Underwear!

 

Look at this girl. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but like all the sisterhood she has a secret, not even a guilty one as it’s so ingrained she doesn’t even think about it. Underneath her prim clothes she’s dressed like a porn star, and thinks no more of dressing up in this way than cleaning her teeth or popping down to Pret a Mange  for her mid morning coffee.

 

 

Because that’s what it is like being a girl. Every one of go about our daily business  sheathed  in gossamer come ons  and lacy erotica, because give or take the odd factory outlet selling undies that look like recycled duvets, that’s all there is.

 

 

 

It’s all a bit unfair. All you guys have is socks and pants and that’s about it, underwear  as enticing as cold porridge.  But for us, oh my God, it’s endless and off the scale, from Harrods to Harvey Nicks, each store trying to outdo each other in a bewildering choice, bras and thongs,

 

 

basques and teddies,

 

 

stockings and suspenders. (Don’t get me on to stockings, they are a subject in their own right! )

 

 

 

 

 

There are garments that defy categorisation,

 

and all of them are designed to ensure that as soon as you men get a quick glance of what we are wearing under our bland office clothes you get hard ons like pick axe handles and have to nuzzle and feel and fondle till you can’t hold it in any longer.

 

 

 

 

At least twice in my life when I was in a situation with a man best  described as “advanced flirtation” the man has suddenly picked me up, and deposited me on some convenient object, and while I squealed in protest with my legs in the air, yanked my knickers off me. On both occasions, grinning with triumph, the man had pocketed them and there was no question of getting them back till our first proper  assignation. Thinking about it, I didn’t get them back then either so no doubt they were  hung on to as a sexual trophy.

 

But hardly a surprise. Lingerie does seem to have an erotic allure all of its own and for quite a lot of men,  women’s  underwear is a fetishist object in its own right to be stolen from twilight washing lines and sniffed and  masturbated over in gloomy privacy.

 

It is clear that lingerie designers spend all their waking hours determined that what we buy and embellish our bodies with under our top clothes eroticises us to the limit. The simplest bra shapes our breast s to make them look as alluring as possible and is carefully cut to show of  much of our feminine swells as possible without actually falling out;

 

 

 

 

and should we decide to treat our man to something seriously slutty then we are still spoilt for choice.

 

 

 

And for those of us with nice legs, between tights and stockings,

 

 

we can mesmerise a room simply by casually crossing our legs with a sensuous hiss of nylon against nylon.

 

 

We girls need not worry about butter not melting in our mouths. Once we are
stripped to our undergarments, our mouths are likely to find themselves far too busy tasting other substances ! So in conclusion, should we be regularly spanked for dressing as whores and sluts every day of our lives? Oh yes! Overwelmingly yes !