Back in those heady days of three weeks ago when I was unemployed, I put on and wear the same clothes for the whole day. A radical concept, I know, but it worked for me. I never changed out of school uniform when I came home in my childhood, because what need did I have to change, were I already wearing clothes? The same philosophy followed me through Life, only whereas once I was wearing a white shirt and dodgy grey trousers, now it's one of my hilarious T-shirts and scrappy blue Chinos, or something similar.
Until I started work. Now I'm wearing a selection of casual shirts and trousers which range in exciting colours from beige to more beige, stretching to the giddy heights of black at certain points. Good (well, less bad) as I may look in a shirt (even if the fact that I'm still a bit porky is more than evident), it's not something I want to rock at home. I have various shirts, and by and large they're comfortable beasts (ref: the one I wore to Eroticon; sub ref: the one I wore to my first Erotic Meet), but some of them - including my old school shirt - are a little constricting, and after a day or so of having been hung around my odd frame, a little more than scratchy. By the time I get home, my one desire is to cast off the self-imposed shackles of a day, and throw on the T-shirt of liberation, giving my body the chance to move.
But I don't, because frankly I can't be bothered.
What I do is put on my pyjamas. This is odd, because I don't wear these for much else. I sleep naked, usually, and if it's really cold I'll keep my T-shirt on or something. Pyjamas are there as an emergency standby, which I use for holidays, costumes, special events and that rare occasion where I have a shower at any point before the hour preceding bed. But over the past week I've taken to changing straight from clothed self to pyjama-clad self at nine o'clock (or thereabouts, it's not like I time it). Why? Well, it's easy. They're light and comfortable and you don't even need to bother with underwear, so I have that short window of full-frontal nudity while I switch outfits; a bit like Cutie Honey, only not as heroic. Or maybe more so.
Anyway, my pyjamas have another benefit: there is a large convenience hole right in front of my crotch (deliberately so; it's not like my UNUSUALLY LARGE PENIS ripped a hole in it or something). This makes it less convenient if I get an erection, but on account of the fact that I rarely venture out of my room in my pyjamas then it in fact reverses that effect - a testament to the laziness of ILB, perhaps, evident insofar as this renders it possible for me to masturbate while still wearing what is effectively a full set of clothes - read as: "while my legs are still warm." And so, wonder of wonders, joy of joys, I am finding it increasingly easy to slip back into ILB mode when I re-enter my hallowed domain, through the simple expedient of slipping into something a little more comfortable and, dare I say it, a lot more sexy.
And, of course, it makes the semen easier to clean up, as well. Except for last night. Last night I took a nap covered in my own cum.