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Thong Prison

Exposing my involuntary thong traumas


Photos by Andrea Takemoto


I gave up thongs because they simply are tortuous twot killers.

I'm currently having a funeral for my #thongs. I mean… all the panties I couldn’t get rid of since  sophomore year of college when I received my first large lump sum of student refund money and had a damn shopping spree in #VictoriaSecret. There’s freedom in those #panties, man. I just couldn’t rid them. Nor could I rid the ones  I got in high school from Justice. Judge me if you want, but this little tween store was the come up. Plus, I got a serious kick out of being able to fit a size 14/16 in girls. The deal was 6 for $24. That’s one more than the 5 for $25 at Vicky Secrets. This was before that student refund budget, of course. Any who, I’m pretty attached to my panties and not sure why. I recently learned my mom has this same horder-like trait with panties too. So we’ll just go ahead and say it’s hereditary. But today, February 26, 2018, I needed the damn space. My panty drawer is overflowing with shit I can’t even or just shouldn’t even wear anymore. More specifically, I had to give up those thongs. I stopped wearing them like four years ago. I want to believe that I am not the only girl who’s experienced some of these horrid issues I am about to share. I gave up thongs because they simply are tortuous twot killers. 

Sliding into a thong fresh out the shower; you just feel so #sexy, so liberated. It enhances your volume and acts as an instant butt lift somehow. Soon, you find yourself doing double takes, slick posing like a VS model. You might even be encouraged to take a couple mirror pics, because you feel you look so DAMN BAD! And girl, you do! WORK! OAAAWWW! After spending way too much time prancing around in your thong, you rush to get dressed, put on your face, style your hair and you’re out. The first defense of wearing a thong is sitting down in that driver seat to get to your destination. Your lady parts are jammed. smushed, smothered, all of the above. The thong is now cutting into one of your lips  and your ass immediately feels like you forgot to clean it just 40 minutes ago. Ahhh hell nah! Hurry up, get to your destination so you can readjust this shit. 

Sike! No time to readjust for whatever reason and just get use to that thing clinging to you like glue. Time goes on, and you’re now forced to try different posture techniques, hoping your vag will release some of that material. Nope! Okay so then you stand up, fake stretch, and act like you're adjusting your pants/skirt, but in actuality, you're hoping your thong releases itself a bit and falls back into its rightful place. It does momentarily, but not for long. Fuck it! Lets pay the little ladies room a visit. Maybe if you release a little water weight your thong will stop irritating you so. You pull your thong down to realize you started discharging. ICK! There’s literally no room for your vag to be trying to clean itself when there’s really no where for it to go but a damn string. Really?! Wipe it up, keep it moving. Come the end of the day you’re experiencing sore chaffing all around this very sensitive area. Not cool. A few days later, you’ll find that you’ve developed ingrown hairs because the material of the thong kept rubbing up against you the wrong way, even more not cool. And remind me why do we do this to ourselves? Just so that we can appease perverted wondering eyes by having no panty line? Why the fuck are you looking at my #ass anyway! 


I know there are a good portion women who actually ONLY wear thongs, and you know what? Kudos to you and your p***y power! My little lady doesn’t have that strength. I got tired of the sore crotch, itchy crotch, the discomfort, the surprise yeast rolls. I wasn’t ready for fucking dinner. I would much rather go commando, seamless, or granny panties, these all can be sexy too ya know! 


Like I said, I haven’t wore a thong in like 4 years, but for some reason, I had dozens I had been holding on to. But for what? I really don’t know. Maybe I thought my vag would finally man up and be able to handle it. Or maybe I was saving them for future sexy nights. Or maybe I thought I would lose a little weight around my hips and they would fit looser. Bottom line was,  I wasn’t about to go up to a size medium just for a thong (nothing wrong with mediums, its just a mental thing having to go up a size). I would rather just be able to fit the ones I had collected throughout the years or just rid myself of thongs period. I was proud of my collection! Like, they are apart of my history. Maybe I could curate a thong exhibit and give them each a story. They seriously have a life of their own - A life of involuntary rape, now that I think of it. So instead of an exhibit, maybe like a thong prison, where I expose these thongs of their crimes and violations! Wouldn’t you care to know…





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