Thursday, January 23, 2025

Creaming Spires

My friend has a ‘sex outfit’. I haven’t actually seen it, you understand, but I envisage something black/purple/pink that bring her tits under the chin and her thong up to her armpits. That sort of thing. The idea of this disturbed me initially. I had an image of her mother inspecting layers of semen stained nylon in search of washing instructions. Shudder.

But then I began to think. I mean, I can’t be the only girl whose bop costume has turned into a bit of a sex outfit post-party. If I’ve spent that long trying to find a way to make a Noah’s Ark theme slutty I’m going to make the most of it, right? As la Lohan says in Mean Girls, ‘Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it’. Hey, in Oxford it’s like that every week.

After all, as my housemate tells me, Nala is the sexiest Disney princess, and she’s just a lion with eyelashes. Weird. If you‘ve ever been to Queerbop you know a bit of costume sends people wild. But maybe the giant penis shaped bucking bronco had something to do with all those pheromones flying around as well.

All of us dress up for sex to a certain extent though, even if it’s just making sure those aren’t the pants with the suspect stain on the gusset. I decided to go that extra mile this weekend however, and try not just to be clean, but to be a bit sexy too. The obvious place to go was Ann Summers, and after a trying-on session with a friend that was much less sexy than I’d rather you imagined (I found crumbs from a sandwich I’d eaten for lunch in my bra, she may have broken wind, enough said) I came out one ‘sex outfit’ the richer.

Tits under the chin, thong up to the armpits, the whole shebang. And it was great. When I imagined how I looked as I was having sex (shut up, you all do it) I felt a bit like Nicole Kidman a la Moulin Rouge, but crucially neither vaguely androgynous nor, ahem, ginger. I feel like I’ve opened a ‘sex outfit’ floodgate, I never want to wear anything else again, ever.

Why wear cotton pants when you can have see through ones? Why opt for comfy knickers when you can have a permanent wedgie? (Incidentally, why are thongs sexy but wedgies aren’t? You‘d have thought it was the same principle.) I’ll see where this discovery takes me. Sadly, my suspicion is that 24/7 sexiness is an impossibility for someone who finds crumbs in their bra.

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