One size of grey
Unusually I was straight into the shower after my Wife this morning, and before I headed for the bathroom, I stood naked and semi-erect in front of Her, and we casually discussed the order of the day. I showered as quickly as possible, ensuring She was still dressing and I still had a semi when came back to bedroom.
I chose my ultra low cut grey briefs from my underwear drawer. You know the ones – I’ve probably bored you to death with tales of my pants (UK). The ones that barely cover my cock when flaccid and (despite my mostly waxed crotch) none of my pubes. Though She has seen me in them briefly before (please excuse the pun, Dear Reader) I don’t think She has seen me posing quite so proudly in them. Not that I was overt about this, but I just stood there, with my partially swollen member, almost hidden by my diminutive underwear. I took far longer than I needed to put a shirt on, but it pleased me to display myself to my Wife. I didn’t look in Her direction – that ran the risk of being obvious – but I busied myself gathering together my jeans, shirt and socks whilst we talked.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw She looked. She looked down at my crotch. To be fair, She was probably thinking Is he serious? Those really are ridiculously tiny. If he ordered the wrong size, why didn’t he send them back? To be fair, there’s a reasonable chance She was thinking Not sexy, just like She did with my PVC jeans. But She looked at my body. And that’s why I bought these briefs. To get me noticed. To get my Wife to look at me.
I put my shirt on. It was long enough to hide my briefs, so I casually lifted the hem slightly to scratch my stomach. She looked down again.
I may need to pose in my underwear some more.