Underwear Stories

Tighty-Whiteys Part 1

"Hey, Royce, you wanna go home with me this weekend?" he says as he barges into my dorm room, uninvited and unexpected, excited that the week is ending and it is a time to party.

His name is Aaron, a fellow dorm-mate at the university.

He is in his tighty-whiteys, a small rise is in the center of his cotton briefs, a wet spot in the center too, and he does not try to conceal it. He teases it as he stands in my doorway.

"So you wanna come," He says, "...to my home this weekend?"

"Your mom cooking some of her delicious food, I hope?"

"Naw, mom is going to be out of town with my grandma," he says, "it is just going to be my stepdad and older brother there this weekend."

I do not hesitate to answer but fire off an enthusiastic 'yes.' To be able to see his stepdad is enough to prompt a quick response.

Aaron adjusts the obvious bulge in his tighty-whiteys as he stands in the doorway of my room. I am sitting in my own bleached cotton briefs. I feel my own cock harden as I sit at my desk. I am busy studying for classes tomorrow, Friday. I do not reach for it, as it grows harder. I let my cock grow, feeling it strain against the fabric.

"Yeah, I'll go," I say.

I push my chair back from my pushed in position at the desk. My cock, obvious, is tented in my own tighty-whiteys. I poke out my equipment, proud, making sure he sees what I have to offer.

"I gotta take a piss," I say as I run into a gallop down the hallway to the john.

I bolt from my room.

"Hey, man, wait for me," Aaron says, "I gotta piss too."

We both run down the corridor to the restroom/shower-room at the end of the long dorm hallway.

As we both trot hurriedly to the john, there are other guys similarly attired as us in their underclothes in their rooms. Young men, who are unashamed of their unabashed manliness and primed to fuck if anyone, were to ask, they would gladly comply. All you have to do is ask.

We rush to the trough urinal at the end of the room, pull out our young virile cocks and commence to let the piss flow. An 'ahh' escapes both our lips as the pleasure of emptying our own bladder.

Relief.

"Damn, I needed that," I say, as I shake the piss-dew from my semi-hardened cock.

Aaron looks over at my exposed cock while I shake the last loose drops of piss from my prick and smile. Unconsciously he wipes his tongue across his lips, a sexual connotation, as I ever saw. Aaron's cock grows stiff as he finishes his own piss, not hurrying to tuck his cock back into his briefs, his shaven balls apparent, next to my fur-covered balls, as I glance over his way.

I tuck my cock back into my own briefs and walk out of the most favored room in the dormitory by us. It is the one place where seeing cock is guaranteed to happen.

Aaron does the same.

"I best get back to studying, I have a test, tomorrow." I say.

"Sure thing, we'll leave after our last class, tomorrow," he says.

Aaron takes off into a gant down the hallway, stopping in at another guy's room before eventually walking into it.

***

We arrive at Aaron's house as the waning hours of daylight disappear and the sun sets over the causeway that runs behind the childhood home of my friend. Aaron's stepdad is raking the yard, shirtless and in very short bulged shorts. The sweat has soaked the waistband, weighing them down revealing a hint of a white elasticized waistband, which is visible under his crotch-hugging package revealing shorts.

"Hey Daryl," Aaron yells out as he lifts himself out of his convertible and runs to greet his stepdad. They embrace and hug as if they are father and son but in truth, they are not.

I sit for a moment, gawking at them, taking in the awe-inspiring sight of Mr. Kilcrease as he brushes his rough calloused hands over his exposed bare defined muscular chest wiping the sweat from his light-haired body. His furry light blonde wisps of hair descend down to a thick treasure trail that descends under the band of what is his underwear, tight-whitey's like the one his stepson and I wear.

"Get out of the car, Royce," Aaron says, "Daryl wants to see you."

I am more than happy to see Aaron's stepdad, since my last visit home with him; Mr. Kilcrease has gotten a deeper tan, which highlights his fair hair and musculature. He is a man who takes care of himself in the gym and possibly the bedroom too.

Aaron strips off his own sweat soaked shirt and runs to the backyard leaving it on the front lawn.

I shake Mr. Kilcrease's hand and feel his strength surge through me as I respond accordingly to his greeting.

"Give me hug, man," Mr. Kilcrease says as he pulls me to his naked chest reeking of sweat.

I catch a whiff of a man drenched in labor and masculinity, I feel my cock stiffen in own cargo shorts as I am brought closer to the 'stepdaddy' I find so attractive.

"Whoa boy, "Mr. Kilcrease says as he feels my hard member brush against his own packed equipment in his shorts.

"Oops, sorry about that," I say, feigning embarrassment but not really.

"Not a problem, bud," He says, "At your age, I got hard when the wind would breeze over me."

"Thanks, sir," I say.

"Let's go see where Aaron took off to," he says.

We make our way to the back of the house, where Aaron went before I 'embarrassingly hugged' his stepdad.

I follow him and watch his ass sway seductively in his sweat soaked shorts, while I trail behind him like an obedient dog. My cock grows harder still as I watch him, leeringly, walk in front of me.

"You alright back there, son, "Mr. Kilcrease asks me, "aren't you hot in that t-shirt, I would be. Get comfortable, this is your home while you are here this weekend."

I pull my own sweaty shirt over my head. I am not as well developed muscularly as his son, Aaron. I am not weak, far from it, but I do not hit the gym, almost daily, as his stepson.

We walk around the side of the house to hear splashing in their in-ground pool that is directly behind their home.

"Boy, you couldn't wait, could you?" Mr. Kilcrease yells to Aaron as he swims about in the pool.

"No, sir," Aaron says, "I was sweating my ass off as we drove south on I-75, I couldn't wait to get home and get in the pool."

"I know what you mean, son," Mr. Kilcrease says, "It is damn hot; I am drenched in my own sweat."

Mr. Kilcrease drops his shorts and dives into the pool in his designer white tighty-whitey's, unencumbered by my presence, only concerned to cool off his heat intensified body from the humid Florida day.

He emerges in the pool, next to his stepson.

"You gonna join us sport or just gawk from the sidelines?" Mr. Kilcrease beckons from the backyard pool.

"Be right in, Mr. Kilcrease, "I respond accordingly.

I drop my own cargo shorts, revealing my hardened cock in my tighty-whiteys. Feigning behavior, I act as if I am unaware of my sexual organs hardness.

I dive into the pool.

Mr. Kilcrease does not bat an eye as I display my masculinity outwardly.

My erection is painfully obvious in my briefs.

We swim for an hour as the sun disappears completely from the sunshiny Gulf Coast side of Florida.

"Y'all guys hungry?" Mr. Kilcrease says, "My own stomach is grumbling."

Aaron and I both say a jubilant 'yes' I had not had anything since before noon when I grabbed a burger from the dining hall on campus.

Aaron's stepdad walks to the shallow end of the pool and makes his way up the steps of the pool. As he emerges, his white cotton briefs leave nothing to the imagination as his cock shines transparently through the wet fabric.

Mr. Kilcrease is quite well endowed and not ashamed of his manhood nor ashamed to be seen by his stepson or me, his soaked underwear leaves nothing to the imagination.

He walks to the outside showerhead, turns on the water, and adjusts the temperature to his desired setting. He stands under the spray of the water, letting it cover him; he drops his transparent water-soaked cotton briefs onto the tiles.

As the whitey's fall to the drain of the shower, Mr. Kilcrease cups his balls as he is being soaked down by the two parts hydrogen and single oxygen mixture. He brushes his blonde locks back on his head, his muscles accentuated at his movements. Occasionally, he reaches down between his legs and casually strokes his cock with the soapiness covering his body. He bends down, soaping the dark furred crevices of his ass, exposing his hole to me, as I am enticed by his display.

I stand motionless as he bathes himself in full view of his stepson and me.

Aaron watches me as I leer at his naked stepdad while he washes the pool's chlorine from his body. He says nothing as I am transfixed by his stepdad's nudity; he is watching me as intently as I am his stepdad.

Aaron's stepdad finishes his shower, reaches into an outdoor cabinet packed with fresh dry towels, gets one and commences to dry himself off. He pays special attention to his groin, drying his thick blonde pubes and moderately hairy chest. The man has no tan lines, all lightly browned by the Florida sun.

He turns to us, my mouth agape at his ease and sureness of being naked in the wide expanse of the night. I am in awe of him. His cock, semi-erect from his manipulations with the soap.

"You two know what you want for dinner," he says, "I am thinking pizza, how 'bout that?"

"Sounds fine to me," Aaron says, "whatever you want."

"What about you, Royce?" he asks me, "Pizza okay?"

"Sure," I say.

"Okay," he says, as he goes inside the house, towel draped over his shoulder, his cock, flopping back and forth, as his ass musculature is extenuated by his tight buttocks, unashamed of his personal endowments.

The man is proud. He should be.

I am proud for him.

***

Aaron and I walk into the house; towels wrapped around our waist covering our own nudity. We showered under the same outside shower, just as his stepdad did minutes earlier. Mr. Kilcrease is standing in the kitchen, in another pair of tighty-whiteys. A slight bulge rises up in them as he goes about ordering pizza from a local Italian restaurant on his cell phone. He does not seek cover or even act phased by his near nudity in front of me or his son.

"You feel better guys?" he asks us.

We both nod 'yes' as to his question.

"Did you bring your clothes in when you got here?" Mr. Kilcrease asks.

"Nope, let me go get them," Aaron says as he walks out the front door, towel still wrapped around his waist covering his privates from public view, "I'll get yours too, Royce."

"Okay," I say as I grab a seat in the kitchen where I can view Mr. Kilcrease, without obstructions.

Aaron's stepdad turns around, seductively fondling the front of his beliefs as he talks to me. His cock is stiffening from his play.

"I hope you like the pizza, I have ordered, a friend of mine, just opened his restaurant in downtown Sarasota," he said, "He is bringing a pie by here shortly."

"Okay," I say.

He rests his hand on the ridge created by his stiff cock, his fingers looped into the elastic waistband, not bothered by his show of equipment. He wants me to see what he has in his tighty-whiteys. I do.

My eyes are locked onto his crotch as he tests the lengths I am willing to respond to him. Is he seducing me?

I am still stunned at the casualness of this hot man I see before me, undeterred by his exposure to a virtual stranger.

"I am sure it will be good," I say, "there are better Italian restaurants here in Sarasota than Gainesville."

"I agree," he says, "the time I got one there, it tasted like flavorless tomato paste on a shingle. It was terrible. My friend's restaurant cranks out delicious Italian pies."

Aaron returns with our bags and plops them down on the kitchen tile floor. He drops his towel, not ashamed of his own nudity in front of his stepdad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a fresh pair of Fruit-of-the-Looms, he puts them on in full view of us. His cock, pulled and pushed into place, as any man does when he pulls on his underwear, grows somewhat from the adjustment.

"I thought your mom had brought you some better shorts, "he says, "Those are the cheap ones."

"I like these," Aaron says.

"Okay," his stepdad says perturbed.

He looks over at me.

"You best get rid of that wet towel, Royce, "Mr. Kilcrease says, "You will catch a cold."

I go to my own bag, dropping my towel, exposing my nude body to both of them, just as Aaron did and reach into my bag to retrieve a pair of Calvin's and put them on. I do not rush to get the skivvies on, I take my time.

Aaron's stepdad watches me as I slip on a fresh pair, intently staring at me as I drop the towel, dig for a new pair and then slide them up my legs over my slightly swelled cock.

I sit back on my stool.

"See, that is what you should be wearing," he says, "Calvin Klein's, they are made for a man, they shape and support you. Just like mine."

As Mr. Kilcrease says this, he poses causally proving what he said to be true about our shared underwear brand. His bulge is now more prominent and obvious as he demonstrates.

"Stand up, Royce," Mr. Kilcrease says, "let Aaron see how you look in your contoured Calvin's."

I stand; proudly presenting myself to be inspected by Mr. Kilcrease and Aaron.

I feel my own cock stir in its tight confines.

I stiffen to semi-hardness.

I do not hide it neither does Mr. Kilcrease.

We sit around the kitchen bar, waiting for the pizza to arrive. We are all attired in our cotton white underwear, talking unabated in almost full nudity.

When the need to adjust our equipment, for whatever reason happens, each of us reaches down to fondle ourselves when the need arises.

The door from the garage opens; it is Aaron's older brother, Ray, as he is home from work. He graduated from college last year; I met him on campus, before he graduated. He has been steadily looking for a job in his degree area since he finished.

Ray hugs his stepdad, as he walks in. I am re-introduced to him, my brief covered genitals and bareness does not seem to stir any ill-at-ease feelings in him. It is natural. This tight-whitey dress appears to be standard open attire from all the men in this home.

Ray goes to his room, only to return, dressed in his tighty-whitey's too.

Feeling as if I must say something, my curiosity having caught the better of me, I pose my question.

"Mr. Kilcrease, may I ask a question?" I say.

"Sure, Royce, ask away," Mr. Kilcrease says.

"When I visited before, everyone had on a lot of clothes, "I say, "Now we are all parading around in our jockey shorts. Why?"

Aaron, Ray and their stepfather laugh at my question. Once they quit laughing, Mr. Kilcrease answers my question.

"First off, call me Daryl, not Mr. Kilcrease, you have seen me naked so there is no need for such formality," Daryl says.

"I can do that, "I say, "So, Daryl, why are y'all dressed only in briefs?" I ponder.

"That's easy, my wife, their mom, isn't here, "Daryl says, "So we can relax and be men, be ourselves."

I say nothing, as I can now see what he means. When I get it, a light bulb goes off in my head, which translates to my face.

"Now, I get it," I say, "I feel stupid."

"Not a problem, you stay the same way in the dorms, I know I did when I was in school, "Daryl says, "Why should it be any different now."

"You saw me in briefs the one night when I bunked over in Aaron's room when I got drunk," Ray says, "You didn't mind did you."

"That's true, it didn't," I say.

"...and you live on an all-male floor of a dorm," Ray says, "So you see guys naked and in their underwear daily. It's no different than all four of us being in our underwear."

"I think he gets it, Ray," Daryl says, "You have made your point."

The doorbell rings, the pizza has arrived.

Its Daryl's restaurant friend with the pizza.

"Hey guys," says the man who walks into the Kilcrease house, dressed in gray cargo shorts, a Tampa Bay Buccaneer T-shirt and a baseball cap of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and a pair of New Balance tennis shoes. He doesn't bat an eye at the tighty-whitey attired men aging in range from their mid-twenties to their forties, "everyone cooling it on this warm Florida night?"

"You got that right, Terrence, while the wife's away, the men will play," Daryl answers without hesitation.

Daryl winks at Terrence; I am the only one that catches the exchange.

"Yep, it a good night for a swim," Terrance the Tampa Bay Bucs man says.

The Bucs-man places the pizzas on the table.

"So how much I owe ya, man," Daryl says.

"Let me take a dip in your pool and there will be no charge," the Bucs-man says jovially.

Daryl laughs.

"You got a deal," Daryl says," C'mon, I'll join you; it is humid as a motherfucker out tonight."

The Bucs-man nods his head and goes to the door leading out to the pool.

Daryl follows.

"Hey, go ahead and eat. I'll be outback with Terrence," Daryl says.

They both exit as Ray and Aaron stampede to the pizza.

"Eat up, Royce," Ray says, "his pizzas are the best."

We all grab apiece out of one of the boxes and go to the den, right off the kitchen. Ray finds a game on the tube it is a Bucs game.

I finish my piece of pizza and rise from my seat, completely oblivious to Ray and Aaron, to get another slice of pie; they are wrapped up in the spectacle of the men warring on the modern day gladiatorial arena.

Trying to be quiet and unnoticed I creep up to the kitchen window to see what Daryl and Terrence are doing.

Daryl is sitting in a lounge chair, slouched, with his legs spread eagle, happily fondling his cock through his tighty-whiteys. There is a noticeable bulge in them, which is being kept hard by his play.

Terrence is sitting on the far end of the pool, on the ledge, naked and fondling his cock, which is growing as I watch. The Bucs-man is a hairy Italian, dark and reeking of machismo.

Each seem to be playing off the actions of the other, seeing what they can do but glancing back at the door and windows seeing if anyone catches them in the act. I duck and cover when I think they may see me.

"Whatcha doin' Royce," Aaron yells out from the den over the loudness of the game.

"Be there in a sec, "I yell back.

As I yell, Aaron's stepdad pulls his cock from the waistband of his tighty-whitey's. His cock is beautiful in it full arousal. Mr. Kilcrease stands, his cock, jetting straight from his nest of blonde pubes. He stands for a minute or two, running his hands over his revealed nudity. His tighties stop in place just over his knees. Tweaking his nipples and tracing the outline of his muscles, before focusing all of his attention back onto his manhood. His does some rough strokes of his endowment for the joy of Terrence, who is intently watching him, as he carries out his own actions on his cock.

Terrence is busily stroking his own tool in rhythm with the Aaron's stepfather.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna take another dip," I say, "I am burning up."

"Okay, "Aaron says, "tell them if they want any pizza they'd better get their asses in here before it is all gone."

I do not answer but walk hurriedly to the backdoor. I stand glaring through the curtain-less pane and watch Mr. Kilcrease stroke his member for a few seconds. Neither one sees me; Terrence is stroking his cock, just as steadily as he was when I was first glaring at both of them out of the kitchen window.

I open the door as they both turn to see me emerge from the house.

Both stop in mid-cock stroke, both sporting massive erections which are not easily hidden, with manhood's as big as theirs hiding is not an easy task.

"Hey fellas," I say as I fondle my own growing erection in my tighty-whiteys.

Both say nothing nor do they cower back to hide what they are doing.

They are caught, red-handed.

Mr. Kilcrease drops his hands to his side in mid-stroke as I open the door. His tighty-whiteys hanging just above his knees. Terrence still parked on the pools rim, stops bating his pud, although the erection is glaringly obvious.

"Looking good, sirs, "I say, unashamed at my uninvited interruption.

There is a deathly silence as I stand there after closing the door behind me. I am greeted by the stifling heat of the Florida night.

"Come join us, bud," Terrence says from across the pool," drop those shorts and relax."

I did not need to be told, I pull down my tighty-whiteys, in one swift motion, as my stiff cock bounces off my lower abdomen furred by my own heavy treasure trail, the flapping flesh reverberating across the quietness of the enclosed pool area.

"You've got a nice piece there," Mr. Kilcrease says.

"Thank you, sir," I say.