#ladies underwear in Europe

[rozellanelson-blog]

WOMEN’S UNDERWEAR SHOPPING: GRABBING THE BEST

When it’s about underwear shopping need some quality tips. Here are some tips Jusy read before buying.

#womens underwear suppliers #womens underwear manufacturers 

#ladies underwear in Europe #underwear manufacturer uk #underwear manufacturer usa

[alanicglobal]

WOMEN’S UNDERWEAR SHOPPING: GRABBING THE BEST

When it’s about underwear shopping need some quality tips. Here are some tips Jusy read before buying.��

[tellius-to-fodlan]

Fódlan dress theories:

Underwear

They must wear underwear, but the silhouettes and exposed skin show that it's not the underwear of an equivalent period of earth history, but I doubt they have the materials for modern underwear, with its rubber elastic and foam. So, what would they wear?

We can see on Raphael that the closest garment to the skin for men (at least in the officers academy) is a shirt fastened with buttons:

Shirts of an equivalent time in Europe wouldn't open in the front, but that's not really relevant. I imagine the shirt is made of linen for easy laundering.

As for the bottom, I assume that men and women alike wear linen braies. They can probably be omitted by people wearing long skirts and not riding horses in favor of bare pussy for ease of toilet access when wearing an outfit that makes taking off underpants difficult/time consuming. They're probably short and close fitting, making tight pants easier to wear without obvious panty lines. My evidence besides history:

Look at those little shorts.

As for the apparent leggings some of the girls wear

I bet those are woolen hose, which fasten to the braies.

What about bust support, though? Well, the lifted silhouette is more like a modern push-up bra than anything else, but since I'm assuming they don't have the elastic and foam those are made of, my next guess is regency style short stays

They give considerable lift to the bust without giving a particularly distinctive silhouette like a longer support garment would.

Now, we get one mention of underwear in the game, and that's Dorothea's lost piece of cloth, which was unrecognizable as clothing to Caspar, so I'm assuming it's an unshaped rectangle. My hypothesis on the purpose of this cloth, which I have no historical evidence for, is that it wraps around the torso under the stays to serve at a buffer between the tough, but difficult to launder stays, and the sweaty, sensitive skin. We see no evidence of a chemise or shirt over Dorothea's ample bust, while a wrapped rectangle could be positioned directly at the stay line for total concealment, held on solely by the stays, would have a plenty of wiggle room for weight gain, and only requires hemming, making it a solid skin layer option for a lady on a tight budget who wants to show off her assets. Although given the lack of obvious voluminous chemises on any of the ladies, this could be a common choice across social classes.

Then..... There are the people who don't seem to have underwear on their torsos at all.

I'd guess that Judith is relying on clever tailoring for support, Dorothea's armored girdle does the job for her, and Manuela actually has something really interesting going on, with her bodice being laced close under the bust, and then the breast cups suspended from her neckband for lift. I want to try making that dress.

However, the pre-automatic washing machine laundress in me is screaming at the good fabric right next to the skin. I want to believe that these garments have removable linen linings where they touch skin. Maybe that's what's tied across the back of Dorothea's shoulders.

[city-of-ladies]

Lyudmila Pavlichenko tours the US

Nicknamed "Lady Death", Soviet Sniper Lyudmila Pavlichenko (1916-1974) was a force to be reckoned with. Credited with 309 confirmed kills, she is recognized as the most successful female sniper in history.

In 1942, she went to the United States as the Soviet Union attempted to convince the Allies to open a second front in Europe. Being a woman who had fought on the frontline, she was treated like an oddity. She was, for instance, asked some "simply stupid" questions during a press conference. Here are her answers.

QUESTION: Lyudmila, can you take hot baths at the front?

ANSWER: Absolutely, and several times a day. If you are sitting in a trench and there is an artillery attack, it gets hot. Very hot. That’s a real bath, only it tends to be a dust bath.

QUESTION: Did you have any protection?

ANSWER: Only my rifle.

QUESTION: Are women able to use lipstick when at war?

ANSWER: Yes, but they don’t always have time. You need to be able to reach for a machine gun, or a rifle, or a pistol, or a grenade.

QUESTION: What colour underwear do you prefer, Lyudmila?

ANSWER: In Russia you would get a slap in the face for asking a question like that. That kind of question is usually only asked of a wife or a mistress. You and I do not have that relationship. So, I will be happy to give you a slap. Come a bit closer . . .

QUESTION (from a woman journalist): Is that your parade uniform or your everyday uniform?

ANSWER: We have no time for parades at the moment.

QUESTION (also from a woman): But the uniform makes you look fat. Or don’t you mind?

ANSWER: I am proud to wear the uniform of the legendary Red Army. It has been sanctified by the blood of my comrades, who have fallen in in combat with the Fascists. It bears the Order of Lenin, an award for military distinction. I wish you could experience a bombing raid. Honestly, you would immediately forget about the cut of your outfit.

QUESTION: The tobacco company Philip Morris is offering you a contract. They are ready to pay half a million dollars to put your portrait on cigarette packets. Will you agree to it?

REPLY: No. They can go to the devil.

Lady Death, the memoirs of Stalin's sniper, Lydumila Pavlichenko

[dairy-farmer]

My third eye is wide fucking open and this is the vision I saw👀👀👀

[Warning for Non-con/rape]

Tim in Europe training with Lady Shiva. She says Tim has a lot of potential, but Shiva thinks he'll need some extra incentive/punishment when he fails to help the lessons stick.

They square up for a match before she even starts training him, as a way to show him what he will be learning. Unsurprisingly, she disarms him and knocks him down with the moments. Tim's on the ground and before he can even try to get back up she's on him, flipping him on his stomach and trapping his arms behind his back. Tim thinks she's just going to hold him there while lecturing him, until Shiva rips his leggings open and off him. Timmy jolts, confused, and tries to figure out what she's doing? Maybe this is like that game he heard some of his classmates talk about: strip poker? Where every time you lose you have to take off a piece of clothing? He had never played, but he could see how adding humiliation to a loss would encourage people to want to do better... Yeah, that must be it! Every time he messes up, he'll lose a piece of clothing, so if he doesn't want to be humiliated and fighting naked, he needs to do better!

Except... Shiva doesn't let him up after ripping his leggings. Instead, she continues to shove his underwear down around his knees, and then he hears a scraping sounds as she drags his staff over. Tim jolts when feels the blunt end of his staff rub against him, between his legs. What the hell!? He squirms and demands to know what Shiva thinks she's doing! She calmly tells him that losing a fight has consequences, and it's not always death.

Tim is still very confused - what is this consequence of to be? Embarrassing and grossing him out by rubbing his staff against the area where he pees and then making him fight with it? That's a really weird thing to do. But no, she keeps rubbing the blunt end against him and he feels a weird... Tingle? When it rubs against his pussy near his stomach. He squirms and wiggles as he feels himself start to get a bit... wet? But not like he peed or anything? And then he feels her press it against the very middle spot between his legs.

Tim bites his lip against the increasing pressure, confused about what she's trying to do, until the end of his staff pops inside him (?!?). Tim lets out a strangled scream as tears jump to his eyes. What is happening!? That hurt! Shiva tells him that, since he has a pussy, he's at a significantly increased risk of rape if his opponents ever pin him. Tim gasps around the discomfort as Shiva slowly works his bo staff deeper inside him. Tim weakly struggles as tears stream down his face. Rape? Is that what this is? Shiva is... is raping him?!

Honestly, she says, he should be grateful that she's being so slow and gentle in consideration of his first time, since a Rogue or random goon wouldn't have been. She slowly starts fucking the end of the staff in and out of Tim's poor virgin hole while he quietly cries under her. She starts to work up some speed, going faster and after a while she hears it: a confused choked off gasp.

Tim shakes his head back and forth at the strange sensations between his legs and inside him. The pain has mostly faded away to a dull ache, and now it feels kind of... good? And there's a kind of pressure building inside his belly.

Shiva fucks Tim with his own staff until he comes with a confused moaning gasp. Then she pulls the bo staff out of him and gets off his back. Tim lays there confused and exhausted, turning his tear and drool streaked face up to her as she tells him that that is enough for the day... They can continue their training in the morning. Tim eventually manages to sit up, pussy throbbing, and reaches for his staff. It's wet and shiny at the end, colored with a bit of blood. From his hymen, he thinks distantly. Slowly, Tim cleans off his weapon, and staggers to bed. Tomorrow, the real training begins.

~ ❤️🦇

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!omg omg omg omg this was SO GOOD!!!!!!! shiva using tim's training staff to fuck him and prove a point, telling him she's doing him a favor as she forces this hard, unforgiving, blunt peace of wood into tim. at any time shiva could have turned what she was doing lethal, one good hard push into tim's slick and weakly clenching cunt and she could have forced the blunt head in through the pinhole entrance of his womb, fucked it into the organ until he was bruised and swelling and passing out from the shock and pain. shiva is being a million times nicer than anyone else in her shoes would be. anyone else wouldn't use the staff, they'd tug their filthy cocks out and decide they could teach the little robin a lesson AND get something out of it too.

shiva was certain that if the boy's own master were here he'd also similarly do what anyone else in her place would do. the new little robin is small and too sweet and so eager to learn and master and help. and it's truly so unfortunate that he makes such a sight laid out and at the mercy of those who over power him. he's MADE to be a victim with his big eyes, soft mouth, sweet vice, and tight little body with a cunt that shiva would hazard to say was the nicest she'd ever seen, if such things mattered.

shiva gets no carnal pleasure over pinning down timothy and harshly fucking into his cunt, her eyes tracking every twitch and whine, staring at the hot tears racing down his cherubic cheeks, noting how his thighs spread the slightest bit wider when it all starts to feel good.

she doesn't try to make it feel good on purpose but she picks up on the little tells of his body. the way he arches up, the way his voice gets breathy, the way his eyes roll back a little. she pays attention to what he does and does her best to replicate what she did.

the next time he fails to perform, fails to fight her off she does the same punishment. this time she sees how his hips twitch, following the staff as its tugged out of him. she notes he might enjoy the punishments a bit too much so she's rougher the next time, she gets him to start crying again and is satisfied.

shiva takes the training of her students seriously and so she adjusts the strength of her punishments as necessary.

but bats.

they've always been gluttons for punishment.

[elizabethvictoriafashion]

1920s

1920s Fashion

For our third fashion history lesson, we studied the 1920s and Art Deco. The 1920s was an incredible decade that changed fashion as we know it. Skirt lengths shortened and women were finally liberated from the dreaded corset. The silhouette became more rectangular, undergarments were abandoned and women showed no cleavage. However, the waist was still aparent at the start of the decade.

By 1923, the waist had dropped, women became more flat chested and embroydery was heavy and glamorous. Fabrics such as sheer and chiffron were used (see through fabrics).

La Garconne

French for the bachelor girl, this word was used as a derogatory word by the elderly and a complement by the young. It was used to describe rebellious, tom boys with short hair and who wore men's clothing. They took part in pre-marital sex and other 'rebellious' activities.

By 1924, trousers were boudoir attire. For example, Paul Poiret's satin pajamas.

During this time, women began to reapply their makeup in public. This wouldn't have been allowed 20 years prior.

Despite the liberation of the corset, some women still used them to make their busts look flat. This was achieved by the freedom corset.

Menswear

The Prince of Wales became the 'it boy' for men's fashion. He was an idol, making fair Isle knits fashionable, and others such as: loose fitting tailoring 'bum freezer'; white flannel trousers and blazers; checkards; stripes; plaid. In 1925, the Oxford stripes became the trending trousers type. Loose fitting that had an average size of 40 inches! Despite the change of fashion from formal to casual, evening wear for men was still black tie and tails.

Lucian Lelong 1889-1958

Known as the man who saved Paris, Lelong stopped Hitler from moving Haute Cauture to Germany during the Second World War. Born into a family of designers, Lelong started a fashion business. He was a very smart business acumen. Unfortunately, he had to go to war. But once the war was over, he came right back into the fashion business. His business flourished with 1200 staff. Lelong was influenced by sport, due to this his designed are associated with fluidity. His dressmaking became engineering; he was a great innovator. Not to mention his 40 fagrances.

He developed the talent of up and coming designers, for example, Christian Dior. And in 1948, after nearly 30 years, Lelong closed his house for good.

Jean Patou 1887-1936

Not only a business man but also a ladies man. The two things Patou loved was women and business. That much so, he opened a dress shop after the First World War. He named it the House of Patou and got his family to work for him. Patou was inspired alot by Russian and Eastern influence, including his love of fur. He brought mens fabric into womens sportswear; similar to Coco Chanel. Patou saw trends like cubism and art decor, so used these in his work. Jean Patou did many iconic and unique things, such as; the first person to brand his work; brought over American models to work for him; created the most expensive perfume at the time, using 10600 jasmine flowers and 336 roses; created mens silk ties from biased cutting waste.

Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel (Coco Chanel) 1882-1971

Chanel did not start off wealthy, she was poor and didn't like her background. However, she lived a good life, despite the fact her mum died when she was 6. She lived and grew up in a nunnery making hats. Chanel was the first designer to create womens jersey taken from men's underwear. She paved her way into fashion by using sex and her sexuality. Her house was established at 31 ru cambon in 1909. At the time, Chanel No.5 was one of the best selling fragrances in the world! And the interlocking 'C's are the most famous fashion logo.

Art Deco

The Art Deco period is a movement in the decorative arts and architecture, originating in the 1920s in France after the First World War. It was developed into a major style in western Europe and United States during the 1930s. It was graphic, strong patterning with rich Egyptian colours; exoctic. For example:

Hoover factory, London 1932-1935

Chrysler building NYC.

An example of an Art Deco artist was Charles Rennie Mackintosh.

[fracktastic]

Frankfurt Airport, 2024

Or, “good thing we got here super early. And yes, this is totally why I’m paranoid about always getting to the airport super early.”

So. For those of you who don’t know, there is a super special secret security code you can get on your boarding pass, and if you get it, you will get super shitty security screenings. It’s printed on your boarding pass as “SSSS” and it’s supposedly random. Unless it’s triggered by flying on a one-way ticket, traveling to the wrong places, not having a checked bag, or traveling alone.

Suffices to say, I’ve gotten the lucky boarding pass before. And I got it again today. Yesterday? I don’t know. Blame the jet lag. 

This time, I didn’t actualyl do any of the things that alledgedly trigger it (traveling with my spouse on a return ticket to a NATO country in Europe, with checked bags). And… I don’t think it’s entirely random, but that’s a conversation for another day. It is what it is.

What I do want to voice some strong opinions on was how it was handled at the airport.

Before heading to the area with the US-bound flight we were boarding, we had to stand in line to go through a kiosk. There, an angry man separated me from my husband and told him to move along. I was escorted to wait with my fellow selectees (Random my ass. But again, no tthe main theme here). There, I got to watch the short, angry man yell at a father for wanting to stay with his minor child while she was being separated off and searched. When he argued that she was a child (true) and that meant he should stay (pretty sure that’s actually a legal right in those situations? Not a lawyer. Anyhow), our short, shouting friend started threatening him. He’d be “randomly” selected, too. He’d be on a list. And so on. The man pointed out that this kept happening to them. Short, angry security guy continued threatening until he got distracted by someone else to drag over to the random pool of selectees.

Dad stayed. Not sure if he got bonus scrutiny for it, as they went for their totally random search after I did. I do know they were among the last to board the plane. 

Anyhow. We’re hearded off to the “behind the scenes” zone. Short security dude continues to be rude and threatening. The first few are summoned. Then me. 

Silly me, when the lady asked if she could answer my bag, I asked if I actually had a choice. Should I have been snarky, you may ask? Probably not. But at this point, my better judgement had retreated behind a general sense of frustration. 

Instantly, she summoned over two very large, very armed police officers to stand over me. Cue the questions - why am I refusing, what do I have to hide, what was I doing here in the first place?  

I responded that I wasn’t refusing, just asking, as it seemed like I had... disproportionate luck with getting “randomly selected,” especially flying home from Europe, and it was starting to feel a little racist. But fine, I said. Do whatever you need to do to let me go home.

At that point, he appears to be photographing my passport with his cell phone (mind you, I’ve already cleared immigration and regular security at this point; I’ve been “stamped out” of the Shengen zone and am legally in the “nowhere” that is airside at an international airport). He insists he isn’t photographing it because that would be illegal, but keeps doing what he was doing, fusses with something on the screen, etc.... I didn't notice the police do this with anyone else's documents, but I wasn't super focused on them by the time I got to the screening cube.

Eventually, they decide I might actually be a teacher from California and not some terrorist mastermind, at which point, they commence with swabbing my computer, swabing my feet and shoes, etc., and  the woman peaks up my skirt (not pats - peaks - I am very sure she saw my underwear), and I’m allowed to go, just a little more disillusioned and a lot more apprehensive about future travel to Europe. Am I on a list? Will I have trouble on entry if I come back again? It’s probably paranoia, but what does one do if denied entry? Is there an appeal process? And again, I’m probably being paranoid, but here we are.

[lovelybrandt]

Football Imagines - My Dream Heart - Julian Brandt Smut

Smut Warning!!!! 🔞🔥🍑

Y/N Julian After Goes To The When You in House Of Manhattan And Brooklyn New York This Is Reality Was A Dream Kind State The City in Palace.

Jule Who Need In Goes April's House See Your Meet Brandt's Girlfriend Name April O'Neil My Best Friend Kimmich's Sister And Donnie's Wife That Sweetest Adorable Is Lovely Has A Teenager Little Princess From Scotland Home Of Edinburgh The Capital City in Nations Europe Of Ally Loyal Sewer Turtle Human

Jule Who Wants in Kitchen Make Tea Rose No Added Sugar And Sweet Pudding Custard Dessert And Strawberry Muffin Tea Cherry Blossom For His Wife April Is Ready Julian Time To Eats Taste Better Delicious is A Sweet Strawberry Muffin Sugar And Fruity Pudding Custard Tea Scent Like Rose Flower From France Better Than Ever Like Perfume And Floral Essential Taste Like Better Yum!!!! Is Too Much Non Sugar Very Better Like Fragrance

April Who Need Time To Eat Please Strawberry Muffin And Pudding Custard Tea Cherry Blossom Sweet Scent Smells Like Perfume Flowers Essential From Japan

Jule And April, Goes Take Need Wants Bedroom Cute Theme Color Yellow Is Soo Adorable Funny Sitting in Bed Duvet Single Size Medium Very Big Large Is Soft And Fluffy Has A Cute What Is Means Not Sleeping Was A Dreaming Everyone Thinking Yes

Julian And April Her Beautifiul Wearing Painted Red Nails Really Want Playing No Touch As Sweet Fun And Cuddle Her Kiss Actually Not Recognize Is Ours Having In Your Heart.

Y/N His Girlfriend April Who Wants Need Undressing She Taking Off Took Her Golden Bracelet And Her High Heels Silver Sandals Shoes And Her Red Dress Ruffle Her Revealing Lacy Black Bra And Panties Her Beautifiul Lace.

April is Hot Sit Her Bed Is Lucky Every Fluffy And Cuddle His Hug Need Love Take His Hand Him And Happy Share Better Than Like Mood When Gets Flirt Leave The Behind Alone Need Her Kissing Just His Husband Was A Dream.

Y/N Julian She Slowly Taking Off Leave In Your Tease Undress Her Shoes Black Sneakers And Her Blue T Shirt Her Black Active Long Pants And Her Revealing Get Harder His White Brief Is Already To Having A Sex In Bedroom

Jule And April Sit In Bed Gets Tweaking Love Hug And Cuddly Adorable Her Push Up Was A Sexy As Reality Funny And Shaking Hug Julian Her Shrugs Touch Breast Oops April Need Her Body Was Your Heart Is Could Wait Happen Breathe When Dream Mad About It

Jule April Frustration Beautifiul Redhead Hair This Lady Was Make Her Groan Silky And Holic Close Your Get Shake Twerking Taste V-Line In Your Lips Moans Very Loud These Remember Crush Is Happy Every Prickly Your Make Me Blush Too Much Pinky Is Cute Miss Insensitive Try Was Believe Dreams Join Life

Jule Are You Her Sexy Moans In Bedroom Thinking Goes Shaking Up And Giggle Was A Little Prince Is Soo Cuddly And Fluff Sweet His Girlfriend Applying With Body Lotion Smells Like Sweet Scent Candy And Berries Isn't Not Is Body Serum Without Cream As Smile Cheeky Punish April And Julian's Pulled Off Her Underwear Gets Dick Frustration Tweaking Ever Traced Again Moaned Her Panted Out Expand April's Mom Who Gets Knocked Door in Bedroom But Very Loud.

Oh No Julian And April Rainy The Weather Rain Cloudy Jule Window That Open in Bedroom Makes Will Close The Windows Over The Slips Hitting On Before Never I Could Wish Something I'm Gonna Just Hotter Was In Heart Badly So Stupid Even Care Really Sense

"Jule" Please Moans Make It Stop Such As Very Loud Ahhhh...........

Jule And April Sit In The Bed Make Her Sleeping Having Make Stop It Lot Of A Sex Was Could Remember What Football Such Has A Heart Make Me Happy Could Say It's Was A Dream Becomes Couple Has A Prince And Princess Sweet Well I Wish Take Your My Times Is Just Quiet Very Make A Kissing After Sleeping In Your Dreams Been Ago While.....

The End!!!

[whatevergreen]

A satyrical prose poem by Judy Grahn that I came across earlier (and is probably well known to some). It's funny. And grim. But very funny.

THE PSYCHOANALYSIS OF EDWARD THE DYKE

"Behind the brown door which bore the gilt letters of Dr. Merlin Knox's name, Edward the Dyke was lying on the doctor's couch which was so luxurious and long that her feet did not even hang over the edge.

"Dr. Knox," Edward began, "my problem this week is chiefly concerning restrooms."

"Aahh," the good doctor sighed. Gravely he drew a quick sketch of a restroom in his notebook.

"Naturally I can't go into men's restrooms without feeling like an interloper, but on the other hand every time I try to use the ladies room I get into trouble."

"Umm," said Dr. Knox, drawing a quick sketch of a door marked 'Ladies'.

"Four days ago I went into the powder room of a department store and three middle-aged housewives came in and thought I was a man. As soon as I explained to them that I was really only a harmless dyke, the trouble began…"

"You compulsively attacked them."

"Oh heavens no, indeed not. One of them turned on the water faucet and tried to drown me with wet paper towels, but the other two began screaming something about how well did I know Gertrude Stein and what sort of underwear did I have on, and they took my new cuff links and socks for souvenirs. They had my head in the trash can and were cutting pieces off my shirttail when luckily a policeman heard my calls for help and rushed in. He was able to divert their attention by shooting at me, thus giving me a chance to escape through the window."

Carefully Dr. Knox noted in his notebook: 'Apparent suicide attempt after accosting girls in restroom.' "My child," he murmured in feathery tones, "have no fear. You must trust us. We will cure you of this deadly affliction, and before you know it you'll be all fluffy and wonderful with dear babies and a bridge club of your very own." He drew a quick sketch of a bridge club. "Now let me see. I believe we estimated that after only four years of intensive therapy and two years of anti-intensive therapy, plus a few minor physical changes and you'll be exactly the little girl we've always wanted you to be." Rapidly Dr. Knox thumbed through an index on his desk. "Yes yes. This year the normal cup size is 56 inches. And waist 12 and 1/2. Nothing a few well-placed hormones can't accomplish in these advanced times. How tall did you tell me you were?"

"Six feet, four inches," replied Edward.

"Oh, tsk tsk." Dr. Knox did some figuring. "Yes, I'm afraid that will definitely entail extracting approximately 8 inches from each leg, including the knee-cap…standing a lot doesn't bother you, does it my dear?"

"Uh," said Edward, who couldn't decide.

"I assure you the surgeon I have in mind for you is remarkably successful." He leaned far back in his chair. "Now tell me, briefly, what the word 'homosexuality means to you, in your own words."

"Love flowers pearl, of delighted arms. Warm and water. Melting of vanilla wafer in the pants. Pink petal roses trembling overdew on the lips, soft and juicy fruit. No teeth. No nasty spit. Lips chewing oysters without grimy sand or whiskers. Pastry. Gingerbread. Warm, sweet bread. Cinnamon toast poetry. Justice equality higher wages. Independent angel song. It means I can do what I want."

"Now my dear," Dr. Knox said, "Your disease has gotten completely out of control. We scientists know of course that it's a highly pleasurable experience to take someone's penis or vagina into your mouth - it's pleasurable and enjoyable. Everyone knows that. But after you've taken a thousand pleasurable penises or vaginas into your mouth and had a thousand people take your pleasurable penis or vagina into their mouth, what have you accomplished? What have you got to show for it? Do you have a wife or children or a husband or a home or a trip to Europe? Do you have a bridge club to show for it? No! You have only a thousand pleasurable experiences to show for it. Do you see how you're missing the meaning of life? How sordid and depraved are these clandestine sexual escapades in parks and restrooms? I ask you."

"But sir but sir," said Edward, "I'm a woman. I don't have sexual escapades in parks or restrooms. I don't have a thousand lovers - I have one lover."

"Yes yes." Dr. Knox flicked the ashes from his cigar, onto the floor. "Stick to the subject, my dear."

"We were in college then," Edward said. "She came to me out of the silky midnight mist, her slips rustling like cow thieves, her hair blowing in the wind like Gabriel. Lying in my arms harps played soft in dry firelight, Oh Bach. Oh Brahms. Oh Buxtehude. How sweetly we got along how well we got the woods pregnant with canaries and parakeets, barefoot in the grass alas pigeons, but it only lasted ten years and she was gone, poof! like a puff of wheat."

"You see the folly of these brief, physical embraces. But tell me the results of our experiment we arranged for your last session."

"Oh yes. My real date. Well I bought a dress and a wig and a girdle and a squeezy bodice. I did unspeakable things to my armpits with a razor. I had my hair done and my face done and my nails done. My roast done. My bellybutton done."

"And then you felt truly feminine."

"I felt truly immobilized. I could no longer run, walk bend stoop move my arms or spread my feet apart."

"Good, good."

"Well, everything went pretty well during dinner, except my date was only 5'3" and oh yes. One of my eyelashes fell into the soup - that wasn't too bad. I hardly noticed it going down. But then my other eyelash fell on my escort's sleeve and he spent five minutes trying to kill it."

Edward sighed. "But the worst part came when we stood up to go. I rocked back on my heels as I pushed my chair back under the table and my shoes - you see they were three inchers, raising me to 6'7", and with all my weight on those teeny little heels…"

"Yes, yes."

"I drove the spikes all the way into the thick carpet and could no longer move. Oh, everyone was nice about it. My escort offered to get the check and to call in the morning to see how I had made out and the manager found a little saw and all. But, Dr. Knox, you must understand that my underwear was terribly binding and the room was hot…"

"Yes, yes."

"So I fainted. I didn't mean to, I just did. That's how I got my ankles broken."

Dr. Knox cleared his throat. "It's obvious to me, young lady, that you have failed to control your P.E."

"My God," said Edward, glancing quickly at her crotch, "I took a bath just before I came."

"This oral eroticism of yours is definitely rooted in Penis Envy, which showed when you deliberately castrated your date by publicly embarrassing him."

Edward moaned. "But strawberries. But lemon cream pie."

"Narcissism," Dr. Knox droned, "Masochism, Sadism. Admit you want to kill your mother."

"Marshmallow bluebird," Edward groaned, eyes softly rolling. "Looking at the stars. April in May."

"Admit you want to possess your father. Mother substitute. Breast suckle."

"Graham cracker subway," Edward writhed, slobbering. "Pussy willow summer."

"Admit you have a smegmatic personality," Dr. Knox intoned.

Edward rolled to the floor. "I am vile! I am vile!"

Dr. Knox flipped a switch at his elbow and immediately a picture of a beautiful woman appeared on a screen over Edward's head. The doctor pressed another switch and electric shocks jolted through her spine. Edward screamed. He pressed another switch, stopping the flow of electricity. Another switch and a photo of a gigantic erect male organ flashed into view, coated in powdered sugar. Dr. Knox handed Edward a lollipop.

She sat up. "I'm saved," she said, tonguing the lollipop.

"Your time is up," Dr. Knox said. "Your check please. Come back next week."

"Yes sir yes sir,” Edward said as she went out the brown door. In his notebook, Dr. Knox made a quick sketch of his bank.

Judy Grahn (published in Edward the Dyke and Other Poems, 1971)

[pulpman2]

Red Tie

Marv “Red Tie” Hammond smiled to himself as he eased open the rickety wooden window frame and stepped into the deserted house. He pulled himself through the open sash, and stood, tapping his lucky necktie in satisfaction. “Well, old pal,” he said aloud, “widow Harrison abroad in Europe, her house sitter in a bar downtown and her extensive collection of jewellery left unguarded in her bedroom. We are going to have a good night!” After helping himself to a scotch, the confident burglar sauntered up the stairs, singing happily to himself, opening up his hold all ready to receive the loot he knew the wealthy female recluse had hidden away. “Being an estate agent may have been boring but at least it taught me all the hiding places,” he laughed, rubbing his undone tie once again, “eh, old pal?” He entered the main bed toom

“Marv!” came a delighted, if slightly sarcastic female voice. “Three nights I’ve been waiting! Do you treat all your dates like this?” Marv snapped on the light and looked across at the bed from which arose a vision of dark haired loveliness, clad in lacy underwear, stockings and earrings and a cigarette stuck firmly in her mouth. This image of seductive voluptuousness was undermined a little by the small but lethal looking handgun the woman was holding, levelled directly at Marv’s chest. “My, you were chatty,” the armed female continued, levering herself out of the bed and into some heeled slippers, but keeping her gun trained on the intruder, “how is a girl supposed to get her beauty sleep?” Marv sighed miserably. “Sandy Hart,” he said wearily, “not you again?” The woman’s lipsticked mouth beamed as she stubbed out her cigarette. “Me again!” she confirmed. “Private detective for hire!” Marv looked at her sourly, ignoring the nylon sheen on Sandy’s magnificent legs. “Why did you have to interfere? Slut!” he muttered bitterly. Sandy frowned. “No need to be rude, Marv.” she admonished. “Still got your lucky red tie I see?” Marv glared at her, sensitive to mockery of his superstition. “I think I can think of a good use for that!”

*

Later, a glowering Marv sat tied to a chair in the bedroom, hands bound together behind his back with a pair of nylon ladies’ stockings and his ankles similarly secured, while he watched his female nemesis chat to the police on the phone. Being tied up by this smug witch was humiliating enough, he fumed, but she had gagged him too - and with his own lucky red tie! B***h! Still in her tight fitting underwear and nylons, Sandy turn to look at her furious prisoner with a dazzling smile on her lips. “I just need to get out of these things and put on a skirt and top before the cops get here, Marv,” she told him conversationally, “will you be a gentleman and look away, or do I have to blindfold you too?” Marv stared militantly at the woman, eyes blazing.

As she blindfolded her captive with yet another stocking, Sandy mused: “I’ll definitely need to buy some more pantyhose after this, but I guess you need a new lucky tie, eh, Marv?” The man grunted miserably through the necktie cleave gagging his mouth. “I don’t suppose this one is still in warranty is it?” she laughed.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover of Too Many Women by Gerry Martin (1950)

[dhampiravidi]

"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me." (Pogue to Jayn ❤️ He likes eye contact ❤️)

"So, I take it ya like what ya see?" Remy LeBeau was hardly an inch away, and his hand still held hers. There was a slight chill, which made her realize that she was just in her oversized tee and panties. "Oh...damn, chere...you dress like dis f'me?" He kissed her and her head spun. It didn't take long before she was on the bed, hot Cajun superhero on top of her. They made out like they were in a movie. She was tugging on his hair and his hands were doing everything right...

"Mm, oh please, please, mmph--gods I'm--" Right as she started to feel fucking great between her legs, ready for him to blow her mind, the room and his face faded away. Jayn mentally screamed in the name of the injustice being committed. HOW DARE the universe--

She didn't even bother to open her eyes. The soft sound of the AC coming on was enough. Oh gee, real life.

"Hm?"

There was something firm and warm and nice on her legs: hands. Raising an eyebrow, Jayn (her vision still blurry from sleep) lifted up the sheet to find Pogue rubbing soft circles into her inner thighs and smirking up at her.

"Wondered when you'd wake up. I know we talked about that somnophilia thing, but...I could wait." Fuck yeah. Her perfect boyfriend had stayed up late watching movies with her, and the last thing on their list had been the X-Men cartoon from when they were kids (bless reruns). Apparently, he'd stayed the night, and apparently, she'd fancasted him as Gambit. Rogue was a lucky butt. "You plannin' on goin' back to sleep?" Pogue asked before he licked her through her damp panties. She whimpered.

"N-no..." He let her move so she could take off her underwear, then moved her back into place before she could rub her legs together. Pogue knew that having him there was her favorite position--his unbelievably strong hands held her open no matter how much she squirmed, and she loved the sexy look he got in his eyes during the whole thing. Oh yeah, and he was great with his mouth. Some wanted "neat" or some shit. She was perfectly fine with "messy and generous".

He swept his tongue up and down, back and forth, nice and slow, teasing her until she was fully awake and begging for him to fuck her. Then he slid two of his fingers inside her, twisting and curling. The whole time, she was gasping, desperately trying to thrust against something that'd give her some kind of release.

"Did he fuck you like this?" There it was, those eyes, that look--like he wanted to eat her alive. A chill ran down her spine, but it was an excited one. He was gonna wreck her. "Did he?"

"No, y-you didn't--"

"Hm?" His hand hovered over right where she wanted him. Where she so desperately wanted him.

"Mm?"

"Tell me what he did. Tell me how good he made you feel."

"We kissed..."

"That's all?" If he kept teasing and rubbing her like that, she was going to go insane in the next few minutes.

"It was you, okay?--y-you were Gambit, you saved me from this vampire clown who was very high maintenance, and then we flew to a hotel room and--"

"Es-tu aussi sucré que tes yeux?"

"Excuse me--what?!"

Pogue smirked, gently squeezing her inner thighs.

"Took French in school. Reid's idea." Of course. Reid probably thought learning French would get him a girlfriend--if not at Spenser, then in Europe. Jayn knew that Caleb had already been to England to meet his dad's relatives.

"So...? What was that?"

"More or less: 'Do you taste as good as you look?'"

"Pogue!" She might've hit him with a pillow if she hadn't been so busy trying to hide her embarrassed face in her hands. They both told dirty jokes, but he was a lot more creative than she was. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her stomach.

"So you don't want me to taste you, mon fille [my lady]?"

"Fucking--fine," Jayn mumbled.

He really didn't need to be told twice. He treated her like she was melting ice cream, and he wasn't missing a drop. Pogue just took his time, too, not going any faster no matter how much she whined or squirmed. "Pogue, pl-lease--"

"God, you look so good like this..." He sucked hard on her clit, and she might've screamed loud enough to wake up Caleb in the next room if she hadn't covered her mouth in time. "Oh, babygirl, I wanna hear you," Pogue said, words dripping with faux disappointment.

"I can't--"

"You can't? Is Caleb the one you want to fuck you?"

"No..."

"Then c'mon, Jay. And don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me." He was grinning before he even saw her dark irises. She was almost as hungry for it as she was.

[mermazeablaze]

Sorry, seguing.

But I have friends that are a married couple. One of them is a teacher. Both of them seem like the cookie cutter neighbor types, who's "edgy side" is - traveling the world & the paranormal.

We had been friends for a few years. Years, okay. & not superficial friends either. Like we deeply confided in one another.

We decide to go camping together & her husband goes off to get wood.

She opens up to me because recently (at that time) - my hubs & I decided not to be so secretive about our open relationship.

She tells me how her & her husband want to be open. But don't want to live in the same state as their parents when they do. & how they've swung together in the past. & they got married before I met them, but how they afforded their honeymoon- they set up booty calls across Western Europe. & she said she enjoyed it. Except one guy who sweated a flood on top of her. & another who gave Norman Bates vibes & was fascinated with killing rabbits he raised.

& I am this antithesis to being prude. I've done multi types of sex work, for money & fun. I walk around in my underwear. I have kinky sex. I'll get naked in front of your sweet little grandma.

& here is my cute smol bean of a friend. So straight laced & prim & proper & lady like. & sweet as vanilla buttercream frosting - giving me a play by play about how she's secretly a little kinky deviant succubus.

So yeah, I can see people being bewildered by language you don't usually use around them. It isn't fair & it's a weird imaginary standard to hold someone to. But it happens.

anyone else get that “i never expected you to say swear words, you’re so innocent” shit from random people you’ve talked to maybe twice

[sippinggossip]

At the time of damoria vic was dating that lorenzo guy from Netflix and d was with the older lady…the same older blonde that was on tour with him and posted that pic of herself with d’s underwear on her head, you can find it on Twitter that gossip account has it. The older lady also sat in the audience while maneskin did an interview in europe can’t remember the name but they got a Spotify award I think 2021 summertime

I remember seeing something about Lorenzo.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

078 of 2024

Created by dietgrrrl

How many pairs of converse shoes do you own?

None. I just own similar style ones.

Any other names your parents planned to give you?

My dad wanted Joris, but oh well. If I was a girl, I would be named Natalie, Rosalie, Julie or Paulina. Or Mathilda, I heard.

Are you hot?

No, I'm cold.

Which is the most beautiful place you know?

The city in Poland named Slupsk. Very beautiful city and one of my favourites.

What do you work with?

Trains. For real.

Five everyday essentials you never leave the house without?

Phone, keys, wallet, earphones, a small drink bottle.

Have you ever hit an animal with your car?

No, but my dad did.

Favorite ride at the amusement park?

None. I don't like rides.

Favorite beauty essential in your bathroom cabinet?

Shower gel lol. If it smells nice, then yeah.

Do you have many followers on your tumblr?

18 on this one, 80 or something on the main one. I don't really care, I'm too old for that.

Do you tan easily?

No, but I burn easily. Ow.

Are you expecting something in the mail?

Yeah, two packages. All travel essentials.

Do you inspire others?

I don't know, ask them.

Favorite dessert:

Cheesecake, but not American. The European one made of quark is the real cheesecake.

What do you collect?

Pens, notebooks, keyrings, lucky trees, other stationery, memories.

Do you like cats?

I love cats. I have a cat, too.

Are you healthy?

Yea I wish. I have a chronic illness and physical disability.

Have you ever been out of state?

Maybe out of state of mind. I'm European.

Can you always blame your acts on that you were just too drunk?

No. It's the most lame excuse ever. If you cant drink properly, just don't drink, ffs.

Three things you try to avoid as much as possible:

Nuts in food, awful people, wasps.

How many times have you been overseas?

Never. I always stayed in Europe.

Do you use to have someone in mind when shopping for underwear?

No. I don't buy underwear to impress others. Who can see it anyway? My husband and maybe our cat, but she couldn't care less.

Number of jeans in your closet:

I never counted, but much enough.

What accent do you have?

West-Flemish, the whole Netherlands (and the rest of Belgium) make fun of it. But we speak how we speak okay?

Where would you like to live?

I'm fine with where I am.

Do you follow fashion?

No, I don't. What's the point anyway if you want to be just yourself?

Do you have a big butt?

Oh lol. Ask my husband.

Your worst job nightmare is:

Sex work lol. Also retail and cleaning.

Who's the coolest rapper in the world?

Baas B okay :P also Sadistik, he's great and heavily underrated.

Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together?

6 years and counting, we're ay past the bf thing.

Have you graduated?

14 years ago.

Should you go to a dance class or a charm class?

What's charm class?

Rihanna or Lady GaGa?

Gaga, she proved she actually can sing.

Do you use fake eyelashes?

Lol no. Maybe I'd do it for lolz.

What's your worst interior design nightmare:

Overloading with colours, styles and unnecessary things.

Which was the last book that really captivated you?

Oh my, how can I choose. Probably Nala's World by Dean Nicholson, a beautiful story of a man who adopted a stray kitten and travelled around the world with her.

What are you wearing today?

Not much. It's Sunday and I don't have to do much outside.

Have you ever been so drunk that the police had to take care of you?

No, but I had my friends do it.

Are you one of those people that often feel sorry for yourself?

No. I just keep going.

Do you have a MySpace? And actually use it?

Does Myspace still exist?

What make up brands do you use?

I don't wear makeup.

What's the last vacation spot?

Poland, coming this year as well.

What's the worst kind of rejection you could give someone?

Any rejection is bad, but being rude is the worst.

Do you have a crush on someone right now?

No. I only have squishes at most.

When are one guaranteed to NOT get laid?

Me not wanting it.

Is there anyone that many people think is hot, but you don't?

Yeah, a lot of people. Mostly celebrities.

How often do you wash your hair?

Two times a week.

Who's your free pass?

I don't understand this question.

Do you sort and organize your clothes in some kind of way?

I do, once in a while. Too rarely, though.

Three persons you would like to thank:

My dad, my sister, my husband.

[uswe]

@ereborne tagged me

Name:  Eileen

Nicknames:  Chiomi

Gender:  I have socks that say "I'm a delicate fucking flower" and a perfume called "Don't be a lady, be a legend" and have landed generally in 'female'

Star Sign:  Leo

Current Time:  9:26 am

Favorite Artists:  Ivan Aivazovsky, Johannes Vermeer, Fyodor Vasilyev

Song Stuck In My Head:  “Seventeen” – Sharon Van Etten

Last Movie I Saw:  Fatal Journey - the Untamed tie-in movie about Nie Huaisang ultimately choosing violence and deciding that no laws - whether natural or manmade - were going to get in the way of his ruining someone's whole life.

Last Thing I Googled:  Russian landscape painters, because despite writing a whole ass paper in undergrad about Vasilyev I was forgetting his name

Other Blogs:  @herebedragonflies which is actually my default account but is a crossover comic between Homestuck and Kagerou

Do I Get Asks:  not much

Reason For URL:  tristan and I are always together and this was also originally conceived as a joint account

Following:  108

Average Sleep: like 7

Lucky Number:  7

Currently Wearing:  t-shirt and underwear because i had a meeting that i'd forgotten about so i'm totally presentable (mostly) from the shoulders up

Dream Job:  tbh my current job? i get to play with spreadsheets and tell people what they're doing wrong

Dream Trip:  Europe with Tristan, flying in comfort and then trains and hostels

Favorite Food:  Sushi

Instruments:  vaguely guitar, vaguely piano, a variety of drums but not a drum kit

Favorite Song:  it varies! I like a lot of music. Sort of a perennial 'this represents me' song is Dessa's 5 out of 6. I get it stuck in my head sometimes after team meetings

And I'm running a tight ship Every deckhand here has a five-year plan And a ice pick

[krakajici-kavka]

Yeah one time we were driving through Poland and we saw a billboard by the road. On that billboard, there was a very "sexy" lady, just in her underwear, you know that type of ads. In bold, capital letters, there was also the word "SKLEP". In Polish, that means "shop". Sklep, in Czech, means "basement". And we must not forget Slovene and Czech. Slovene: Child = "Otrok" Czech: "Otrok" = Slave

Family holidays to Southern Europe were, thus, always very fun.

Levels of understanding other slavic languages

oh we also have X and it means the same!

that looks like X but misspelled

that's just the archaic variant of X

this sounds a lot like Y from another slavic language I know which means X in mine so this almost 100% also means X

this word is completely different but I can kinda tell the meaning from the morphology

what

okay right now I'm gonna have to dissect the entirety of this language's history to figure out how the FUCK did y'all get to the point of calling X that and not something more normal

I wanted to ask for X and accidentally called someone a whore