Date: Wed, 12 Jul 2023 20:18:30 +0200
From: Future Cole <cichegoron@mail.com>
Subject: Tighty Whities Travels (Part 6)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,
locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination
or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living
or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Always practice safe sex.

Please do not read if you are under the legal age in your country or region.

---
Chapter 6

Uncle Tate had walked in on me jerking off.

It was my first thought as the lightness in the room woke me up. We'd kept
the balcony door open last night, which meant the blinds didn't quite block
out the light so it flooded into the room.

I kind of moved my feet under the sheet, trying to see if he was beside
me. I couldn't feel anything so I moved to sit up.

I looked outside and could make out the shape of my uncle, sitting on the
balcony. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized he wasn't in a robe
today. I could see his bushy chest from here.

Uncle Tate was on the balcony in his tighty whities.

My morning wood was subsiding, even with the thought of a fresh, well-lit
sighting of my uncle. I swung my legs around and got out of bed, walking
over to the balcony door.

"Good morning," I said as Uncle Tate came into view. He had his phone in
hand as he looked up at me.

"Happy birthday, Tommy," he replied with a smile.

Sure enough, he was wearing just his briefs, their high-rise waistband
falling right at his belly button. A bit of his furry stomach rolled over
the top, obscuring its stripes from view. I tried not to stare too long,
just enough to see the fabric transition from loose to tight as it cupped
his privates.

"How long have you been up?" I asked.

"A little while. Took a shower and just need to throw some clothes on, but
it's too damn hot both in this room and outside," he replied. "How'd you
sleep?"

"Pretty well, minus the middle of the night bathroom break," I said. I
mentally kicked myself... why did I just bring it up to him? Maybe he'd be
proud that I wasn't embarrassed at what he'd seen. Or maybe he'd pretend he
hadn't seen anything at all.

"Oh yeah, don't worry about that," he responded, probably sensing the shame
in my voice. "Locks never work right on these hotel doors. Hell, if it had
been the other way around, you'd have seen me in a much worse state."

Worse than actively cumming, jizz splattering my stomach as my uncle looked
on? I struggled to imagine. I also lost my struggle to not look at his
crotch. My eyes darted down and noticed a shift in the shape of his
pouch. Was Uncle Tate getting hard in front of me?

"And, on that note, I was going through my stuff and it looks like what
you've got on are the last of my low rise undies. If you sweat anything
like I did last night, you probably don't want to re-wear them today, but
if you do, that's up to you."

I groaned. "So do you mean that the only option are these sweaty briefs or
your massive ones?"

Uncle Tate grabbed at the elastic waistband of his briefs, "Well, not these
ones exactly, unless that's what you want," he said with a laugh. I hope my
face didn't reveal that I wouldn't mind that exactly. "But one of the last
clean pairs I have."

"I guess that's the only real option," I shrugged.

"Perfect, and you'll probably need to wear the same shorts and T-shirt from
yesterday, just to make sure we don't fully run out of clothes here. I've
actually folded them up for you." He pointed to a neatly folded pile of
clothes next to him.

I got out of bed, revealing my body to my uncle. I stood up, pulling at the
waistband of the baggy briefs, rearranging my junk in the process. I
grabbed the bundle of clothes from the table. "Well, I guess I'll get ready
and we can get on with the day," I said, heading for the bathroom.

"Wait, Tommy," Uncle Tate called for me, standing up from the chair. I
turned back to look at him, seeing his form half-covered in white ribbed
cotton, with a waistband firmly around his middle. Looking down, I could
see leaning to the left the remnants of his erection, a clear
phallus-shaped mound in the tighty whities. In his hand, he held a pair of
his underwear. "Don't forget these."

He passed me the folded cotton, which felt extra soft in my hands. I headed
off to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I held the briefs up. If I had thought yesterday's were large on me, I was
apt to drown in these things. I then put them back down, turned on the
shower, and got in to let the memories of the night before wash away from
me.

I got out, dried off, and looked at my nude form in the mirror, my eyes
quickly drawing down to the undies on the counter. I grabbed them and held
them up again, before opening them up at the waistband and bringing them
down to my feet.

In went my right foot followed by my left. I began to slide them up my
legs, the ribbed cotton soft against my skin.

I brought them to where I usually wore my underwear, right at my waist, and
let the waistband go. I looked at myself in the mirror.

I might as well have been wearing a pair of white boxers they were so
loose. The bottom of the crotch was about halfway down my thighs, the thin
fabric loose between there and the waistband. There was no sense that
anything was beneath the cotton, let alone the bulge I'd seen on Uncle Tate
in these things.

I pinched at the fabric and pulled it in and out. They were humungous on
me. In fact, given the amount of extra cotton, I was sure I would be
uncomfortable all day. That's what made me decide what I did next.

My hands drifted to the waistband, pinching it on either side before
pulling the briefs up the way that Uncle Tate wore them. Given the fact
these were his underwear and he was a bit taller and a bit larger than I
was, I didn't feel the crotch of the briefs begin to cradle my junk until
the waistband was at the bottom of my ribcage.

Looking back in the mirror, I took in the sight. I looked like something
out of the 1920s, my entire stomach hidden behind white cotton. And, while
the fabric was loose all around my stomach, the way I'd hiked them up at my
balls propped up into a neat bulged right in the front.

I grabbed the shorts and put them on over the massive tighty whities. Even
with the shorts hiked up, a massive amount of the briefs' cotton spilled
out over them. I tossed a T shirt on over it and looked at myself again.

If I saw me on the street, I'd just think I was wearing some hand-me-downs
that were a bit too big. I'd never guess that I had tighty whities hiked up
to my chest underneath those clothes, though.

That was good enough for me. I exited the bathroom and headed downstairs to
meet up with Uncle Tate.

***

It was around lunchtime that we finally hit a bar. I was proudly carded,
showing off that I was 21 and could officially drink. Not that I hadn't
ever before, but it felt different doing it legally.

We shared a few drinks, our conversation getting progressively sloppier as
the afternoon wore on. Finally, Uncle Tate decided we shouldn't get too
drunk--but not after we were probably past that point. It wasn't even two
o'clock yet and we realized we probably needed a nap.

We stumbled back to the hotel and up to the room.

"Goddamn, it's hot in here," he said, casually tossing off his shirt. He
fiddled with the button on his shorts before they dropped to the
ground. "Hope you don't mind."

Fuck, I certainly didn't.

"Feel free to get out of those sweaty clothes, too," he added.

Didn't have to ask me twice. I tossed the borrowed clothes to the ground,
slightly nervous to reveal myself in the full-rise briefs and slightly more
nervous something might show in them, especially as I stole glances at my
uncle's cotton-encased bulge.

It was Uncle Tate's idea to grab another round from the minibar as we got
ready to nap, both of us lounging in our giant tighty whities.

"I've got an idea," Uncle Tate said, his words slightly slurring as he
popped open a beer. "Let's play Truth or Dare."

"This is my twenty-first birthday, not my thirteenth," I said with a laugh,
accepting a bottle from my uncle.

"Oh, it can be more fun than that. Hell, I'm sure I've already shared a few
of my truths this afternoon. Give me a dare to start us off." He coaxed me
on.

"Okay, fine, umm..." I thought, looking at my uncle in just his tighty
whities as he wanted me to dare him to do something. The first thing that
sprang to my mind couldn't be spoken, so I went with the next best
thing. "I dare you to do the chicken dance for a minute without stopping."

"Easy, set your clock," he said. I quickly set a timer. He put his hands up
and, on my go, started. First, he flapped his hands open and closed, then
brought them into his shoulders and flapped his arms like two wings. Next,
he brought them in front of him and wiggled his whole body in time, before
clapping four times and turning a quarter-turn.

He laughed as he went along and I clapped the beat for him, keeping an eye
more on the movement in his drawers than on the clock. As his back was too
me, I could see the two mounds of flesh beneath his undies wiggle as the
shimmied his hips lower. When he hopped to turn again, I could see the
impact of gravity on his whole body, the heft of him jiggling slightly as
it lifted momentarily.

Even moreso, the way his package shifted along with some of his motion but
not the rest was riveting. I swear I could see the separation of the bulge
into its separate parts at times, especially as the sunlight hit it.

Just as I felt myself zoning out while staring at him inappropriately, the
timer went off and Uncle Tate stopped dancing. He grabbed a seat on the
bed. "Whew, that worked up a sweat," he dabbed his cold beer at his
brow. "Your turn, birthday boy. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to go out on the balcony and shout that you're drunk," he
laughed as he said it.

"Fine, but I'm putting on a robe. It's still light out," I said as I
grabbed a robe and went outside. "I JUST TURNED TWENTY ONE AND I'M DRUNK!"
I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"How was that?" I asked as I came back in, slipping back out of the robe.

"Hysterical." He couldn't hold back his laughter as he sipped at his
beer. "My turn. Truth," he said.

I thought for a minute, my hands absent-mindedly adjusting the waistband on
the briefs I was wearing. "Is it weird seeing me in your underwear?" I
asked, looking away from him.

"Oh, well, hmm," he seemed kind of taken aback, then looked at me, his eyes
roaming over my form including the part of it that was obscured in a pair
of his giant white briefs, "Well, seeing someone smaller than me in them
definitely makes me feel like my underwear are massive."

I laughed at that, grabbing a fistful of fabric in each hand on either side
of the briefs and shaking them. "Well, they certainly are on me," I said.

"Yeah, but other than that, I guess it's good to see someone younger in
something more classic. Maybe the size or the cut isn't right for you, but
it works great for me and makes me feel like a real man. Seeing you in them
makes me hope that you'll have some respect for the classics and maybe find
some--what do they call them, whitey tighties?"

"Tighty whities," I corrected him with a slight chuckle.

"Maybe you'll find some tighty whities to make your own." He said.

"Cheers to that," I responded, holding up my beer. Uncle Tate clinked his
to mine.

"Now, it's your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I responded.

"I dare you to..." he thought for a minute, then added, "Go out into the
hallway in just tighty whities."

"Uncle Tate, c'mon," I said, looking down at myself in his undies. "What if
someone sees?"

"Oh, nobody gives a damn," he said. "You should be proud! They're classics!
You know what, I'll use up my next dare and join you."

"So the two of us in the hallway in just our tighty whities?" I asked.

"Well, they both belong to me," he said with a wink. "But yeah, why not?
It'll be a funny story."

"Fine," I said, begrudgingly, and walked to the door with beer-in-hand,
self consciously adjusting the massive underwear on my body. I wondered if
Uncle Tate as looking as we walked to the door, observing my body in his
undies.

I got to the door, opened it and peeked my head out, looking to see if
there was anyone out there. The coast was clear. I stepped one foot past
the threshold, then the next. It wasn't so bad. In fact, it was kind of
exciting.

"Your turn," I said, ready to run back in.

"Not so fast," Uncle Tate put up his hand as he stepped forth. "I said I'd
join you, not that I'd do it alone."

I took a sip from my bottle as Uncle Tate's hairy figure made its way out
of the door. His left foot inched out into the hall, followed by his
right. He held the door open with just his elbow, but the rest of him was
firmly in the hallway.

"Well we did it," I said, holding up my beer. "Cheers to us."

"Cheers," Uncle Tate said, and our bottles clinked.

And the door clicked.

"Was that the..." my voice trailed off, looking from Uncle Tate to the
now-shut hotel room door. The arm he had propping the door open had been
the same one that was holding his beer. Now we were locked out and in the
most embarrassing way possible.

"Oh dammit," Uncle Tate said, reaching for the handle. It jiggled but the
door didn't budge. "I think we need to go down and get a new key."

"We aren't wearing any clothes!" I responded, looking at the two of us each
in just a pair of massive white briefs.

"It's no different than being in a bathing suit," Uncle Tate said, somewhat
unconvincingly.

"What if just you go?" I asked. "This dare was your idea."

"Yeah and what will someone say if they see you standing alone outside a
hotel room wearing just a pair of your uncle's tighty whities," he
said. "Put your beer down and let's go."

We both left our bottles on the floor and headed down the hallway, looking
all around as we made our way to the elevator bank.

We stood side-by-side in the elevator, matching in our tighty whities. As
we made our way down, the lobby became visible through the glass
enclosure. I began to notice peoples' attention turning to us.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened and anyone and everyone in the lobby that looked
could see the two of us in just our underwear. And they really did start to
look.

"Oh my god," I heard someone say as we stepped out of the elevator. "Look
at those two!"

"Tighty whities!" someone else shouted, bursting out laughing.

Uncle Tate moved to try to cover himself, bringing his hands to his
bulge. It did nothing to hide the fact that he was wearing grandpa undies
and basically half his body was covered in white cotton.

We started making our way to the front desk, dodging people along the way
and trying to ignore the stares, points, and laughs. When we got to the
desk, there was no one there. I ran the bell, looking around nervously,
partially hoping that this would be done as soon as possible, but also
enjoying the feeling of being exposed.

Finally, a man stepped out from a door and instantly looked shocked to see
us standing there.

"I'm going to have to ask you to put some shirts on. I know we're a resort,
but that's one of the rules we have here," he said as he stepped up to the
desk. As he did, he was able to see over the desk and see we were both just
wearing underwear. "Okay, what's going on here?"

"Sorry, we got locked out of our room, nothing illicit going on here,"
Uncle Tate said.

"Sorry for the assumption," the agent said. "It's just not everyday I see
men in their tighty whities in our lobby. In fact, I didn't even know they
still made tighty whities or that anyone still wore them."

"Well, just to be clear, I'm the one who usually wears them. And they
definitely still make them--I pick up a six-pack every few months. My
nephew here, his bag got lost on the flight here so he's been having to
borrow some of mine."

"Okay, definitely thought those things looked big," he commented. "What's
your room number so I can get you a new key and you can get covered up."

Uncle Tate told him and he quickly got a new key printed up and passed it
over. "Here you go. This will be a story I truly won't forget...the tighty
whities twins." He chuckled and watched us as we walked away, our
cotton-covered asses flexing in the underwear.

We passed more and more people who commented and stared as we walked
along. I pressed the up button on the elevator and we waited for an
eternity for the doors to finally open, feeling the heat of eyes upon us.

Once doors opened, we stepped in and faced back out. As the doors closed,
Uncle Tate said, "That was something else."

"Is it weird if I say it was kind of...I don't know...exciting?" I asked,
purposely looking away as I spoke.

"You know what, Tommy, I think I agree with you," he said. I looked back to
him and he had his hands at his waistband. Pinching it, he pulled it out a
bit and let it snap back with a smack on his skin. "The tighty whities
twins."