School Girls and Super Girls: Dress Up


When I was in my last relationship, at about the age of 20, I decided that I just wasn’t sexy. I was many other things – funny, smart, musical – but sexy just was not one of them. I didn’t have a nice face and I didn’t have a hot body and I wasn’t graceful or cute or beautiful. I didn’t really mind this once I’d decided it, I’d leave the other girls to be attractive and I’d just get on with life, not really considering that looking good was something I would ever do. I also decided that being hot was a low-rent thing. Something my mother deemed ridiculous and was frowned upon when you were to be taken seriously in life. As a consequence I wouldn’t buy really nice underwear and I certainly never even entertained the idea of dressing up for my boyfriend, or anyone for that matter. I would dress for comfort over style, always.

I still don’t 100% believe that I’m sexy, but I’ve come to the conclusion that feeling attractive and feeling seductive, especially for one person in particular, is a lot of fun. I had always thought that feeling attractive and sexy was about getting attention from lots of men, but now I realise that you can be attractive and sexy entirely for yourself, and it only takes one person who thinks you look pretty damn good and the whole thing makes a lot of sense. Obviously I’m talking about Mortimer here; I have dressed up for him officially on two separate occasions, and dress up for him informally a lot of the time. By that I mean I buy adventurous underwear and surprise him with it, or choose a dress I know he likes when we go out together. Today, however, I’ll be telling you about the two official occasions, one of which was a sort of ritualistic coming of age moment for me, and the other for Mortimer’s birthday.

One evening when I was enjoying trying on various pieces from my underwear collection and sending photos to Mortimer, I came across an old school skirt and a white shirt that I owned. I’d never gone in for the schoolgirl thing previously, but being with Mortimer I was beginning to understand why men found it so attractive. So far in our relationship I’d gone from being an innocent, naive, guilt-ridden and self-conscious girl to becoming a sexual, sensuous woman. I know that one of the things that drew Mortimer towards me was that he felt nobody had unlocked my full potential and that I needed to be taught a few things about myself and my body. With that attraction in mind, I thought he’d probably enjoy the schoolgirl look. Besides, I thought as I started pulling on the crisp white shirt tied in a knot under my breasts, wouldn’t your 16 year old self be proud of you right now? Shocked but ultimately in awe that such an awkward, sad, geeky little thing would turn into such a siren? I looked at myself in the mirror and thought ‘fuck yes, you look pretty good’. Well done me. I sent Mortimer a photo and he immediately requested that I pack the outfit into a bag and to bring it next time I stayed over.

I did as I was told (and a little extra after seeing some excellent knee-high socks in a shop window during the week) and next time I stayed at Mortimer’s I put the outfit on. I was ridiculously nervous – what if the photo (taken in good lighting and from a flattering angle) wasn’t particularly representative of what he was about to see? What if he was disappointed? What if, actually, he said take it off, you look stupid? I can tell you, Dear Reader, none of these things happened. In fact, what happened was that I was grabbed immediately and pressed firmly against the erection fighting against his jeans. My hair was in bunches which he roughly took hold of, pulling my head back so that he could bury his face in my neck. He then grabbed his camera from his desk and sat down in his chair and told me to dance for him (I dance a lot for Mortimer). I put on ‘Knee Socks’ by the Arctic Monkeys (put it on now while you read this) and danced away while Mortimer took photos. We proceeded to ruin the outfit completely; the neat bunches were long forgotten and the skirt has had to go through several washes. I imagined the face of my 16 year old self, outwardly appalled but inwardly applauding and totally turned on. I saw her there, so terrified by her sexuality and haunted by terrible feelings of guilt at being turned on and I imagined I was giving her hope. By the end I was privately celebrating with that girl, and privately bidding her farewell. Your time is over now, little one.

The second formal dressing up occasion was for Mortimer’s birthday. I spent a long time pondering over what to get him, and finally decided to wrap up myself as one of his favourite things: Superman. I was not going to dress up as a man for his birthday, but the general notion was that I hoped he would find it hot to see his hero and his girlfriend join forces in the guise of Supergirl. Mortimer is a fan, an admirer, an avid follower and worshipper of the Man of Steel. I knew that I couldn’t just get an outfit off the internet – I don’t know if you’ve looked up Supergirl costumes, but they’re mostly ridiculously cheap looking and/or just incorrect. Haven’t the makers of sexy Supergirl costumes READ any comic books?

The answer, inevitably, is no. I was going to have to make my own. I went full Helen Slater and decided on red cape, boots, inappropriately short skirt and yellow belt and, of course, the iconic blue top and S shield. I made a few modifications of my own and ripped the t-shirt off just underneath the shield so that you could just see the bottom of my breasts and my whole stomach. The skirt sat on my hips, I used red knee socks for boots and bought a large amount of satin-y material and tied it around my neck with a ribbon.

When it finally came to wearing it for Mortimer I was terrified. Not only was I going to dress up for him, which always gets me riled up, but it was in an outfit from an area he knew far more about than I did. I’d done a lot of research but, apart from looking hot, my main concern was WHAT IF I GOT THE COLOURS WRONG? What if the socks as boots weren’t quite good enough? Or will he notice that I didn’t put a hem on the cape? As I came out of the bathroom and stood in front of him I told him please, please not to laugh. All he said was ‘Oh I would NEVER laugh at you when you look like that’ with a grin on his face. Just that moment, the moment where weeks of research, sourcing and perfecting culminated in a smile from Mortimer, was one of the better moments of my life. After that, I felt hotter than I’ve ever felt. I thought, as I sat on top of Mortimer’s cock in my Supergirl tshirt, skirt, boots and cape, ‘you did good, kid’ and enjoyed my orgasm(s) all the more for it.

The Supergirl outfit now has a special box that sits in my bedroom. Every time I look at it, or come across the (slightly stained) white shirt in my wardrobe I feel hot. I’m reminded that however I feel when I wake up in the morning or however horrific I can look when I’m hungover or have a cold, putting the effort into looking good for yourself and for someone else is always worth it. Because, let’s face it, it’s nothing to do with having a good body or a perfect face, it’s about being the best version of your beautiful self and finding someone who enjoys you as much as you do.


Note: If you’d like any ideas for dressing up or help on where to shop and what to get, drop us an email at and we’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.