A neighbor across the street, on the third floor, is in the habit of wandering around his semidark apartment naked. Twilight time, morning or evening. The first smoke of the day and the last are enlivened by his ghostly moonlightlike glow from high above. Because of the angle I cannot see his groin, which I didn't want to anyway.
Maybe he's wearing boxer shorts or briefs.
I am not interested in his underwear either.
My only curiosity about underwear is about my own -- is it comfy? -- and possibly yours, same question. If you are a woman, your undergarb very likely isn't as comfortable as mine.
Baggy boxer shorts, coloured tee-shirt. No, I shan't offer to trade.
Women's underwear might be too constricting.
It often is.
Not that I have very much experience with that. Or any at all for the last eleven plus years. So it's quite hypothetical, and based on the glimpses I've caught of panties and bras for sale at stores which I've passed. Or in rock videos of which I've accidentally seen a bit.
My earliest exposure to women's undergarments was grainy grey line drawings in the Sears catalogue between furniture and holiday chocolates. Highly engineered form-shaping support habiliments which I believe very old women still wear. A layer of scientifically designed fabric with just enough stretch and firmness that, hypothetically, a person who ate too many of the holiday bon bons could sit in the featured furniture without showing peculiar bulges.
I've always been aware of the need to hide peculiar bulges.
For many women, it is a keenly felt need.
They have bulge awareness.
"Does this make me look bulgy?"
I don't know. Do you want it to?
If I were magically transported to a womens' locker room, I would observe everything around me with a scientic eye. It would be a learning experience. For everyone concerned.
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