god… it’s so absolutely, perfectly, brilliantly deliciously divine, seeing a well endowed man in his cotton underwear. seeing the plain of his stomach, the slightly increasing fur as it disappears downwards into the band. the delineation, the curves, the swelling definition of his concealed endowment is almost more than i can take.
my mouth salivates after going dry. i instinctively swallow and lick my lips after biting them. it is virtually impossible to raise my eyes or look elsewhere as the perfectly packaged mound of his flesh is right there. almost touchable. my imagination is flying into every naughty thing i have ever seen or witnessed, as i envision myself taking him.
a band of white, a delicate veil that hides nothing and showcases everything while maintaining a modesty that is irrelevant considering all that it exposes to my eager eyes. i can see his resting shape and imagine him in the full bloom of arousal. i see the curved perfection of his softest and most vulnerable sack, tightly held front and center as if he was at the height of arousal.
i can imagine him elongating, swelling and taking shape beneath my heated gaze. tenting the material until it is threadbare and provides a shadowed low light of definition which highlights his arching pillar which is striated with a myriad of veins and ropy topography. the indentation of a plumed head almost makes me breathless, as it’s heart shape inspires my pulse to race.
with everything i have seen, in truth, i have actually seen nothing and his modesty is intact, his virtue upheld by the meagerest of thread counts. as much as his appearance in his briefs has impacted me, he is in fact covered. it is only in my mind that he is also covered by my mouth, my hands and my body as i force his physical response into turgidity and a resulting tumescence as his arousal seeps through the cotton in a perfect damp spot of desire.