No, many men don’t care if their women get dolled up in frilly underthings before sex. Too bad for those guys, the lingerie isn’t for their benefit, anyway.
The Victoria’s Secret crowd often characterizes lingerie as a naughty necessity for women looking to ignite diddle-time desire in the bedroom. Come to find out, though, that the menfolk often claim these fancy undies are unnecessary. Most guys don’t require a lacy string of fabric crawling up their lady’s tuchus to put them in the mood for love—just give them the tuchus. Go ask almost any dude, and he’ll tell you that all he really needs is for a lady—as long as she’s ready, willing and able—to show up at his house and get buck naked, and that packs enough aphrodisiacal power to get his pecker prepared for pounding.
“I think [lingerie] looks good,” Paul, 35, tells HUSTLERMagazine.com, “but I’m more interested in what’s underneath it.”
Of course, this indifference to lingerie often runs contrary to a fellow’s carnal awakening. Back in the day, many a whippersnapper jerked off almost exclusively to the nightwear section of the Sears catalog (or Frederick’s of Hollywood, if they were lucky), experiencing their first orgasms to seminude models in silk and lace. It was the most bountiful amount of womanly flesh any of these horny young lads had likely ever seen. Often, these curious kids would rip the pages out of these catalogs to take to school for a playground show and tell, giving their less fortunate brethren, those who didn’t have access to said catalogs, a taste of lecherous society. Rodney, 52, of Terre Haute, Indiana, spent his formative years with one such Johnny Appleseed of jerkoff fodder. “When I was in grade school, around fifth grade or so, there was a kid who had a bra ad from a K-Mart circular taped to the inside of one of his notebooks,” he remembers. “He was always showing it off until, one day, he got caught by the teacher. We thought they were going to kill him for that.”
