The joy of wearing panties

A few years ago, I chanced on a report on the BBC World Service about men wearing women’s underwear. I immediately pricked up my ears, because I derive great pleasure from wearing panties every day. Sadly, the BBC report was a let-down: the person they interviewed was a drag queen, who waxed lyrical about women’s clothes in general. There was nothing about your average bloke, outwardly respectable, wearing women’s underwear under his trousers. It would have been so easy for them to find potential interviewees – a brief search on Fetlife would do the trick – and I would have found it much more interesting to learn about ordinary men, especially ordinary heterosexual men, who secretly wear knickers underneath their usual “male” clothes. 

 

I actually started out wearing my partner’s underwear because I liked the constrictive feel around my cock and, especially, my balls. The lack of a pouch meant that I could always feel the knickers pressing me in. It was only gradually that I moved on to the delights of thongs:

 

  

I had tried wearing thongs and other underwear bought in some of Berlin’s many gay shops, but they’re not the same as women’s thongs. The best panties for me are very simple and cheap, made of cotton, often in lovely bright colours (pink, light blue, purple), e.g. from shops like C&A. The fact that they leave my bottom bare under my trousers, and are stretchy enough to accommodate my cock and balls, is so nice. The material is thinner than that of men’s pants. And no-one apart from me knows I am wearing them. Who could resist that temptation?

 

Ironically, once, when trying to purchase underwear in Ulla Popken not for myself, but for my partner, I was shunned by the shop assistants, who seemed to assume that I was some kind of pervert. That suggests to me that other men also purchase knickers for their own use. But despite listening to the BBC report, I am still none the wiser as to whether I am a member of a small minority, or as to how prevalent the custom is.