The VPL is dead

It’s probably just as well I was driving and didn’t have a camera to hand, because it really isn’t the dove thing to take photographs of women’s arses in public without their consent.

My guess is there was a wedding or christening or bat mitzvah or something being celebrated just round the corner as the smartly dressed couple weren’t the only people heading in the same direction, done up in smart outfits and carrying brightly wrapped boxes.

What marked them out for me was her arse.

I’m sorry. I’m sure that sounds misogynistic to some, but …

Her dress wasn’t particularly figure hugging nor remotely see through, yet it still utterly failed to conceal her lingerie. Not that She had a VPL. Far from it. And I assure you, Dear Reader, while I waited for the traffic lights to change to green, I made every possible effort to look for one. There wasn’t even the merest hint of panties to be seen.

No. It was her suspenders that stood out. Almost as much as my erection did as I carried on driving, fantasising about what wasn’t really hidden beneath Her glad rags, whether She was indeed knickerless, whether her partner was lucky enough to be party to such information. and whether he was going to get to enjoy her sussies to the full later that evening.

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