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I guess the army higher ups thought having our ding-dongs hanging out after we shifted back would make us feel vulnerable. Like we give a shit who sees us naked.
DO IT! My ovaries shout. They hold up a sign that reads: GET THE DICK.
She flashes me the kind of smile that lights up a room, and my heart tumbles off the cliff into Sadieland.
“I’m wearing...shapewear.” His brows knit together, and he slips his hands under my dress, where he encounters what I’ve been trying to tell him about. “What is this?” he growls, sliding his hand along the tight bodysuit, trying to find my skin. “It’s like armor.” “Yep. Girl armor. Guys wear it too. I think Scott has some although he’d never admit it.” “Fuck.” His hand goes between my legs, where the bodysuit has made me smooth and sexless as a Barbie doll. “It’s a fucking chastity belt.” I let out a hysterical giggle. “Yes.” His laugh is pained.
