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I Seem to Only Like Cosplay For The Tights

I have no idea why, but I somehow never got into cosplay. You know, dressing up to the tee as your favorite superhero (but really superheroine) then meeting up with other nutjobs who do the same thing. THEN you act out role-play fights and the other shit they do in the cartoons and comics. There’s even a “crossplay” for those crossdressing as superheroes. Either way, it actually sounds good for shits and giggles.

Why, I’d happen to be the perfect candidate too. I spent at least eight hours a day during my whole youth watching nothing but cartoons. Those powerful, sexy men figures chasing evil villains in black around, sometimes getting captured or kidnapped. Then getting tightly bound in their skin-tight spandexy costumes and tights struggling to break free, unfortunately doing so. Essentially, they’re the precursor to bondage pornos yet just innocent enough to put on the tube for kids.

I’ll even go as far as to blame those cartoons for me tinkering around with a pantyhose fetish by first stealing my sister’s ballet dance tights, throwing some red knee-high socks (also hers) over them pretending they were boots and finally “cosplaying” like I was Wonder Woman. Of course, I’d also pretend that I was being kidnapped by tying up my legs with shoelaces, an ode to a later bondage fetish.

So today, I happen to stumble upon a few random images of a cute Wonder Woman clad in the red, blue and gold bustier-leotard thingy and shiny tights. It’s something about the combination of those thick Danskin tights, with a brilliant streak of light gleaming off of them, along with something tight and costumy/leotardy that spells instant hard-on thinking about those memories of my sister’s tights. Minus the sister of course.

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