Velociworld

Bra Strap Chronicles

My clean buddy Eric the Blade posted on knives the other day. It was a poignant post, and generated many comments. Even Elisson weighed in, and I had him figured for an ice pick guy long ago.

Now, Eric and I go back a ways in regards to knives. To wit I consider him utterly fucking insane when he drinks and wields them, and I can recall him dragging me over a table in a motel room after Acidman's mom's funeral, and me stealing his Cold Steel and brandishing it against him, all after we had been seriously spree drinking at a, a, Houlihan's? I don't recall. An Establishment With Copious Liquors.

But that's just how boys play.

I loved that post of Eric's, but I kept thinking... some guys love knives because they are sharp, and deadly, and they take them in the woods, and kill and skin creatures with them, etc etc. Rites of Passage, Grandfather and Son, oh it is beautiful tear-jerking stuff.

They play Mumblypeg sumtimes, too.

That's all well and fine. But Velocitheory holds that the highest and best use of a knife is for the sensual removal of feminine undergarments. The cutting off of underwear, if you will.

Hear me out, and here they are, my blades:




By the way, two caveats:

1) please practice this with a willing partner, and

2) never cry when wielding a knife. It totally freaks your partner.

So...

Knife 1 is the Senator's WWII era Camillus M3 trench knife. Very useful if you are blind drunk, and happen upon a 70ish blowsy old broad who remembers when a real man could stick it to you! and then upchucks on your feet. That's a stretched out old brassiere, by the way, and I commend you for not slitting her throat after that. Because you ARE very ashamed. Hell, I'm ashamed for you.

Knife 2 is my Buck 6 inch fixed blade. It's for redneck hillbilly girls. Folding blades don't impress them. They need something formidable slitting their unmentionables as you coo the words they long to hear: Possum's Up! Sexually these are huge, I don't need to remind you. I've witnessed spontaneous ovulations from these. Unfortunately it's usually a sheep they are enwombed with. So we Move On.

Knife 3: my Gerber Gator. That is a sweet sweet piece of hardware. The girl who says Cut It Off With The Gator, Daddy, is a damned Florida fan, of course. But that's cool. It's why we like them. And where we like to forward those cellphone pics to Gator Father.

Not that I've ever done that. Yet.

Knife 4 is my standard Swiss Army knife. That's a boring, quotidian blade. We only use it for the mundane. Cousins, for instance. That's routine work, often, but I can attest the payoffs can be extreme. Totally. Talk to Mom after THAT one.

Knife 5? The little tiny thing? That's for Tinkerbell. I'm saving it for her. I haven't exactly worked out the thing, but I know she would be incredibly hot with her bra straps severed, while I whispered dirty shit in her little tiny ears. You know it too.

Have I neglected panties? Sorry. They yield as well, and the mewling is even better. Even better. But the brassiere, well, you really have something there. Ephemeral. Naughty. Totally fucking hot.

I really need a Paypal button for a legal defense, don't I? Please send monies to LEGALAGE.com. Attn: Dominatrix.

Nothing hotter than a bit of lingerie removal under role-playing duress. Barbie sez Cutting my bra off is hot!

Well, at least in my fevered world. And I like it here.