When Debby proposed a fashion week for MSP, I immediately thought back to the magazines tucked away in my parent’s garage, and a particular article in one of my favorite magazines. You see, back in the early 00′s (the naughts if you’re nasty), Nerve.com, the online community for thoughtful hedonists, had the gall to try and start a print magazine. These artfully done issues had sexy stories and pictures, which made for a wonderfully erotic read. However, their insistence on running sex-positive and feminist images and stories made it look woefully out of place next to the other porn mags, so the print version of the website was stopped after a scant six issues.
I am lucky enough to still be in possession of five of these wonderful sexual artifacts, and had forgotten how much fun each of them was to read.
OK, you got me. I mainly look at the pictures.
In one of the last books, there was a feature on fashion, in which Jack Murnighan (author of The Naughty Bits and Beowulf on the Beach) wrote a primer on how one should take one’s clothes off. While I would be loathe to try and match the titillating prose of Mr. Murnighan, who writes the way BeyoncÃ© dances, I offer my own humble version of this, with a personal twist. Here’s how to take MY clothes off:
Don’t wait. Start quickly. Move from zipper to button to snap with the grace of an ice dancer. Shove me on the nearest surface then haul me towards you to pull my shirt over my head. Make sure the shirt, like you, always comes first. I hate the feeling of wearing JUST a shirt; the nightshirt look should be reserved for Scrooge, the Lost Boys, and Barney Stinson. Take a moment to trace the lines of my chest and think about our bodies: their differences and similarities, their bumps, curves, hair, and skin.
After the shirt, please grab my socks, those wonderful protective pieces that cover the feet and need to be off when naked. Socks while naked are NEVER the answer. Use this safer socks opportunity to work your hand up my jeans and tickle the back of my knee. Just like Scott Pilgrim’s female nemesis, this will positively cause me to melt. Don’t tease too long, though, please. Move to my waistband, taking a minute to admire my vintage belt buckle (I have a collection) before snapping it off and zipping down my jeans. At this point you should see something pointing back at you â€“ don’t worry, in this instance, it’s polite to point. Take my jeans all the way off, unless you want to leave them hanging around an ankle for that “just-can’t-wait-for-it” feeling. But please, only one ankle, so I don’t end up feeling like a soldier from Toy Story if I need to get up quickly. Bonus points are awarded for the trick where you pull my pants off using just your feet.
By now, I’m straining at the fabric of my cotton boxer-briefs like a weather balloon blown up in a car â€“ there’s just not enough room! Gently dip my waistband down to release my tension and watch it bounce back and forth (go ahead, make the “boing!” noise, but only in your head, please!). Banish my boxers from the bed and then admire my naked body. Press your body against mine, and revel in the desire we have for each other.
And don’t worry about the mess â€“ we’ll pick up the clothes later.
Join us this week as we explore the intersections of sex and fashion on MySexProfessor.com.
Image thanks to one of our staff writers.