Princess has a kink I didn’t know about until this week. But it turns out she gets turned on by tidiness and getting rid of clutter and I just happened to be having a belated spring clean and clear out which pleased her immensely.
The fact I found boxes of photos and clothes from my old slutty days certainly added to her enjoyment. I could just picture her face when I sent her a photo of the dress I wore on the Millennium. Black of course and completely and utterly sheer. I wore it with a black bikini underneath and danced on a table.
I also found a sheer pink vest top I used to love. Bought to layer under another top in an oh so nineties way, I remember putting it on one night to go clubbing and some friends calling round to drink first. By the time we jumped in a cab later, I was tipsy enough to have either forgotten or not care that I hadn’t layered the top up and went out in it.
It took a few moments in dark bars and clubs for people to notice that the top was completely see through and I wasn’t wearing a bra. I definitely didn’t buy a drink all night and I seem to recall my evening ended in a hotel room with one of the visiting DJs.
In contrast to the very tight figure hugging trousers I wear now, all the trousers I found from then were slouchy wide leg ones that I wore oversized and low on my hips, often without underwear and always with the hint that you could have just pulled them down to fuck me at anytime.
Sadly some of my sluttiness outfits were nowhere to be seen. There was a very tight strapless silver sparkly dress that was an eternal favourite when I was escorting. Everything about the dress screamed sex worker except that I always wore it with trainers and that confused bar staff into thinking I was a student playing dress up rather than actually working. Same with the red satin Chinese collared dress I had in those days that could decide if it was demure or dirty minded.
But my favourite most full on slut outfit was from when I first moved to London. I used to go to ridiculously hot dark hip hop nights dotted around dodgy pre gentrification railway arches around the city and the logical choice of outfit was again a bikini but worn under a pair of oversized denim dungarees.
I tended just to wear the bikini top and allow the cut out sides of the dungarees to show that I hadn’t bothered with the bottoms. Much easier for when you’d sneak outside part way through the night to get some air, usually accompanied by a man I’d met inside to hide in the shadows of another arch or alleyway together.
You could open the dungarees in a way that made it easy to pull them down at the back and bend me over to fuck me from behind while not actually being obviously naked which helps camouflage someone as pale as me in the darkness. There’s something also incredibly hot about fucking a stranger and keeping them a stranger that way.
I’m supposed to be clearing stuff out of my flat but this trip down slutty memory lane has me looking to buy a bikini top. I was more outrageous in my tastes in my twenties, but in my thirties I’ve got pierced nipples to show off instead. I think that’ll still turn Princess on…