May 092015
 

Skirts, dresses, yoga pants, shorts, what’s not to love?

When I was in college, there was a sort of mini-trend among certain men to wear skirts. Not in an explicitly transvestite way, these were men who purported not to get any particular charge, sexual or otherwise, from wearing “women’s clothes,” but who rather simply rejected gender conformity in favor of comfort.

I’ve never worn a skirt or dress, and have no particular erotic desire to do so, but I confess, they do look far more comfortable, and stimulating, to wear than anything I can wear that conforms to gender expectations. And I do feel a sexual charge on seeing an attractive woman wearing clothes that cover her pussy from my view, but not from the air. As I walk around and see so many women bearing their legs, and thighs, and cunts to the refreshing spring breeze, I can’t help but feel a little tingle in my cock, imagining the sensations they are having, even imagining myself being the breeze. Not in a Prince-Charles-imagining-himself-a-tampon sort of way. But still.

Yoga pants, of course, are a whole ‘nother thing. The pleasure they give me is far less sensual, far more visual. The way in which they simultaneously reveal all and nothing is an astonishing tease to me, both showing me everything I want to see (form, shape) and nothing (flesh). There was a brief kerfuffle recently about an ostensibly (though not actually) proposed law outlawing yoga pants in some state, because of the ways in which they stimulate men’s minds.

I’m not, you surely know, one of those who believes what a woman wears gives men license to conclude anything about a woman’s generic or specific desires. (The idea that a woman was “asking for” anything by deciding to wear anything is repulsive to me.) At the same time, it is hot to me that when an attractive woman decides to go out and about in yoga pants, she does know – she must know – the effect her choices has on passers-by. This is hot to me.

Finally, shorts. Shorts are awesome because – well, because legs are awesome, asses are awesome, pussies are awesome – and I love seeing just that much more of a woman’s flesh, having available to my gaze that much more that’s close to the ultimate objects of my desire.

I’m sensitive to the power of the male gaze, to the danger of objectifying women, of reducing them to their sexuality. I try very hard to avoid those dangers in actual real-life interactions.

But man. I love spring.

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