All-American Jocks

Underwear

“Dude, I got some new ones,” Bryce says as he walks through the front door into the apartment that Hayden and Garret share.

Garrett rolls his eyes from the couch; he’s been Hayden’s roommate for the better part of a year now, and even though the three of them have been friends since high school, Bryce has always managed to get on his nerves.

It’s not like Bryce is a complete douchebag or anything—wait, actually, that’s exactly what it’s like, and that’s why Garrett can’t stand Bryce.

Bryce Bowen is the All-American Jock. He stands six feet and three inches tall, and his entire body is chiseled from stone, muscular but at the same time sculpted, the body of a fitness-obsessed baseball player, not a linebacker.

He has a darker complexion than your typical Caucasian boy. His dark brown hair, chestnut eyes, olive skin, and soft pink lips, and above all, his penis, for the many fortunate enough to have seen it and the many more who have only managed to hear about it in stories, have led his classmates over the years to speculate privately that he’s the product of infidelity, with Hispanic or even Black genes—but both of his parents are white.

What makes Bryce insufferable to Garrett though is the way that he treats other people. Simply put, he’s a bully. He’s loud and crude and generally uses those two traits to publicly embarrass others. He loves to playfully punch and push and slap around other guys as a means of emasculating them, especially guys like Garrett who, despite his athleticism and masculinity, stands over half a foot shorter than Bryce.

But lately, Bryce even bullies Hayden. It came as a shock to Garrett the first time that he witnessed it. Hayden had been on a few dates with this blonde girl (Garrett can’t remember her name; Hayden went through a lot of girls), and it seemed like they were getting close to making it official, until one night when they went to a party together and she somehow ended up in a room with Bryce, who, to put it gently, completely destroyed her in bed. Bryce’s excuses when they both got back to the apartment drunk were uninspired and almost pathetic: “Dude, she was all over me, I figured you were two must have called it off, I had no idea why the hell she would be all over me if you were two were still talking” and “You can’t blame me dude, seriously, I tried to push her off, but she was totally hungry for my big dick and begging for it like a total cock hound” and “My bad bro, you can have the sloppy seconds if you want.” By the time he reached this last “apology,” Bryce had abandoned any pretense of remorse and was openly taunting Hayden as Garrett watched. He even gave Hayden a few playful “slaps” across his right cheek, playful, yet severe enough to leave bright red imprints on the side of his face.

It was surprising to Garrett because in high school Hayden was the alpha male, and Bryce was simply his right-hand man. Hayden had been the quarterback of the football team and the star of the baseball team. But recently, their roles have seemingly reversed, and it’s Hayden who by Garrett’s observation seems to be bending to Bryce’s gravity.

Bryce walks into the living room carrying a large, black trash bag. As he empties the contents of the nondescript bag onto the table. Underwear pour out of the trash bag onto the table. Black pairs, grey pairs, and olive pairs; colorful varieties, red, blue, orange, neon, and even pink; cotton, mesh, lycra, and silk, boxer briefs, trunks, briefs, and jockstraps. Seemingly on cue, Hayden walks out of his bedroom shirtless, wearing some black athletic shorts.

If it’s possible for Garrett to roll his eyes in an even more irritated fashion, he does so now, though he’s secretly intrigued.

Bryce was the one who turned Garrett (and Hayden) onto the appeal of underwear. They aren’t just a concern for gay men; they’re an integral part of sexual foreplay. They enhance the sexual tension, an aphrodisiac that your partner learns to play with and unwrap. They even serve as a tease for those who observe you from afar and dream about getting into your pants.

Just ask Justin Bieber and his white Calvin Kleins.

But there are also elements of power play embedded in underwear. For example, the jockstrap may be associated with, well, jocks, but depending on the color or the materials it may just as easily be associated with a bottom twink. Conversely, tight briefs may be the trademark of a feminine bottom, but when worn by the right guy, with the right amount of confidence and the right (big) dick, they can actually enhance masculinity.

More practically, sometimes the power play just comes from the fact that some underwear are made for big dicks, and some aren’t. This is the power play that resonated with Garrett the first time that Bryce and Hayden introduced him to SAXX underwear back in high school. Made with a special “sack” just to house your “sack” (and your big dick, of course).

The idea of underwear made for well-hung guys with big dicks made perfect sense to the high school Garrett and Hayden. In fact, Garrett started wearing SAXX underwear almost immediately after Bryce and Hayden first started talking about them. He loved the way his big dick looked in them at the time, especially being the skinny guys that he is, and even though his package no longer looks impressive these days (for reasons he never planned to share with Hayden or Bryce), he continues to wear them even now.

Garrett always wondered why Hayden, despite all of the time he spent entertaining Bryce’s conversations in high school about big dicks and SAXX underwear, never seemed to wear them himself. Hayden opted instead to continue wearing his Calvin Kleins. Of course, Garrett is basing this on the handful of times that he actually noticed Hayden’s underwear; he didn’t make it a habit to keep tabs on the underwear that his friends wore.

At any rate, as he watches them dig through the new pile of underwear on the table, he’s vaguely curious about the size of his friends’ dicks. They both have a lot of sex—more than Garrett anyway, whose current sex life consists of zero sex, zero masturbation, and a lot of dildo—and love to brag about the size of their dicks. In the case of Bryce, Garrett had heard rumors about how hung he was, but he’d never actually seen either of their dicks.

“Dude, my fucking package would look bomb in these,” Bryce comments as he picks up a tight pair of black mesh boxer briefs by the waistband.

The whole situation seems “kind of” gay to Garrett. Bryce brings over bags of used (as in previously worn; the underwear are clean) underwear allegedly given to him by his gay uncle, and he and Hayden try them on together and admire their bodies and add them to their own underwear drawers.

Yeah, “kind of” gay. Garrett was always kind of naïve about these types of things—what was socially acceptable and what wasn’t—and so who knows?

Hayden felt that it was gay at first too, but Bryce was into it, and Bryce obviously wasn’t gay. If they both looked awesome in them, and it helped both of them get laid, then what was the issue, he figured?

“Dude, try these on,” Bryce says, throwing Hayden a pair of tight little pink briefs. “They’re made for you.” Garrett reads the name Andrew Christian printed across the waistband. He’s never heard of the brand, but the briefs look to be about three sizes too small to be “made for” him.

As Hayden holds the pair of briefs up against his body and Bryce fiddles with his phone, Garrett receives a message and checks it. As much as he would like to stay and watch (this is half sarcasm and half truth, since he simultaneously feels the situation is homosexual but also does want to watch), the message tells him that it’s time to go. Maybe he has gay secrets of his own.

“Anyways, you guys have fun with whatever it is you’re doing here. I got some shit to do.” And with little more than a lazy nod of acknowledgement form Hayden, and no acknowledgement at all from Bryce, Garrett grabs his backpack from his bedroom and walks out the apartment door.

Hayden picks up another pair of underwear from the pile. A pair of black trunks with less material than the Calvin Klein boxer briefs he typically wears, but which still seem much more appropriate for his body.

“No, dude. Not those. The pink ones. Trust me.”

Hayden drops the black underwear back onto the pile and picks up the pink briefs. Whether he realizes it or not, he always ends up wearing the pairs of underwear that Bryce decides are “made for him.”

He’s suddenly regretting the fact that he walked out here shirtless. He’s changed with Bryce in the locker room for years, but he’s one of the guys who likes to keep his shirt on while he’s changing to cover himself up.

Bryce starts to undress, and Hayden follows suit, but with nothing to cover himself up, he turns around to face away from Bryce.

“Still shy?” Bryce teases from behind, and Hayden knows without looking that Bryce has already stripped off all of his clothes and is standing behind him naked, as he always does. “I don’t mind,” he continues, “Those are some nice, smooth butt cheeks, bro,” Bryce says, making fun of him.

“Fuck you,” Hayden responds as he steps out of his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs and steps into the pink Andrew Christian briefs.

Hayden does actually look surprisingly good in them. He has the same tall, lean, and muscular body as Bryce, standing just one inch shorter at 6’2’’, but with blonde hair and blue eyes, the Aryan take on the All-American Jock.

Somehow, the underwear make him look slimmer and less masculine than he ordinarily does, emphasizing his hairless body and hourglass figure, which tapers in from broad shoulders to thin waist. Incidentally, the skin-tight underwear do exaggerate the size of his penis, which appears as one consistent, round bulge, rather than an outline of his cock, something which Hayden feels suddenly grateful for. In fact, he feels good about how he looks right now. Good enough for him to turn around and face Bryce again.

As soon as he does, he regrets it.

Bryce is wearing the black mesh boxer briefs. They’re PUMP, a brand which seems to be a favorite of Bryce’s gay uncle’s, because they’ve received (and worn) countless pairs of them in the past few months. Bryce’s bulge looks absolutely massive. The mesh stretches out several inches and is bursting at the seams to accommodate Bryce’s penis. Hayden can make out the shape of Bryce’s shaft and mushroom head through the fabric.

He should be used it by now, but every time he’s surprised. He lets himself become overconfident with the way he looks, only to end up disappointed and humiliated by the contrast between their bulges. It almost feels like a mind game that Bryce lures him into on purpose.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised. Unlike Garrett, he’s seen Bryce’s cock a thousand times in the locker room because they played baseball together. But each and every time he sees it, it’s a fresh humiliation.

He’s only ever seen it soft, but he’s heard stories of what it looks like when hard. In fact, because of those stories, he’s made a point of never taking sloppy seconds from Bryce. And in the cases that Bryce takes his sloppy seconds, he cuts off the contact with the girl in question. Just to be safe.

He even had a nightmare once that Bryce had fucked one of his girlfriends and the next time he had gone to fuck her, he found a gaping black hole down there, so big that his dick slid in with no contact, like a hotdog thrown down a hallway. The girl just sat there, angry at first, and then simply bored.

“Dude, we look fucking amazing,” Bryce says, grabbing Hayden and pulling him in so that they can admire themselves in the mirror on the wall. “Well, at least, I do,” he continues as he flexes his biceps.

Hayden finally joins in, raising his arms and flexing his biceps, but he can’t take his eyes off of their bulges, one large and one small.

Author's Note: If you would like to read future chapters as soon as they're published or read the entire book, visit: https://conormonaghan.com/