neck shirt under a thin jacket, slim brown pants and tennis shoes. He bet she looked hot in four-inch heels. He wondered how long she'd last in this town, and he decided he wanted to sleep with her before she left. — Tami Lund

He turned and quickly removed his pants. My eyes grew huge, since he wore nothing underneath. I started to stammer, trying to avert my gaze,his sex all but riveting my eyes as I stared, blatantly helpless."We will not make love. You're in this bed as a friend. Why make things difficult?" I was hot all over; his body was perfect, strong, welcoming and oh-so-alive. — Alisha Basso

He's wearing a white button down, black pants, and suspenders. He's not my type, but the getup is pretty sexy. Like, put your brother in suspenders and he might become hot too. Okay, that was too far, and I need to stop watching Game of Thrones. Kit — Tarryn Fisher

There will be all these fifty-year-old women wearing hot pants and squeezing themselves into pretzel shapes and then there will be me. Just reaching for my toes like they're China. 'Hello there! You're so far away, I can't get to you! Can you even hear me? — E. Lockhart

Those hot pants of hers were so damned tight, I could hardly breathe. — Benny Hill

Hot damn, Diego Santero looked fine soaking wet. Everything about him radiated potent masculinity, from the slick, dark hair that drew emphasis to the angles of his cheeks and jaw, to the water beading off his forearms and the soaked black shirt and cargo pants that clung to every curve of muscle and flesh below. — Melissa Cutler

In the past, like for the last Rilo Kiley record, 'Under the Blacklight,' I wore exclusively hot pants because the themes in that record were the underbelly of Los Angeles. — Jenny Lewis

It's funny - more people talk about my 'babe-dom' now than they did before I had a child. Whatever. I guess I'm a role model in hot pants now. That's cool! — Lauryn Hill

Aidan Kincaid, wearing cargo pants and a dark blue T-shirt with a Search-and-Rescue emblem on the pec, a radio on his hip, looking dusty and hot and tired and sexy as hell. — Jill Shalvis

Wilson exchanged his cello for a second set of keys and a clean shirt and jeans. He hadn't been splattered by vomit, but he insisted he reeked of it. I had never seen him in anything but slacks and dress-shirts. The T-shirt was a snug soft blue, and his jeans were worn, though they looked expensive. He hadn't bought them at Hot Topic. Why is it that you can see money even when it comes wrapped in a T-shirt and jeans?
"Nice pants," I commented as he approached me at the door.
"H-huh?" Wilson stammered. And then he smiled. "Oh, uh. Thanks. You mean my trousers."
"Trousers?"
"Yes. Pants are underwear, see. I thought . . . um. Never mind."
"Underwear? You call underwear pants?"
"Let's go, shall we?" He grimaced, ignoring the question and pulling the door closed behind him. He looked so different, and I tried not stare. He was . . . hot. Ugh! — Amy Harmon

The second thing which made speechless
a state my dad would have found amusing
was the fact Mr. Hunky gave me a masculine grin
a naughty one which made me cream my panties
and said in a velvety baritone, "Run along, sweetheart. I've got this."
Me, one of Hell's most successful bounty hunters, dismissed with a smile and a wave of his hand. His treatment made me want to tear his pants off and ride him like a cowgirl
I mean, he'd called me sweetheart, how hot was that?
while at the same time making me see red. I'm gonna wipe the smirk off his face. Then I'm gonna kiss him. Then.. — Eve Langlais

Emma Strickland was not who she seemed. He intended to find out more, unlock whatever secrets she was keeping inside her sexy halter and shiny hot pants. Without removing her sexy halter and shiny hot pants, because that would be wrong. With a capital W. — Kate Meader

She remembered her hand and how to work it, tearing open his falls and the smallclothes beneath. Her breaths were coming in hot little pants now and she stared up at him as she took him into her fist. She would remember this. She'd remember this until her dying day, she promised herself.
"Ah, Eve," he groaned, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He thrust once, convulsively, into her hand, and then he was lifting and spreading her legs, taking his cock out of her hand, thrusting into her.
She gasped, it was so fast. A complete possession. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Things take a little more time when you're not doing really obvious sales. I don't have any nudity in my videos, or anything close to it, and I don't have shootouts or explosions or car chases ... There aren't a bunch of drugs in the videos and I am not wearing hot pants, and I don't dance. So, as far as videos or anything visually is concerned, I'm not a very visually stimulating artist. — Gavin DeGraw

The worst thing I ever wore, really, was rubber pants, but I don't think that was a cliche. They were just way too hot. Rubber doesn't breathe. I look back on my photos, and I dig them. I think I look really cool. — Sebastian Bach

Here I was just thinking all these wonderful things about you and now you're trying to strip down before we can have sex."
His hands casually held in the air, he explained, "I was hot."
"It's seventy degrees in here."
His hands went to his cotton pants, thumbing the cinched band, preparing for a total strip down. Gawd, how I secretly wanted him to do it, but for some reason, the word stop came out of my mouth. At least I agreed with myself when I said, "That is so not fair."
Neither was the way the left side of his mouth curled up, smiling wickedly as his eyes swept across my body. "You're right. Your ogling is making me uncomfortable. You should remove your top to compensate. — Devon Ashley

Grandma was wearing a blond Marilyn Monroe wig, a hot pink tank top, black Pilates pants, and black kitten heels. She looked like the senior version of an inflatable sex toy doll that needed more air. — Janet Evanovich

In Jalalabad it was half past four in the afternoon. Tea was being served in the white mud house. The new messenger had been brought to the small hot room. She was a woman. Twenty-four years old, long black hair, skin the color of tea. She was wearing a white explorer shirt, full of loops and pockets, and khaki pants, and desert boots. She was standing at attention in front of the two men, who were sitting on their cushions. The — Lee Child

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?
Belinda! Your language.
I've been mingling with Americans. Such fun. So Naughty. — Rhys Bowen

It was a long winter of deep snow, solitude, and madness. The satellite kept feeding me digital news of summer in other places. I had to come down from the White Mountain, down into the valley where flowers bloomed, where trees grew new leaves, and hot pants were on! — Robert Earl Wildwood

I was addicted to 'The Monkees' TV programme - not so much because of the music but because of the commercials in between. The programme was sponsored by Yardley, and in the commercial breaks, there would be these English girls on roller skates, wearing hot pants, and I just thought, 'God! How neat!' — Marie Helvin

I will embarrass my kids to their core. I will threaten to show up in hot pants and a tube top. Their dad will drive me. And he'll let me and my friend Lisa get pretty drunk in the backseat, and we will come into that party and just rip it up. — Melissa McCarthy

Where the hell are you, Cimil?"
"Popping tags with Roberto," she replied.
"Popping what?" he asked.
Cimil growled. "You shame Macklemore - I'm at a thrift store. Where else would a goddess find a microwave for her potpie and a new pair of pink hot pants? And a Lee Majors doll! Score! — Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

There are five unread messages on the screen, which is what happens when you're the meat in a hot girl sandwich. Threesomes trump checking your phone. That's a no-brainer.

Logan: Hey, bro, Wellsy's friend Allie is crashing at our place this weekend.

Logan: Keep your dick in your pants. G and I aren't in the mood to beat u senseless if u try something. Wellsy might be in the mood for violence, tho. So: dick = pants = don't bother our guest.

Hannah: Allie's staying with u guys til Sunday. She's in a vulnerable place right now. Don't take advantage of her or else I'll be unhappy. And u don't want to make me unhappy, do u?

I snicker. Hannah, diplomatic as always. I quickly scan the last two messages.

Garrett: Allie's gonna crash in my room.

Garrett: Your dick can stay in your room.

Jeez, what is everybody's fascination with my dick? — Elle Kennedy