As much fun as skin tight lycra can be, there’s something lost in the revelation of the my
As much fun as skin tight lycra can be, there’s something lost in the revelation of the mystery. Conceal to reveal is a bullshit idiom, as that’s definitely not what you’re doing when you conceal, but the idea that you tease the eye with suggestion rather than engorge it with statement is something that I can enjoy. I obsess over that moment of stretched fabric, watching a girl shift for a moment, stretch and then slide the material over the swell of her chest, the tightness of her stomach. To have the most beautiful and sexual parts of her on show for a moment, and only a moment, is a fleeting pleasure that it’s difficult not to indulge in. And to gawp is a terrible thing, a leer as bad as catcall in some ways, but it’s less primal desire as considered appreciation. Maybe that doesn’t make it better. Perhaps I shouldn’t look. Maybe the moment where you catch the strange man on the train glancing at you as you stretch puts your day on a downward note. Or perhaps you enjoy the attention, and see it for what it is. I’d like to think so. -- source link
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