I’ve never been all that into lingerie.
It’s not that I’m opposed to it. Trust me, I understand the allure. At times I’ve found it extremely sexy. As an aesthetic, I can appreciate it. When you see someone in something sheer that allows your mind to race with possibilities, what’s not to like?
But in my personal life, lingerie has never been an important element. In fact it’s been a hindrance at some times. A great deal of the women I’ve been with own a lot of lingerie that was given to them by previous lovers. They can’t seem to wrap their heads around my stance on it.
“Every man loves lingerie. What’s wrong with you?”
Honestly, nothing. Just because my personal taste doesn’t link with the status quo doesn’t mean I have a problem. It’s just a preference. In my wasted youth spent in strip clubs, (That time wasn’t wasted. I have a few novels and short stories connected to those experiences.) I tipped the dancers that I knew a lot more than the ones I didn’t that wore the most skimpy clothing.
What you wear is not as important as the person who’s wearing it. That’s always been the key for me. I can only think of two times where lingerie has played a major role in a powerful sensual experience.
One time was with my ex-girlfriend in college who was having a very rough week. So to cheer her up, I put on some lingerie that one of her ex-boyfriend’s had given her. It was the first time I heard her laugh that week. She was surprised that my body fit into what I was wearing but something about it turned her on and we spent the rest of that night fucking in every corner of our apartment we could find.
The second time was when a platonic friend of mine came out to California for a visit. She had no idea how far Los Angeles and San Diego were. She was presenting some of her work at a small conference at the same time Comic-Con was in town. I couldn’t find an affordable room and ending up staying in her suite for the weekend. We had long discussions before I drove down about what wasn’t going to happen in San Diego, even though we were both single, and would be sharing the same bed. What I wasn’t expecting was the black silk teddy she wore to bed. My nagging erection made it impossible to sleep. I got up early the next morning to jerk out the extreme tension in my body before she woke up. Even though she was completely covered seeing her in that teddy is still one of the sexiest things I seen in my life.
Also, when that happened, we had known each other for over 15 years and the allure of knowing that I wasn’t going to have sex with her pushed my desire to do so to the brink.
So, this isn’t to say that I hate lingerie or that I think it’s a waste of fabric. In certain situations it has been the perfect lead up to some memorable moments but I’ve always felt that I had to proceed with caution. The more expensive the lingerie the more pause I had to give to my potential enjoyment.
When it comes down to it, I get the most turned on in those natural everyday moments.
Like when my girlfriend comes home from working out and I have breakfast ready for her. She offers to wash the dishes before she jumps in the shower. I bring the plates over to put in the sink. I catch a whiff of her sweat and find my hands pulling down the back of her shorts, getting down on my knees behind her, and allowing my tongue to go to work before I have her.
Hell, who can argue with that. I’ll take a set of work out clothes over lingerie any day.