Disclaimer: This is an installment in what will become a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for adults over the age of 18 (21 in some areas) and contains depictions of homosexual (m/m) acts. If this content does not interest you, or if you are under the legal age in your area, please leave immediately. That said, if you meet these requirements then welcome!

Author's Notes: I've had this idea running around in my head for quite some time now. This will be the first work of erotic fiction I've ever attempted, so I ask that you bare with me. The concept is actually loosely-based around a fantasy of mine which incorporates a few of my fetishes, primarily: white briefs (tighty-whities, specifically of the Hanes variety), piss, light BDSM, role-play and a few other kinks that might come up. I hope you enjoy this and that you look forward to reading the continuations that will be released. As a writer I always value feedback and talking to others who share my fetishes - particularly my underwear fetish. Any responses can be sent to gayhanesbriefs@hotmail.com.



To any outsider looking at Jeff Brunum he would appear decidedly unremarkable as he walked down the street, hands in his pockets, gaze cast downward. Yes, if there was one thing to be said about Jeff Brunum it was that he knew how to blend into a crowd even if there wasn't a crowd to blend in to. It was a skill learned of repeating this routine nearly everyday for five years. It is often said that it takes ten thousand hours of doing something to become a master of it and if there was one thing that he was a master of, thought Jeff, it was this.

His wardrobe had been carefully planned on this occasion, just as it was every other time he strolled down this road. The thirty-one year old had a sculpted face, topped with short-cropped, tousled, golden hair, which sat atop a broad pair of shoulders and a chiseled chest that Jeff had covered with a plain Hanes white t-shirt. A pair of black basketball shorts disguised his muscular thighs and gave way to his well-defined calves. His large feet were adorned simply with a pair of worn but well-kept tennis shoes. He could be quite the imposing figure when he desired to be, assisted by his more-than-average height. Standing six feet five inches, he was quite the stud.

Jeff raised his head slightly to see how far he had progressed down the street. He was approaching his destination far quicker than he would have liked to but having resigned himself to his fate many years ago he pressed on. As he neared the location he had chosen for today Jeff dug his phone out of his pocket and began to open the camera application. He surely wouldn't have been using a phone as nice as this one if he hadn't found himself in this particular situation so perhaps this dreaded task was a small price to pay for the luxuries that he was afforded.

Finally finding his mark, Jeff leaned up against a tall black light pole and faced the nearly deserted street. He began to record with the video mode of his phone and tried to relax all of his muscles. As a familiar sensation began to wash over him he silently remarked at how some people found this simple task quite difficult in much more private places than Jeff's current locale.

As the sensation began to intensify Jeff looked discretely up and down the street and finding it as empty as he could possibly hope for he hooked his free hand into the waistband of his basketball shorts and pulled it forward to reveal a stark white pair of Hanes briefs with a growing patch of yellow spreading from the place where Jeff's penis rested. He adjusted his pelvis so that the sunlight would shine more brightly on it to allow for a clearer picture of the piss-soaked tighty-whities on the video. He heard the sound of a car approaching and quickly cast his vision down towards the cement hoping that whoever the driver was wouldn't recognize who he was or what he was doing.

When the car passed and didn't turn around Jeff released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. After five years of repairing this process nearly every day it was a wonder that the entire city didn't know that Jeff wet his briefs daily in public. Setting these thoughts aside and deciding that his bladder had finally emptied itself, Jeff released his shorts and set them back in their proper position while saving the file on the camera. He turned and began to walk back up the street praying with every step that the dark color of his shorts would keep anyone from noticing his urine-soaked underwear on the two mile trek back to the place he called home.


End Part One

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