Passion-killers, Now there’s a dependable, no-nonsense word for you. A girl always knew where she stood in a pair of PKs. They were the Victorian era’s contribution to the untouched-up pussy and the ungrouped groin. Passion-killers. They just don’t make knickers like they used to, that’s for sure. Who says there’s no such thing as Progress?
Zara is the Modern Miss Erotic Model shown here, delivering the old one-two biffzapp to any stray passion she might have throbbing away inside her. Those ball busting bloomers of yesteryear didn’t win any rivers of rapture from her. “Look pretty silly under my new skirts.” she commented. “Wouldn’t fancy them under my jeans either. Still, they’d be nice and snug in winter. I suppose. And the material feels sort of. . .pampering. But they’re so old-fashioned. . .”
Old-fashioned they may be, but there’s still some life left in their erotic appeal. Many of our older readers will know all about them. They’ll recall how many a sneaky seduction limped off into the sunset at the touch of those elasticated hems, clasped firmly around feminine flanks. Grandma didn’t have no truck with those skimpy, low-riding, hip-hugging bikini briefs you can find keeping modern pussies cozy, and warm, if you’re lucky. Grandma had different ideas.
Grandma wasn’t about to jump into bed with the first Tall Dark and Handsome sly bastard who sneaked his hand along her thigh. In a pair of passion-killers, faint chance of that. Whether your average Grandma thought this was a smashing idea or not, History does not record. But they bred like rabbits back there in Victorian times, so many. . .
For the benefit of younger readers, we should make it quite clear that passion-killers are not pills you can take to shift your immortal instincts into Neutral. Nor are they frenzied, drug-crazed assassins. Nor does the term refer to that tasty piece up the road who turns you on with her eyes-only to turn you off with a knee to nether regions. Passion killers is knickers, young men. Dreadnought drawers from the dim past, complete with elasticated hems that might just as well have had He Shall Not Pass embroidered into them.
“My mum had a pair of these once.” reminisced Zara. “I used to see them on our clothes line. I think some pantie-pincher made off with them in the end, along with a couple of her bras and girdles. Terrible fuss there was. I think she fancied herself in them. I wouldn’t reckon my Dad was put out about it though. If you ask me, I reckon it might have been him that made off with them in the first place. . . .”