"Far from repressing us, our girdles offered us the opportunity of intensifying our pleasure while protecting our virginity..."
It's a common observation that, back in the old days, the girdles that young ladies wore on dates served as a formidable protective barrier against unwanted advances. The topic has come up frequently in Usenet discussions:
On alt.fashion:
Sometimes life isn't fair. Having a wrestled around a bit in various vehicles (as a younger person) I feel somewhat qualified to examine how cruel fashion and society can be. At just about the time that bane of all men (and defender of all virtue) -- the long-legged panty girdle-- went out of style, the bucket seat came into style. There are human activities that are easier to accomplish in the front seat of '51 Buick than they are in the bucket seat of a Triumph TR3 (trust me- I know from this). Small vehicles and bucket seats are a diabolical invention of George Orwell's Anti-sex league. Those are the same people responsible for building malls and cineplexes on those great American institions-- drive-in theaters.
-Joel
On alt.clothing.lingerie:
I still have very vivid memories of wrestling with girdles in front seats and back seats at drive-in movies. Hooking a thumb in a long leg girdle, pulling it up and out just far enough, and...
-George
Hmmm...seems girdles saved a lot of unwanted babies coming into the world. Your post sounds like an excellent argument for reviving the girdle as an article of daily wear, this time around for both sexes. (half a smiley)
-Marian
Occasionally, the subject has come up on groups entirely unrelated to clothing:
On rec.arts.quilting:
There you go again, taking me down memory lane. You would go out on a date and a guy's hands would "accidentally" stray to the girdle area and then - freeze! They gave up- Old Girdie won fair maiden her virtue again, whether she wanted it or not! That darned girdle was just too big a barrier to over come for the shy and cautious. And a "good" girl would never help out...right?
-Willene
Aha! So the sexual revolution can be blamed on the demise of the girdle! No girdle to give everyone that "sober second thought"!
This explains things!
I wonder what will happen now that the Supreme Court has decided that women in Ontario need not cover their breasts? Will people be copulating in the streets?
Ah me, the mysteries of life!
Lynne
(cantilevered and wired)
On alt.war.vietnam:
And as soon as I figured out how to get past the girdle, damned if they didn't come out with that infernal invention - pantyhose!
-Charles
If you boys would have mastered the art of smooth talking, the pantyhose, girdle and panties would have come off by themselves!
-Loretta
One immediately identifies some common threads in these reminiscences. There's a note of rueful nostalgia, an awareness of the humor of it all, and most interestingly, a suggestion- implied in Willene's message, quite clear in Loretta's- that the girdle gave a woman final control over a sexual encounter.
This latter point was explored throughly in 1995 and 1996 on the newsgroup alt.clothing.lingerie. An offhand comment by "Theresa" opened the floodgates to an intense discussion that eventually seemed to establish that, to some young women, the girdle served as a means of achieving that very modern concept, sexual empowerment.
-Virginian
From Theresa:
(I) just remembered that one of the reasons my mother was so insistent on her teenaged daughters wearing panty girdles is because they made fairly good chastity belts, especially in the back seat of a car.
From Susan B:
Boy, does this ring true! And does it bring back some memories of one of my longest struggles with my mother when I was growing up...
About the time I started to date, Mom's nosiness and insistence on me wearing a girdle escalated a couple of notches - especially when going out on a date. She really wanted me to go back to a heavier and longer legged girdle, but with skirts so short (1970), she realized that it was not really practical. And, I wore my skirts really short - long legs sort of being compensation for being so damn short-waisted and looking dorky in many styles of tops. I mentioned Mom's renewed interest and insistence on Sharon and me wearing a girdle while out on dates to some of my friends and found that most of the ones that were dating were experiencing the same thing. We discussed it for some time and then finally someone said that she heard that girdles on dates were considered chastity devices by Moms everywhere. I was amazed at the logic and simplicity of it.
I waited up late until my sister got home from a date that night and sprung this new theory on her. I explained that I thought the reason that Mom is so insistent on us wearing girdles on dates, and that I had corroborative evidence on this, was because she thought they would prevent sexual intercourse while out on dates. "No, they don't," says she, just like that, and goes upstairs to her room. I was about half-way up the stairs behind her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with my theory when I realized that Sharon had said "No, they don't" instead of "No, she doesn't" and the little light above my head winked on. I had to sit down.
I was instantly dying to know all the details and what it was like and just everything. I followed her into her room to interrogate her. Well, that didn't work - she just told me to forget about it and go to bed. Yeah, right. I briefly considered trying to force her to talk now that I was bigger than she, but decided that probably wouldn't work, and went to bed. But I did not sleep a wink.
Mother's rule stood, but since I needed the girdle to keep the pantyhose up anyway and I now had proof that a girdle would not necessarily spoil any fun, I continued to wear them without any real rebellion. But I could not keep from smiling every time Mom would go through the drill and ask, "What have you got on under there?" before Sharon or I left on a date. Sharon was somehow better able to hide her smile.
Later on I started dating a guy that really got off on my long legs and would spend hours rubbing and massaging them through the pantyhose (heaven!). At first I was afraid he would make some comment or would not like it the first time he encountered the girdle during a make-out session. Well, it turned out that it had just the opposite effect. Sometime later, I let him rub that part, too :-). And a little later on, I had him prove to me that "No, it doesn't." :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)
While others have mentioned the fact that they served as chastity belts (which they did), there's also the fact that their tightness in that area (I must blushingly admit) increased the erotic arousal of a date, while providing protection at the same time.
Although many of my slim girlfriends didn't need a girdle to shape themselves (I always did), they wore girdles so that someone walking behind them would not see them as what my mother called "sloppy." They would not, in other words, bounce back and forth in a way that men could find sexually suggestive. Well, in 1968 and 1969, people were beginning to worry less about being sloppy or immodest. I'm sure many men liked it if a woman, to use the terminology of the period, "let it all hang out." So the freedom to not wear girdles was in a large way part of a different sexual aesthetic made possible by the sexual revolution, an aesthetic that stressed that the less you inhibited the natural form of the body, the sexier it was, because it was closer to what was thought to be sexiest of all: nudity.
If you think that bouncing around and being nude is sexy, then you inevitably feel that not bouncing around and being contained is repressed. Girdles became associated with what was thought to be the sexual repression of the 1950's and early '60's. This false association is based on an assumption which also distorts our view of the Victorian period: the belief that prudishness is effective in suppressing sexual energy. I think that the reality is that the prudishness of a period forces sexuality to sublimate itself into all sorts of creative sign-making, especially in dress, which may explain why the clothing of the Victorian period and the fifties and sixties is so erotic.
Sure, the period 1950-65 was prudish, and sure, a young woman would feel that she was a slut if she had sex, but that hardly means that sexuality was effectively repressed. I remember that period as being far more sexually charged than the world of today, and it's not just that I was younger. There was the constant erotic charge of all the gender difference and all of the elaborate play of symbols of gender difference. Sexuality was not expressed by rolling nude in the mud and having orgies. It was expressed by wearing girdles and petticoats, by dating, and flirting. Sure it looked less like actual sex than what came later, but it was arguably more intense because of that.
The association of girdles with repression is particularly easy because they cover the genital area and are hard to get off or out of. So one can make a facile analogy between them and chastity belts. I'm not saying that they didn't provide a certain protection in certain dating and necking situations. But that didn't mean that the young lady encased in the girdle wasn't feeling anything. In fact, I know that I, and my sisters, and my girlfriends, would invariably wear our tightest girdles on dates. The ostensible reason was that we wanted to look our best for our dates. But I don't mind admitting to you now what I knew then, but would never have admitted to anyone back then: since dates always involved some degree of sexual arousal, whether or not there was necking or petting involved, my sexual arousal was intensified by my tight girdling. And I loved that. And to be honest, I wouldn't have loved it as much if what I was wearing underneath was easier to get off. I would have felt more vulnerable.
So the irony is that, far from repressing us, our girdles offered us the opportunity of intensifying our pleasure while protecting our virginity. This was not, in retrospect, a bad thing. And it is entirely different from repression. But because the generation after us only seems to recognize intercourse as appropriate sexual expression, they can only see girdles as obstacles.
From Susan B:
I also found that I always felt "secure" while wearing a tight panty girdle when out on dates. Here I could be "naughty," get some really enjoyable petting and stimulation (intensified by the tight girdle) during make-out sessions, and be completely "safe" from things getting out of hand - on either his or my part. That made it all the more pleasureable. The "here it is, you can look at it, you can touch it (and later on: you better touch it!), but that's as far as it goes" sort of thing guarenteed a good time for all without me having to always be so much on guard. It was great to just relax and let everything happen, knowing that there would be no "accidents."
It also gave me a real strange feeling of power - a feeling of being invunerable, in control, and yet not actually responsible for SEX not happening. This is kinda complicated and hard to explain... Even now, when I think back to those times and to some specific dates, it is expressed as a feeling, not as words or easily described concepts. Here goes... I could actually take the girdle off and have SEX (as I did later on), but unless I took the initiative and broke the sacred girdle seal (something boys were not supposed to know was possible), SEX could not happen and it would not be my fault that it didn't (you can't blame me).
Thinking back on it, there were times when I had the girdle off before we were out of the driveway, if that was my intention (no small accomplishment when you're 5'10" and wearing heels - I guess cars were a lot bigger back then... or maybe I was a little more flexible). Later on, my girdle did not interfere in the least with my decision to become sexually active, although it did kinda help in obtaining the boy with whom I became active (heh, heh, heh).
Was wearing a girdle forced upon me? Probably so, in the strictest sense, but I never felt like it was or thought that it was. It was something that I had always wanted to do before I was old enough, and once I was old enough, it was something that I did with some pride and a strong sense of decorum.
Our mother never told us that we must wear one, we just knew that it served a purpose and that it was expected - not only by her, but by society in general. And we accepted that. Only later, when we were dating, did the issue ever come up on a personal level - she wanted to be sure we (uh... well... mostly me, I guess) were wearing a panty girdle out on dates, the heavier, the better, no doubt in desperate hopes of helping to preserve our "virtue."
As you say, my sister and I were required to wear a panty girdle out on dates, the heavier, the better, no doubt as "protection" for our virtue. It was widely assumed/understood by me and all my friends at the time that panty girdles were considered be chastity enforcement devices by moms everywhere.
And, I found that I always felt "secure" when wearing one out on a date. I could then relax and be "naughty" and get some really enjoyable petting and stimulation during make-out sessions, and be completely "safe" from things getting out of hand - on either his or my part. And for those of us who find wearing a tight girdle to be mildly sexually stimulating, wearing one out on a date made the make-out sessions all the more pleasurable.
For me, wearing a panty girdle out on a date gave me a real strange feeling of power - a feeling of being invulnerable, in control, and yet not actually responsible for sex not happening. I could actually take the girdle off and have sex (as I did later on), but unless *I* took the initiative and broke the sacred girdle seal (something boys were NOT supposed to know was possible), sex could not happen and it would not be my fault that it didn't (you can't blame me).
From Virginian:
Did a girdle ever actually save you from an over-eager boyfriend, or was that just an accepted myth which allowed both parties a face-saving draw?
From Susan B:
I don't think that I ever had an over-eager boyfriend like that. All of the ones that I had known long enough and that I liked well enough for them to be touching me under my skirt were not really that type. Sure, I ran into some that seemed to shift into warp drive on the second or third date, but I always parted company with those guys long before we got to a point where a girdle and the force of my will were the only things protecting me from certain sex.
I really don't think it would have been possible for a boy to pressure me into having sex (short of putting a gun to my head) if I did not want to. But having the girdle take the blame for us not having sex was just a lot easier for both of us to deal with. I later found a girdle especially comforting on a date, mostly as a gentle but insistent reminder. A reminder at times when I was hot and really wanting to DO IT at the moment, but had not yet arrived at the solemn, conscious, and deliberate decision (under cooler circumstances) to DO IT, and made the appropriate preparations for DOING IT, that I was not yet ready to take that step. A panty girdle did serve me well in that capacity the few times when I was actually ready to throw caution to the wind in the heat of passion and jump his bones.
As it turned out, my wearing a girdle actually had more to do with me having sex than not. I attracted and then er... well... entrapped the high school boy who was to become my first true love ^tm by wearing a girdle. And, ten years later, I unexpectedly sparked new and intense interest in a man that I had been casually dating for a while when he discovered I was wearing a girdle (actually an all-in-one) under a clingy knit dress at the wedding of one of his friends. Up until then, he had not shown much serious interest in me, and was dating a lot of other women besides me, and was hanging out a lot with a bunch of his female chums from college (beautiful AND single) all the time.
I was really frustrated and depressed about this because I really liked him a lot and (desperately?) wanted the relationship to progress (I know, I know... always wants what it looks like she is not gonna be able to get). But while I had not completely given up, I was no longer very hopeful, and had resigned myself to being just one of the "many." But that all changed that afternoon and he then started to pay a lot more attention to me (finally beginning to see what a fine catch I was, after all, I like to think :-). Pretty soon I was his "best girl" as my grandfather used to say, and a year or so later we were married.
From Suzanne:
I agree profoundly with what Susan has written about the way in which wearing a girdle on a date gave a girl control over the development of sexual interactions. It wasn't precisely a chastity belt so much as a welcome barrier. They could indeed be taken off, but not without the full and clear co-operation of the young woman wearing them. And, as I have written earlier, and as Susan has written, a girdle could in fact increase the level of excitement on a date, partly because of the tactile stimulation they provided and partly because the protection they provided took away a good deal of the fear element that was often very inhibiting (fear that a young man might want to pressure you into doing more than you wanted).
And they did work to keep a young lady in line to a certain degree, because taking one off was an awkward process, particularly in an automobile. And the combination of the indecorousness and inconvenience made her hesitate to some degree at least. Mothers knew this. And they also knew that they weren't foolproof. But most girls of the pre-sexual revolution days also appreciated that these garments did protect their own control over the sexual situation, even if they didn't always protect virginity.
Girdles also protected you against pinchers. A jerk who tried to pinch you in some crowded place would find that his violating fingers would simply slide, catching onto nothing. I'll have to think of other ways in which girdles have protected me. None come to mind immediately. But I will say that they have always given me a sense of personal confidence, a kind of psychological armor, if you will.
From Susan B:
Suzanne's remarks about girdles intensifying our pleasure while protecting our virginity are startlingly precise and exactly on target. I have some powerful and complex memories and feelings about that that I can't quite seem to crystallize into words just now. I will think about and try to write about it next time.
What I found most "exciting" was your comments about finding that wearing a tight girdle was... er... stimulating back when you were dating. I, too, found them so, and still do. And as I mentioned before, your observations about this subject were right on target. I, too, was in a state of sexual arousal on most dates and I found that a tight panty girdle intensified this arousal greatly. I'll go a step further and say that in particular, for me, it was the pressure of the crotch of a tight panty girdle against my genitals, with everything snug and sleek and tight that most intensified the pleasure. The overall tightness of the girdle was a much smaller, although not insignificant, factor in this, but I think that played more to my desire to be sleek and shapely and attractive.
No doubt part of this was purely psychological, but there was also, most definitely, a direct cause and effect relationship between how tight my girdle fit up against my crotch and how elevated my state of arousal was (I have experimental proof of this...) And this was even before my boyfriend arrived to pick me up for the date! I can remember preparing for a date with a boyfriend I cared a lot about or for a date with a newer guy I was hoping to impress. I was in pantyhose at that time, but they were so flimsy then that they could hardly be felt when I had them on. But as I pulled up the girdle and its crotch met mine, a wave of tingles would wash over my body, setting everything on edge. As I pulled it up higher and set its waistband in place, the increased pressure would set off another wave.
I was always very meticulous about getting everything situated just exactly right - the center seam of my pantyhose as well as the girdle (if it had one) had to be in the exact center, the material of the girdle had to be stretched evenly all over, the leg bands of the girdle had to be exactly even and in the right place, and the crotch of the girdle had to be up all of the way, in the correct place, and TIGHT (which always affected the other things - a new girdle was always selected and tried on with this in mind before purchase). During the course of the evening, things would invariably shift around a little due to the friction with my dress or skirt (I never wore slips) as I sat or moved around, but the crotch usually stayed tight.
So by the time the girdle was on and adjusted just so (my sister would watch me do this some times and just shake her head - boy! if she only knew), I was already cranked up a couple of notches. The anticipation of spending the evening with a beloved (?) boyfriend (even before I was sexually active) or of getting to know a new boy only served to increase the tension. The sound of the doorbell at the appointed time (especially after hearing the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway) would always send a shot of adrenaline coursing through me. As I descended the stairs and my date was making small talk with Dad, I was usually in a some kinda state. I often worried if Mom or Dad could sense this, but no one ever said anything. Only one boyfriend was able to tell, and he was my favorite (for that and other reasons) until I met my husband.
When preparing for these same kinds of dates but wearing pants or shorts and no girdle (I hate, and always have, VPL and Visible Girdle Lines on my butt, or really, anywhere else), there was the same slightly giddy anticipation, but without the tight girdle, there was no physical stimulation, and therefore no synergy. When preparing for other dates, the girdle worked its same magic, but the lack of psychological influence served to keep things under control.
Looking back at it, I am amazed that I was able to hold on to my virginity as long as I did. There were a couple of nights that, as we left the house, I found myself wanting to tear his clothes off and get it on (over with?) as soon as we could find a place to do it. I actually seriously considered this plan of action a few times and found my self trying to decide if I thought I could handle whatever guilt/shame/risk/emotional consequences that might come of it. As it was, I usually spent the entire evening in a deliciously heightened state of arousal no matter what the activity. On dates in which we engaged in some necking and petting (making out was our catch-all term), this base level got cranked up a few notches more and I often spent what seemed like hours running right along the edge and sometimes teetering on that knife-edged brink. Then one time I went over.
[Fear not! I managed to "wait" until I had decided that positively I was going to do it and had the time to plan things out properly. I then gave myself completely to that favorite boyfriend, and he to me, and never, even for a minute, have I ever regretted it.]
There were a couple of boys that I dated in high school and one in particular (my fave) that really liked rubbing and massaging my legs and would do it for hours. For most of them I was never sure if it was the pantyhose, my legs, or just the prospect and fervent hope of getting a lot further than they had gotten thus far. But for that one guy, I knew. He was a real leg-man (a good thing for me) and had a thing for nylon and Lycra as well. Once he reached the girdle, it actually seemed to turn him on as much as it did me (Duh! I guess I was kinda naive back then). I really liked this guy a lot (loved?) and we made out a lot, and over time, he became very skillful. But I was always careful to limit the time I let him rub my girdled crotch so that things did not get out of hand.
But one night, I was wearing my tightest girdle and was therefore already wound a notch or two higher than usual. School was just out for the summer, we had seen a good movie, eaten a good meal, and were making out as usual. The wind was just the right temperature and was blowing the fragrant smells of summer softly, and the radio was quietly playing just the right instrumentals. All was right with the world. So as my tension built, I let it go where it would. I intentionally, but unconsciously, relinquished control and let his hands go where they would and for as long as they liked.
Slowly I became aware of where I was headed and then suddenly realized that I was already WAY down that path. I let myself be swept up in it and was carried right over the edge and into a thunderous orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on. As it slowly subsided, I was exhausted and on the verge of tears, It felt so good. Amazingly, he picked that moment to tell me how beautiful I was and how great my legs and ass were, how good I looked and felt in pantyhose and a girdle, and how much he loved me. I just melted.
He could have had me right then and there. I'd have given him one of my kidneys, if he'd wanted it. But then my mind cleared a little and I was suddenly aware that SEX was possibly imminent and there was a little panic far away that was rushing up to wake me up out of my reverie and smite me back into my goodie-goodie reality. But just then, after he must have read my mind (or the increasing turmoil on my face), he said "You don't know how much I want to make love to you right this minute (GULP! That approaching panic engaged the warp engines), but this is neither the time nor the place - I want it to be on your terms, if and when you are ready." Then he kissed me. The approaching panic evaporated with a soft pop. All was once again right with the world. I led his hand back down to my crotch and showed him just exactly how to rub it the very best way. He obliged and soon I was off again into Lala Land.
This, we indulged in from time to time, with me almost always in a girdle. Later, after I finally seduced him (I was wearing the panty girdle he liked to see me wear the most that day), we still engaged in making out and petting and then rubbing my girdled crotch to an orgasm when we were not able to make love.
So you see, for me, there are some very powerful connections between a panty girdle tight against my crotch and sex and sexual pleasure. There are likely several additional reasons for this, not the least of which is that I was wearing a panty girdle, with its crotch up snug and tight against me, the very first time I ever brought myself to an orgasm (or even really realized that such a thing was possible). This a couple of years before that night I let Mike do it for me, and a girdle always made it easier and faster (now there's a concept for the 90s) to get myself off.
Teenage boys thought that the 'seal' of a panty girdle was unbreakable. We teenage girls knew better, and my grandmother knew better. When my mother was a teenager (c. 1950) she was required to dress for dates in a panty girdle, over which was an all in one, and over that, a waist cincher. In such clothing, needless to say, it is impossible to undress to have sex and reassemble -- which, of course, was the idea.
By the time the mid-70s came around and it was my turn to experiment with boys, dates, etc... I dressed in the same way, as shown to me by my grandmother, in a side zip panty girdle (Like Susan B. I always wore my tightest such for stimulation on a date), a front hook all in one, and a back fastening waist cincher, this last item usually requiring the assistance of a second person to get into and out of. Unlike my mother, though, I was not required to dress this way, but did so voluntarily because I was afraid of things getting out of hand which could result in my getting pregnant.
When my future husband succeeded in persuading me to take my dress off on a date, only to discover that I was wearing a panty girdle, an all in one and a waist cincher which prevented him from getting at what he really wanted, he stared and said "Marcia, I love how you dress. Don't ever change." And with that, we had a half hour of mutual fun and games -- fun because it was fun without fear.
This outfit has tremendous sexual symbolism for him, and every year on our anniversary or when I want to get him in a very romantic mood I'll wear what we affectionately call "my body armor" on a date and at bedtime I'll ask for his "help in getting me out of it."
Of course such garments have their downside. While three piece body armor is efficient at keeping intruders out, it's also efficient at preventing necessary bodily eliminations. One must be very moderate in eating and especially drinking on the day of a date wearing this outfit. It also limits the duration of the date, which Grandma saw as an advantage -- less time that "something you don't want to have happen might happen."
Anyone else here ever wear, or been stopped by, multiple foundations?
From Diana:
It sounds to me that it would have been both more convenient and comfortable to wear a chastity belt.
But a seriously...
Having grown up in the post-girdle era but having chosen nevertheless to wear them out of choice and as part of wearing retro styles generally, I cannot see why the mothers of the various posters ever came to view the girdle as a "protection". I agree that panty girdles, especially the heavy, long leg, zippered models could perform this task, but from what I've been told, panty girdles only became popular and widely worn during the sixties, Before, women almost universally wore open girdles, which can't offer much protection.
From Raquel:
Two human beings determined to have sex will chew their way through brick walls to do it -- I doubt if a panty girdle would act as a effective shield.
In her 1972 novel, Sheila Levine Is Dead and Living In New York, Gail Parent seems to agree with Raquel. The heroine is most definitely not in the mood for love, but her date's boorish persistence overwhelms whatever defenses she has at hand:
Do you have any idea what it's like sitting on a bed with a virtual stranger whose teeth are bad and listening to fucking? All those naughty sounds falling on virgin ears. What the hell do you talk about? "So, Will, tell me all about your major," and from across the room we'd hear, "Steve, don't, that hurts."
"Diane, come on, roll over on your side."
"Do you like Bergman? I think Bergman is a genius, don't you, Will?"
Will was quiet and sneaky. Several hundred times he tried to touch me you know where. I wriggled away. He wriggled toward me. There's not much wriggling you can do in a single bed. The hand tried to touch me. I moved the hand. The hand came back. His aim was pretty good, considering the room was pitch black. I was scared. It's not that I was sexually naive. I spent a summer being a drama counselor at Cantor's Hotel in the Catskills. Oh, the goings-on. I.ook, I spent a lot of nights heavy petting, okay? In high school, I necked for hours. The boy and I both went home with rashes, but this was different.
At first we were just sitting on the bed. Then Will caught me off-balance, and we were lying on the bed. I remember I was lying there in a hot red wool dress.
"So, Will, where you from?" I removed his hand.
And from across the room, "Steve, wait, let me put the pillow under me."
"Albany." The hand was back.
"Albany, that's great. One of the girls on my floor is from Albany. Rose Morrison." I removed his hand.
"I don't know a Rose Morrison," The hand was back.
Then Will got my girdle off. I know what you're thinking. How in the hell did Will get my girdle off if I didn't want him to take it off in the first place? Persistence, that's how. Little by little he rolled it down. God, it felt good to get out of that itchy thing. Yeah, I wanted it off. Let me tell you, a panty girdle is not necesarily a good chastity belt.
The girdle unrolled and off (it caught on my leg three times; the whole project took him more than half an hour), Will got up and went to the bathroom. You know how appetizing that is before sex? I had to go, too, only I was too embarrassed.
"Come on, Sheila, darling, go to the bathroom before we get in the car."
"I don't have to go."
"It's a long ride to Grandma's. You'll be sorry."
I wouldn't let him take my dress off. I held onto it like there's some law someplace that says if you do it in a hot wool dress, it doesn't count.
My hand got tired moving his hand. My mouth got tired talking. I couldn't keep up the small talk, and he couldn't keep down his desire to do what his roommate was doing.
So, finally, as the sun was beginning to rise, I, Sheila Levine, let Will Fisher touch me you know where and he did you know what. Got it up there, didn't you, Will?
So big deal. It hurt. No tiny spot of virgin blood on his madras spread or anything. So now I couldn't be sacrificed to the gods. So I was lucky that I didn't have a Will Fisher, Jr., considering neither of us bothered to stop his sperm from fertilizing my egg.
Ah, yes... who can forget the romantic novels of the 70's?
From Lillian:
Some boys seemed to be very expert in assessing what one's underpinnings were. For the right boy I didn't mind his hand slipping down over my derriere when dancing in a dark corner. When necking (attention above the clavicles only) led to petting (hands busy above the waist) and heavy petting (exploration under one's skirt) panty girdles really did offer at least minimal final protection to virtue.
From Ruth:
One amusing thing did happen when one of my suitemates borrowed a girdle from my roommate. She normally did not wear a girdle but had a date with a guy that was considered "Fast" and wanted to have what she called a "Chastity Belt" on when she went out with him. So my roommate loaned her the strongest, smallest size Playtex girdle she had. We still don't know, more than 30 years later, what happened to that girdle. The only answer that came from the suite mate was, "It got lost." He must have been some guy! Most guys considered girdles an impediment, it seemed. The boy I was dating and who became my husband did not. In fact, just the opposite.
From Kaycee:
Enjoyed the discussion on panty girdles as chastity belts; they certainly put control in the girl's hands.
However, I was surprised nobody brought up the snap-crotch panty girdle, which was big in the '50s. Though it was developed for more pedestrian functions, it made heavy petting an even more erotic adventure -- and, when I wore it, at least, was a signal to my steady that access was granted!
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Last updated August 1, 1998