(no subject)
Oct. 13th, 2008 02:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vicarzI'm back, and sick as hell. Haven't seen LJ for 2 weeks. I can't do justice to the habitat experience right now, will write later. Suffice to say for now that I'm sick as hell and I hurt in many strange places, but I feel really good deeper inside. Really really good.
This is my first visit to LJ since the drunk post when the other kids were cross-dressing, so I'm not going to even try to catch up with any LJ nor do I think I'll be reading for a day or a week or so. I'm available for any updates but can't keep up or catch up.
However I will write this: My fiance Jane wore t-shirts to bed. Her father was a Navy officer, who worked hard and left most of the child-rearing to their mother - a librarian. The librarian was a free thinker who, for instance, was one of the early members of la leche league (which pushed to return to breast feeding as healthier than formula, an idea that had become foreign at the time). One of these hippie-esque beliefs was that there really wasn't a need to clothe children. The girls, 4 of them, ran around safe places like home with whatever they wanted if they wanted.
Jane was the oldest. I never was sure if there was "an incident" or if a tired Navy officer came home to many welcomes from his budding teenaged daughter, naked, when the shirt rule was created and invoked. Basically as the oldest girl had started to develop, you couldn't just run around "even the house" naked anymore - you had to at least wear a shirt. Jane loved (and I respected) her father, but was not happy with this rule. However, daddy was a big man who worked hard and produced many tired old undershirts. White, thin from washing, torn undershirts. Jane adopted a collection of them, and recycled them along with at least the next oldest sister.
Jane grew from a b to a c cup during the time I was with her. I took the time to explain to her that the t-shirts with panties made her more naked than naked. A perky breast is something I appreciate, but seeing it outlined against a sheer white cloth, with precious curves barely hidden in shadows of light - with gasps of flesh peeking around various holes from different angles? I could get used to her ass just lying around, but I could not get used to her tiny-pantied ass poking suggestively from beneath an XL shirt as she cuddled up beside me, reached up for anything, kicked the sheets off the bed, or straddled me excitedly. Jane enjoyed the effect of making being dressed more naked than being nude, thoroughly.
There was another distinct incident with her younger sister - the result of which was the rule of no boys in bedrooms. That rule was quickly relaxed for me, though I tried to keep it from the younger girls (we all did).
Her father was a strong man who rarely created any rules but always enforced them when invoked. I wonder if he won that war - strict compliance was adhered to, but with perhaps questionable results. To this day I'm hard pressed to find any sexy outfit that tops floppy t-shirts.
This is my first visit to LJ since the drunk post when the other kids were cross-dressing, so I'm not going to even try to catch up with any LJ nor do I think I'll be reading for a day or a week or so. I'm available for any updates but can't keep up or catch up.
However I will write this: My fiance Jane wore t-shirts to bed. Her father was a Navy officer, who worked hard and left most of the child-rearing to their mother - a librarian. The librarian was a free thinker who, for instance, was one of the early members of la leche league (which pushed to return to breast feeding as healthier than formula, an idea that had become foreign at the time). One of these hippie-esque beliefs was that there really wasn't a need to clothe children. The girls, 4 of them, ran around safe places like home with whatever they wanted if they wanted.
Jane was the oldest. I never was sure if there was "an incident" or if a tired Navy officer came home to many welcomes from his budding teenaged daughter, naked, when the shirt rule was created and invoked. Basically as the oldest girl had started to develop, you couldn't just run around "even the house" naked anymore - you had to at least wear a shirt. Jane loved (and I respected) her father, but was not happy with this rule. However, daddy was a big man who worked hard and produced many tired old undershirts. White, thin from washing, torn undershirts. Jane adopted a collection of them, and recycled them along with at least the next oldest sister.
Jane grew from a b to a c cup during the time I was with her. I took the time to explain to her that the t-shirts with panties made her more naked than naked. A perky breast is something I appreciate, but seeing it outlined against a sheer white cloth, with precious curves barely hidden in shadows of light - with gasps of flesh peeking around various holes from different angles? I could get used to her ass just lying around, but I could not get used to her tiny-pantied ass poking suggestively from beneath an XL shirt as she cuddled up beside me, reached up for anything, kicked the sheets off the bed, or straddled me excitedly. Jane enjoyed the effect of making being dressed more naked than being nude, thoroughly.
There was another distinct incident with her younger sister - the result of which was the rule of no boys in bedrooms. That rule was quickly relaxed for me, though I tried to keep it from the younger girls (we all did).
Her father was a strong man who rarely created any rules but always enforced them when invoked. I wonder if he won that war - strict compliance was adhered to, but with perhaps questionable results. To this day I'm hard pressed to find any sexy outfit that tops floppy t-shirts.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-16 12:27 am (UTC)i hope we see you this weekend! also: people, with no exception i can think of, are always sexier with clothes on verses no clothes, in exactly the way you refer to in your (great) post.