This was becoming ridiculous. Not to mention uncomfortable.

I felt like a girl with a 34DD bust trying to squeeze into a 34A bra.

To put it politely, I’d outgrown the M&S briefs that Mum bought me 3 years ago when I was about 15. Part of problem was that ‘it’ just would not stop growing! A fat 6” soft and, when erect, a 9” monster I could barely get my hand around.

But it wasn’t just that. Being skinny, I had to wear a ‘small’, but why did they not realise that waist size doesn’t correlate to penis size?

Surely I couldn’t be the only bloke with a small waist / big dick combo? I just wanted well designed, stylish underwear that combined comfort and fit. Was that really beyond the whit of man?

A shopping trip was in order.

A new department store had just opened in town and Saturday morning found me descending the escalator into the basement, following the signs for ‘menswear’ and then through an arch to ‘underwear’.

I was greeted by a big open sales floor with a large collection of different brands and styles on display.

I started to browse. There were the usual Calvin Klein boxers and Jockey Y-fronts, but also brands I didn’t know: little thongs from Hom, sporty jocks from N2N and skimpy tangas from 2-xist.

One area had a video display, a rotating hologram of a bulging pouch overlaid with three-dimensional contour lines.

There was audio, too, as I got closer, a disembodied Californian drawl:

‘Our revolutionary 3D pouch, combined with new fabric technology, gives unrivalled support and comfort for the well-endowed.’

Intrigued, I took a closer look. They were sold in boxed packs of 3. The picture on the front made my eyes pop out. A swarthy, muscular man in his mid-thirties modelling a blue pair. They had tiny 1/4-inch sides but a huge front pouch that was filled and stretched by what was obviously an extremely large penis.

Suddenly, a voice at my side: “It’s a new range, sir, for those who find a normal pouch rather, shall we say, restrictive.”

I turned to see a handsome, tanned salesman in his early 40s, smartly dressed in a navy blue suit. It felt funny to be called ‘sir’ by someone older than my dad.

“Most so-called ‘new technology’ is just a marketing gimmick, but with this 3D pouch and amazing stretchy fabric, I think they’re really onto something. Perfect for gentlemen who are… well-hung.” He spoke the last words slowly, relishing them, and finished with a slight upward inflection, seemingly asking, ‘Are you that type?’

“What size are you?”

“Er, sorry, er, what?” I floundered.

“What waist size, sir?” a little giggle, and he gently touched my arm.

“Oh, sorry, yes, of course,” I blushed and had a chuckle too. “Twenty-eight.”

“Small then”, he said, picking a pack from the display. He softly took my elbow and steered me towards the back of the store. “Come and try them on.”

Round a corner, hidden from view, was a row of changing cubicles.

He led me to the furthest one away, flashed an enigmatic smile and handed me the box. “Take your time.” He pulled the curtain closed behind him as he left.

As I opened the packet, I realised my fingers were trembling with excitement. There were 3 pairs: blue, pink, and white. They were incredibly light and improbably tiny.

Am I even going to get these on?

I stripped. One end of the cubicle was a full-length mirror, and I looked at my naked reflection. Slim and toned from swimming, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and then ‘it’, hanging heavy and low between my legs.

I could feel my perineum starting to swell and the first delicious pumps of blood at the root of my cock as I wriggled into the white ones.

Virgin white, how appropriate.

The design was unusual. There was a circular elasticated opening at the entrance to the pouch. I grasped my genitals and pushed them through. The stretchy ring then tightened around the base of my cock and balls, which fell naturally into the gossamer-thin pouch. The fit was incredible. They were snug on the waist and tight on my ass, but the pouch took my huge penis and full young balls with ease. It was almost as if I wasn’t wearing anything, but actually the soft, stretchy material cradled and cosseted my giant package perfectly, allowing it to swell out proudly to its impressive natural size.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Oh fuuucckkk.

My bulge looked outrageous! Enormous, and growing bigger by the second as an unstoppable erection started to build.

Instinctively my fingers went up to my nipples, twisting and pulling as I watched the pouch grow to obscene proportions with the ever-increasing size of my cock.

I turned round to look at the rear view. The back was minimal, and a centre seam meant that what there was of it had disappeared into my deep ass crack.

I let my hand wander over the massive bulge. The material was so thin I could feel the heat of my cock, which was now a fat 8” and still growing, the front of these tiny undies stretching easily to cope with my size without pulling the waistband forward.

The salesman was right. They really were onto something here.

Swoosh. Suddenly the curtain flew back. He stepped through quickly and pulled it closed behind him.

“How are we getting on, sir?”

He looked me in the eye but then let his gaze drop down. I was rooted to the spot, tongue-tied. I looked down too. I was rock hard now and fully erect, my 9” stretching the wispy material to the point of being see-through.

“You certainly fill them out, young man. Let’s try you in another colour; I think you’ll look pretty in pink.” His voice had turned slightly effeminate.

My mouth had dried up; I couldn’t make a sound. He took the pink pair out of the packet and knelt down in front of me. I swallowed hard. My cock was now pointing skywards and gently bouncing in time with my pulse.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and then paused, looking up at me. A final check to make sure he hadn’t misread the vibe.

I bit my lip. He smiled and subtly widened his eyes.

Instead of simply lifting the waistband up and over the head of my cock, he kept it close to my body, pulling it down until he reached my root, and then kept pulling, dragging my big meat down from vertical to horizontal and then further downward, inch by inch, until 7” were exposed, and only my engorged mushroom-headed glans remained within the briefs.

He paused there for a moment and looked up at me again. My mouth had dropped open, and my head went back; the ecstasy was exquisite.

Finally, he freed me. It snapped back up, violently erect, and smacked into my taut young belly with a meaty ‘thwack.’

I heard him gasp. Then softly, in awe, “You’re so big” as he encircled the base of my balls with one hand and grasped the root of my cock with the other.

I hadn’t had any sexual experiences up to then, and there I was in a public changing room with a total stranger old enough to be my dad, his hands all over my cock and balls.

My hard-on was pounding, throbbing with an unbelievable intensity. Letting go of my balls, he held me with both hands, pulled me down to horizontal, another momentary pause, and my cockhead was in his mouth.

I’d heard other boys talk about getting ‘blow jobs’ from their girlfriends, but nothing prepared me for how wonderful it felt to have his mouth envelop me. The heat of him, the wetness, the swirling movement of his tongue around my sensitive tip—this was heaven!

Now he had me in his mouth, he moved both hands around to stroke my bum, pulling me onto him, into him. Three, four, five inches, and I felt my cockhead at the entrance to his throat.

His grip on my bottom tightened, drool was dripping down his chin, and he was making extraordinary slurping noises. He gulped, seemed to flex his throat in a special way, and then sank down to swallow me entirely. All 9” of my virgin penis buried in his windpipe. I held his head and started to fuck his face. He was gurgling and quacking, spurts of drool escaping as he gasped for air.

A demonic dominance came over me as I felt something building deep inside; a distant rumble of thunder warning of an impending storm. Of course I’d wanked a thousand times, but this was something totally different. Not just my cock ejaculating but a seismic vibration of every cell. A rising tide of ecstasy coming to an exquisite crescendo.

I increased the pace and started to cry out and scream that I was cumming, all thoughts of being discovered long forgotten as the pleasure bomb detonated at the base of my cock and the first fountain jet of my hot cum shot down his eager throat.

Still holding his head tightly, I unleashed another jet as my orgasmic spasms continued. A third copious burst of sperm was too much for him. He gagged and choked, and a great wad of my cream spurted out of his nose in an astonishing, obscene display.

I momentarily withdrew to let him catch his breath. I fired another forceful spout of seed into his eyes, painting his face with my cum. Startled, his mouth dropped open, and I plunged back into his throat and continued to empty my balls.

After a dozen mighty pumps, my orgasm abated, and eventually I released my grip on his head and inch by inch withdrew my throbbing meat.

He collapsed in a heap on the floor, dishevelled and drenched.

I picked up all three pairs of briefs, stepped over him, and left.

That summer I collected new undies every week - and never paid a penny.