Power boxers! Get a pair today!
Last night, as is my custom during the summer, I was sleeping in a pair of boxers. These were, in fact, a new pair of boxers. (They’re red, so you can picture them.)
Boxers are not at all like many other articles of clothing. For example, a pair of shoes. When you first buy a pair, even if they’re a hundred bucks, they’re stiff and tight and cramped. The only time shoes are comfy is after you’ve had them a few months, at which point they’re worn out in the shape of your feet.
Boxers, on the other hand, are at their best right after you buy them. They haven’t shrunk in the wash, they’re big and new, and they’re not just a rag like old boxers are. A new pair of boxers is something to behold.
So I was very happy last night when I went to bed. I was wearing new boxers! New, improved, red boxers!
But all good things must come to an end. Sometime after midnight, I woke to heed the call of nature.
For any women reading this, let me explain something. There are two methods of manhood-distraction for a man wishing to relieve himself, assuming we eliminate the footholes as a possibility. He can use the hole made for that purpose, often dealing with a zipper or button, or he can just pull the top of the boxers down. Since buttons and zippers require more coordination than I have at 1:30, I chose the latter method.
Unfortunately, even just pulling the top down was too hand-eye heavy. My fingers slipped, and the waistband of my boxers came briskly in contact with the two most sensitive part of my body, which are not my eyeballs. This is not to say that my eyeballs were not involved, as they were flying open and bulging out.
Never in my life have I felt such a powerful waistband. I’m surprised it didn’t disembowel me while I was asleep. Even when a soccer ball threatened to make a eunuch of me a few months ago, it was nothing compared to this.
Hence, from this day forth, I go commando.
