My adventures in underwear
Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2026 3:51 am
Based on a comment I'd made recently, I received a request to tell the story of my experiences with bikini briefs when I was in my teens. I decided if I was going that far I might as well make it about my relationship with underwear in general and start at the beginning.
I'm old enough that I started out in cloth diapers with plastic overpants. When I was put into potty training, the diapers were swapped for briefs. From what I remember, these were of a fairly heavyweight fabric that wasn't particularly soft. I want to say maybe they were Carters but I'm not sure.
So it was a big deal for me when my mom finally switched me to Fruit of the Looms with the yellow and blue band when I started kindergarten. I stayed in those until I was around 10 when mom got me a pack of Hanes instead.
I hated them, because they were cut differently than the FTLs. If I sat on the floor (particularly "Indian style") the fly would part rather conspicuously, providing a window to the contents inside. Worse, depending on how I would stand up afterward, my penis would get trapped in the fly which was uncomfortable and embarrassing to have to adjust myself afterward. (I wish there were pictures of me in these briefs. Sadly, there aren't.)
This was a particularly big deal to me because up until around age 11 or so, I would hang around the house in just a shirt and briefs unless we had visitors. For whatever reason I was comfortable being like that -- but from the time I started Kindergarten the sanctity of those briefs was sacrosanct. If I got muddy while playing in the yard I was willing to take off everything else at the door but the underwear stayed on until I got to the bathroom door.
Anyway, at the time I was glad my mom accepted my complaints about the Hanes and let me switch to a set of JC Penney briefs which I really liked, although after that we went back to FTLs for some reason -- possibly because we were shopping at K-Mart more often than the mall around that time -- but that was okay.
I really only have two specific memories of being embarrassed about lounging at home in my underwear. This would have been about the time of the Hanes experiment but I'm pretty sure I wasn't wearing those when this happened. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the family room watching TV. It was early summer so no shirt, just briefs.
Suddenly I hear the front door. It's a saleslady my mom knows, a few years older than her, dropping off something. Usually I get plenty of warning about visitors and I'd put something on but in this case either it was unplanned or when it was mentioned I didn't think she would be coming into the house. Either way, I suddenly realize she's being brought into the living room through the doorway behind me. That's when my blood went cold, because that was also the passage to my room (and obviously, my clothes). So now I was more or less stuck there.
Of course she sees me there and knows who I am so she greets me by name. Somehow this manages to push my sense of embarrassment higher. At first she doesn't say anything about my state of (un)dress, but it doesn't take long for her to pick up on my embarrassed expression and body language.
She smiles and tells me to relax and not to worry because she'd raised two sons and she'd seen it all before. The thing is, the dismissive way she said it just made my feelings stronger. My mom asked if I wanted to go put something on but that would have meant getting up and turning around. So I settled for grabbing a pillow off the couch which I put over my lap until she left, very aware that she still had a plain view of my butt in my tighty whities.
I'm still not sure why this was such a big deal to me, because there really wasn't that much to see anyway. By the time I was 10 I had become a fairly husky boy. The resulting profile in my briefs was a slight bump in the crotch of my briefs made by my scrotum, and then one nearly uninterrupted arc from there up to the waistband. I've seen a picture of me as a kid on the couch and it hardly looks like there's anything in my tighty whities at all. Like maybe I'm a girl wearing boys' underwear.
Well, it wasn't terribly long after that incident when I started getting involuntary erections. I was a late bloomer in several respects when it came to puberty, but not when it came to that! The feelings that almost always accompanied one of those unwanted erections were difficult enough to navigate, but it was the tenting that was the worst. Between the way my body was built and the way my briefs would fit, the fabric would encourage my penis to point almost straight up in my lap. After all that inconspicuousness, suddenly having an obvious bulge was a whole new kind of embarrassing and feeling like it was out of my control was borderline humiliating.
Which brings me to the other incident I remember, probably when I was 11. I was sitting at the kitchen table just after dinner, in a shirt and briefs on this occasion. I was the last one to finish eating and I was about to get up when I could feel one of those cyclic erections coming on.
This one was exceptionally strong and I looked down to see the very noticeable tent I was pitching. The table was visible from the family room with a direct line of sight from my chair to the couch and I became very worried that my mom would happen to look in my direction and see it.
My penis was so hard I couldn't help but squirm. and that in turn made it throb. I felt like this went on for minutes but I'm sure in realtime it was more like 30 seconds. Right about the time I didn't think I could handle it anymore, my body relented and I went back to being limp.
I made a beeline for my room shortly after, and that was pretty much the last time I wore just briefs. From there I would wear shorts or sweats depending on the weather -- until about a year later when I felt like they didn't do enough to preserve my modesty when I'd get an unexpected boner.
This brings me to Christmas when I was 12. One side of the family drew names for the adults but the kids got small gifts from everyone. Well, that year for some reason my mom decided to get three of my older cousins a gift pack of bikini briefs with cologne.
I remember my cousins felt that was a kind of racy gift to get from an aunt. The modest part of me felt that way too. But! The immodest part of me that was developing underneath was desperately curious: That idea of wearing underwear that plainly showed the contours of my penis and scrotum was incredibly exciting. In my mind I could be standing, in my underwear, and still have my little package plainly visible to anyone who cared to look. That mental image gave me butterflies in my tummy and goosebumps everywhere.
I don't remember how I eventually managed to communicate to my mom that I wanted to try a pair of bikini briefs myself, but sometime over the months afterward I eventually did, sheepishly.
What I finally got was a Brut gift set similar to what my cousins received. A bottle of cologne or aftershave, and a pair of bikini briefs -- candy apple red except for a white vertical band on one hip about as wide as my hand.
I would have been 13 and just getting my first wisps. And I absolutely loved how that pair of bikinis felt on my butt and between my legs. I would stare at myself in the mirror behind my bedroom door, amazed by the way they looked on me. I'm pretty sure I tried taking a Polaroid of myself in the mirror once but it didn't turn out so I didn't keep it.
With the thinner, stretchier fabric, even my little package was quite obvious, and I would point forward instead of upward which accentuated the effect further. The polyester blend felt silkier than the plain cotton, which was also exciting.
As a result, it seemed like erections happened so easily when I wore them, and were somehow more enjoyable, too. Those three inch tents looked so big at the time, especially after being so used to the androgynous look when I was in briefs.
Looking back, I was discovering what it was like to feel sexy. But in the moment it all felt so very naughty. Part of me was very ashamed to have those feelings, and even more ashamed to discover that I liked feeling that way.
And as much as hated the junior high locker room, that naughty part of me really liked to imagine being in the middle of changing when one of the other boys notices I'm wearing something other than tighty-whities and announces it for all to hear -- so I wind up standing meekly while they all gawk and taunt me for how small my very obvious equipment is and for being chubby and wearing what look like girl panties. (It's worth reinforcing that only one boy in our class wore boxers then, everyone else wore plain white briefs.)
Eventually I got up enough courage to wear those red bikins to school occasionally -- on days I knew we wouldn't have to change for gym. Even then I remember how nervous I would always be when I would go to the boys' bathroom to pee, especially having to unbutton and unzip my jeans then push down the waistband to draw out my penis. The red fabric seemed so loud and there were no dividers between the urinals, so I felt like anyone next to me could see that flash of saturated color in their peripheral vision. Unsurprisingly, that made me want to stand closer than usual to the porcelain. And I did -- when I wasn't alone. When I had the space to myself though, I made myself stand a little further back.
Between all that and how different it felt with the unusual cut of underwear between me and my jeans it felt so naughty and exciting. It was my little personal secret.
Now, I don't have any memories of actually changing in the locker room while wearing those bikins, but I feel like I must have had to sooner or later (either intentionally or by mistake). That suggests I must have been quick or lucky on those days to not have been noticed.
However, the one thing I didn't account for was my jeans gapping at the back when I knelt or squatted, betraying what I had on underneath -- especially if my shirt rode up even a little. This was brought to my attention one day when I was at my locker in the hall. I was minding my own business, on my knees as I put my homework into my backpack. Suddenly I heard a woman's voice behind me declare:
"I like your sexy fancy pants!"
I immediately sat up and turned. That comment had come from my first grade teacher! She just smiled and walked away casually as my face turned as red as my underwear.
Obviously, as a 13 year old boy in junior high I had absolutely no idea how to handle such a statement. She'd said it in a lightly teasing but friendly way; neither loud nor soft, neither mocking nor sultry. If anything, it felt like she was being supportive of me making choices for myself I guess.
There must not have been any of my classmates in earshot, because there was no taunting and no questions around what was said. There was just me, stunned and very aware of what I had on under my jeans. My body was as confused as my emotions as I remember leaving for the day with a penis that wasn't stiff or long, but was certainly more swollen than normal. The inevitable erection came later when I had the chance to replay the incident in my mind and properly enjoy the compliment.
That's the story of me and my first pair of bikini briefs. It wasn't the last, but this takes me up through the end of junior high which seems like a good place to wrap up for now.
As usual, questions and comments are encouraged.
I'm old enough that I started out in cloth diapers with plastic overpants. When I was put into potty training, the diapers were swapped for briefs. From what I remember, these were of a fairly heavyweight fabric that wasn't particularly soft. I want to say maybe they were Carters but I'm not sure.
So it was a big deal for me when my mom finally switched me to Fruit of the Looms with the yellow and blue band when I started kindergarten. I stayed in those until I was around 10 when mom got me a pack of Hanes instead.
I hated them, because they were cut differently than the FTLs. If I sat on the floor (particularly "Indian style") the fly would part rather conspicuously, providing a window to the contents inside. Worse, depending on how I would stand up afterward, my penis would get trapped in the fly which was uncomfortable and embarrassing to have to adjust myself afterward. (I wish there were pictures of me in these briefs. Sadly, there aren't.)
This was a particularly big deal to me because up until around age 11 or so, I would hang around the house in just a shirt and briefs unless we had visitors. For whatever reason I was comfortable being like that -- but from the time I started Kindergarten the sanctity of those briefs was sacrosanct. If I got muddy while playing in the yard I was willing to take off everything else at the door but the underwear stayed on until I got to the bathroom door.
Anyway, at the time I was glad my mom accepted my complaints about the Hanes and let me switch to a set of JC Penney briefs which I really liked, although after that we went back to FTLs for some reason -- possibly because we were shopping at K-Mart more often than the mall around that time -- but that was okay.
I really only have two specific memories of being embarrassed about lounging at home in my underwear. This would have been about the time of the Hanes experiment but I'm pretty sure I wasn't wearing those when this happened. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the family room watching TV. It was early summer so no shirt, just briefs.
Suddenly I hear the front door. It's a saleslady my mom knows, a few years older than her, dropping off something. Usually I get plenty of warning about visitors and I'd put something on but in this case either it was unplanned or when it was mentioned I didn't think she would be coming into the house. Either way, I suddenly realize she's being brought into the living room through the doorway behind me. That's when my blood went cold, because that was also the passage to my room (and obviously, my clothes). So now I was more or less stuck there.
Of course she sees me there and knows who I am so she greets me by name. Somehow this manages to push my sense of embarrassment higher. At first she doesn't say anything about my state of (un)dress, but it doesn't take long for her to pick up on my embarrassed expression and body language.
She smiles and tells me to relax and not to worry because she'd raised two sons and she'd seen it all before. The thing is, the dismissive way she said it just made my feelings stronger. My mom asked if I wanted to go put something on but that would have meant getting up and turning around. So I settled for grabbing a pillow off the couch which I put over my lap until she left, very aware that she still had a plain view of my butt in my tighty whities.
I'm still not sure why this was such a big deal to me, because there really wasn't that much to see anyway. By the time I was 10 I had become a fairly husky boy. The resulting profile in my briefs was a slight bump in the crotch of my briefs made by my scrotum, and then one nearly uninterrupted arc from there up to the waistband. I've seen a picture of me as a kid on the couch and it hardly looks like there's anything in my tighty whities at all. Like maybe I'm a girl wearing boys' underwear.
Well, it wasn't terribly long after that incident when I started getting involuntary erections. I was a late bloomer in several respects when it came to puberty, but not when it came to that! The feelings that almost always accompanied one of those unwanted erections were difficult enough to navigate, but it was the tenting that was the worst. Between the way my body was built and the way my briefs would fit, the fabric would encourage my penis to point almost straight up in my lap. After all that inconspicuousness, suddenly having an obvious bulge was a whole new kind of embarrassing and feeling like it was out of my control was borderline humiliating.
Which brings me to the other incident I remember, probably when I was 11. I was sitting at the kitchen table just after dinner, in a shirt and briefs on this occasion. I was the last one to finish eating and I was about to get up when I could feel one of those cyclic erections coming on.
This one was exceptionally strong and I looked down to see the very noticeable tent I was pitching. The table was visible from the family room with a direct line of sight from my chair to the couch and I became very worried that my mom would happen to look in my direction and see it.
My penis was so hard I couldn't help but squirm. and that in turn made it throb. I felt like this went on for minutes but I'm sure in realtime it was more like 30 seconds. Right about the time I didn't think I could handle it anymore, my body relented and I went back to being limp.
I made a beeline for my room shortly after, and that was pretty much the last time I wore just briefs. From there I would wear shorts or sweats depending on the weather -- until about a year later when I felt like they didn't do enough to preserve my modesty when I'd get an unexpected boner.
This brings me to Christmas when I was 12. One side of the family drew names for the adults but the kids got small gifts from everyone. Well, that year for some reason my mom decided to get three of my older cousins a gift pack of bikini briefs with cologne.
I remember my cousins felt that was a kind of racy gift to get from an aunt. The modest part of me felt that way too. But! The immodest part of me that was developing underneath was desperately curious: That idea of wearing underwear that plainly showed the contours of my penis and scrotum was incredibly exciting. In my mind I could be standing, in my underwear, and still have my little package plainly visible to anyone who cared to look. That mental image gave me butterflies in my tummy and goosebumps everywhere.
I don't remember how I eventually managed to communicate to my mom that I wanted to try a pair of bikini briefs myself, but sometime over the months afterward I eventually did, sheepishly.
What I finally got was a Brut gift set similar to what my cousins received. A bottle of cologne or aftershave, and a pair of bikini briefs -- candy apple red except for a white vertical band on one hip about as wide as my hand.
I would have been 13 and just getting my first wisps. And I absolutely loved how that pair of bikinis felt on my butt and between my legs. I would stare at myself in the mirror behind my bedroom door, amazed by the way they looked on me. I'm pretty sure I tried taking a Polaroid of myself in the mirror once but it didn't turn out so I didn't keep it.
With the thinner, stretchier fabric, even my little package was quite obvious, and I would point forward instead of upward which accentuated the effect further. The polyester blend felt silkier than the plain cotton, which was also exciting.
As a result, it seemed like erections happened so easily when I wore them, and were somehow more enjoyable, too. Those three inch tents looked so big at the time, especially after being so used to the androgynous look when I was in briefs.
Looking back, I was discovering what it was like to feel sexy. But in the moment it all felt so very naughty. Part of me was very ashamed to have those feelings, and even more ashamed to discover that I liked feeling that way.
And as much as hated the junior high locker room, that naughty part of me really liked to imagine being in the middle of changing when one of the other boys notices I'm wearing something other than tighty-whities and announces it for all to hear -- so I wind up standing meekly while they all gawk and taunt me for how small my very obvious equipment is and for being chubby and wearing what look like girl panties. (It's worth reinforcing that only one boy in our class wore boxers then, everyone else wore plain white briefs.)
Eventually I got up enough courage to wear those red bikins to school occasionally -- on days I knew we wouldn't have to change for gym. Even then I remember how nervous I would always be when I would go to the boys' bathroom to pee, especially having to unbutton and unzip my jeans then push down the waistband to draw out my penis. The red fabric seemed so loud and there were no dividers between the urinals, so I felt like anyone next to me could see that flash of saturated color in their peripheral vision. Unsurprisingly, that made me want to stand closer than usual to the porcelain. And I did -- when I wasn't alone. When I had the space to myself though, I made myself stand a little further back.
Between all that and how different it felt with the unusual cut of underwear between me and my jeans it felt so naughty and exciting. It was my little personal secret.
Now, I don't have any memories of actually changing in the locker room while wearing those bikins, but I feel like I must have had to sooner or later (either intentionally or by mistake). That suggests I must have been quick or lucky on those days to not have been noticed.
However, the one thing I didn't account for was my jeans gapping at the back when I knelt or squatted, betraying what I had on underneath -- especially if my shirt rode up even a little. This was brought to my attention one day when I was at my locker in the hall. I was minding my own business, on my knees as I put my homework into my backpack. Suddenly I heard a woman's voice behind me declare:
"I like your sexy fancy pants!"
I immediately sat up and turned. That comment had come from my first grade teacher! She just smiled and walked away casually as my face turned as red as my underwear.
Obviously, as a 13 year old boy in junior high I had absolutely no idea how to handle such a statement. She'd said it in a lightly teasing but friendly way; neither loud nor soft, neither mocking nor sultry. If anything, it felt like she was being supportive of me making choices for myself I guess.
There must not have been any of my classmates in earshot, because there was no taunting and no questions around what was said. There was just me, stunned and very aware of what I had on under my jeans. My body was as confused as my emotions as I remember leaving for the day with a penis that wasn't stiff or long, but was certainly more swollen than normal. The inevitable erection came later when I had the chance to replay the incident in my mind and properly enjoy the compliment.
That's the story of me and my first pair of bikini briefs. It wasn't the last, but this takes me up through the end of junior high which seems like a good place to wrap up for now.
As usual, questions and comments are encouraged.
did you ever wear any briefs with patterns or cartoon characters? Did you witness any other guys get pantsed or embarrassed in briefs?
A great experience.