The Legs Paradox
Probably all hetero men like to look at women’s legs. Many use the feminine shapeliness of the legs as an important criterion of whom they will seriously try for. Contrariwise, for many men, thick legs are a major turn-off in themselves, even if the woman is not notably overweight in the usual other places.
So thoroughly do we take this for granted that we do not usually reflect on how little the legs mean to us if we finally get her to bed. There is a certain amount of stroking, to be sure, but less than the initial importance of the legs might suggest. If the lady is moving around the bedroom, we admire her legs to be sure, but then in the same way as we admired them on the street. We do not, on the whole, actually do much with them. And certainly not below the thighs, which we treat as foreplay to the pussy.
In part this is, of course, because most of the legs do not contain any particular hot-buttons. Although there exist toe-suckers and those who like their toes sucked, the lower legs in particular are hardly a trigger for either party – even though the calves may have been important in the initial impression. We read in books that the ankles were quite erotic to the Victorian man, but then how much time did he devote to them in bed? Geometry plays some role; when you are lying down, the lower legs are simply a little distant from the rest of the main theatre of love, you need to sit up, wriggle down or invert.
A solution to the paradox may be that beautiful legs are a bit less to do with sex per se than we might think. What they are to do with is beauty, and beauty is not actually the same thing as sex. There is an overlap, of course, but the relationship is actually quite complex. As I suggested in connection with watching slender Chinese newlyweds pose for the cameras, beauty may be a resource, and what men are actually doing when they admire legs on the street is pining for access to beauty, in and for itself, because beauty is usually something they do not have themselves. The drive to possess beauty, in whatever sense of the word, or admire it, is then sui generis, something irreducible, it just is.
In: BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, Fine Feathers