There's one item of clothing I find sexy above all other items of clothing. Above crotchless panties, from which his penis peeps like a shy mole. Above leather pants that hug that ass the way I would, if the ass in question was Armie Hammer's. Above tight shirts that give men hips; above denim in all its forms (from Heinous Hasselhoff to the Fassbender Fall-Off*); above vests that sprout arms like bulldozers.
Yes, this item of clothing beats all of those things, for me. It never fails to stir my loins, no matter who it's on - and it does so for one very particular reason:
You can pretty much always see a hint of penis, underneath a pair of sweatpants.
Which is why sweatpants are my sexiest item of clothing.
Because you totally can, okay? It happens all the time, in even the tamest of places. You're there safely watching Heroes. It's PG-13. No one's going to start whipping out their boobs or having sex with someone's face. It's not True Blood, so you think you're safe.
Or at least, you are until Sylar puts on sweatpants and starts running. And then all you can see are the mesmerising kaleidscope of shapes, swirling around between his legs. Is that a fold of cotton? Did some jersey-like material just shift in a certain way? Perhaps his keys are in the pocket of these sweatpants, and when he runs they turn into a thick, rounded oblong.
Or maybe that's just his dick. It's his dick, all right? What you are now looking at is Zachary Quinto running down a hill, while his dick whaps back and forth against material so thin it's practically clingfilm.
And THAT is why sweatpants are awesome. It's like the male equivalent of a skirt blowing up in a strong gale. You try to prevent it from happening. Maybe you wear seventeen pairs of underpants, and strap your dick to your leg using sellotape. But all to no avail, because at some point you're going to have to run for that bus or bend a certain way or maybe a gust of wind will shove really hard against you and then BAM.
A million chicks looking at your dick.
And that's not even the best thing about sweatpants. Oh no no no. No, the best thing about sweatpants is that when your best bud Harmie Ammer** gives you a "friendly" cuddle, and then steps away - you can totally see his erection. Sweatpants are like the Erection Litmus Test. They're some kind of foolproof detector of erections, and more than that:
Erections look totally fooking orsum underneath them. I swear to God, you could have a penis the size of a raisin and it would still look like the almighty fist of Thor beneath that thin, ever so slightly clingy, always shifting material. My mouth waters just at the thought of a cock beneath sweatpants; my books are filled with odes to them...
Oh, sweatpants. May you ever shine your holy light, on a million celebrity penises.
*Here is the Fassbender Fall-Off, illustrated for your pleasure:
**Man, Armie Hammer's name is really hard to ineptly disguise.
P.S. My latest novella, a delicious concoction of the apocalypse, werewolves, massive hunky guys and forbidden sexytimes is out tomorrow over at Ellora's Cave. Hooray! If you fancy checking it out, you can find it here:
And also, my new and very mysterious publisher, Mischief, released a few erotic anthologies today. If you fancy seeing me in a couple of them (along with such amazing talent as Justine Elyot and Rachel Kramer Bussel) you can find them here:
Or if you're in the US, here: