I have a strong fetish for soft white cotton Y-Front underpants, so when I discovered ‘Annette’s Knickers,’ and found that Rosemarie has white cotton Y-Fronts featured, I felt that I wanted to contribute my personal experiences about why such a seemingly less popular style of underwear plays such an important role in my life.
I am an apparently conventional, respectable business man, a partner in a small company, and happily married with two teenage children. At work I am used to being in charge, hiring and firing, making decisions, etc. At home my wife and I share all responsibilities and decisions along with the housework. She works full time as well, and we have always split everything equally, and very much enjoy the equality in our relationship.
However, like many people, I have an ‘occasional secret’, one that has caused me some guilt and worry in the past, but which in my mind is no threat to my marriage. My secret is that every so often I love to be a male submissive to a dominant female. When we lived together before we married I told my future wife all about this, and for some years until our first child was born, she went along with my interest, though she herself was not really into it.
The secret desire began as a simple wish to relive the spankings that I had experienced as a child. I was spanked by my mother. But I was also spanked by my aunt who looked after me while Mother was at work, and she treated me as she would her own son. These spankings were always given on my bare bottom either by hand, the back of a hair brush, or later as I grew older, with a leather strap.
It was when I was at university that I discovered an article in ‘Forum’ magazine about men who loved to be spanked, strapped and caned on their bare backsides, and on reading that and other articles, I suddenly realised the strength of my arousal from this subject. Accompanying this submissive urge is the strong desire to be dominated whilst wearing soft, white cotton, Y-Front underpants.
When I was growing up, all boys wore this type of pants or a slight variation on it because there was little else that was acceptable. Of course there were boxer shorts or trunks but these were what one’s Grandfather wore, or what American actors wore in films where they appeared without trousers, and any sightings of a male in his underwear was always in a comic scene. No self-respecting ‘modern’ male in the late 60’s would be seen dead in a style of underpants worn by his Granddad!
It now seems extraordinary that fashion has come full circle and the contemporary young male prefers the large sized pants and trunks.
The then modern garb was ‘briefs,’ and I put this in parenthesis because even the briefest were deep sided pants coming almost up to your belly button, – mother didn’t want you to catch a chill in your kidneys! It wasn’t until I was a teenager that the very daring idea of a ‘colour’ was introduced. It seemed to be an insipid pale blue, and as far as any red blooded male was concerned these would only be worn by a ‘Pansy’, but the style remained similar.
It was the new fashion for hipster jeans that began the demise of the ubiquitous Y-front, and this was partly because in 1967, (when I was just becoming a little fashion conscious), it was considered the height of ‘naffness’ to show the waistband of your underpants above your trousers. In fact any male would have been embarrassed to be seen in public in his underpants, and even in private it would have only been acceptable at intimate moments.
When I was about fourteen and had saved some money from my paper round to buy myself a pair of ice blue hipster jeans, I went shopping in a local store, and feeling very trendy, made my purchase. As I was about to leave I noticed a new and interesting arrival on the underwear counter. The pants were made of stretch nylon and were very skimpy fitting. They were displayed in black, royal blue and red. I still had enough money to afford one pair and I chose red, and then rushed home to try them on.
I was overjoyed, for now I could wear my jeans and not suffer the indignity of my underpants being visible above the waistband Not only that, but I was also wearing some of the very latest scarlet red briefs, – and they were brief!
As my school had a very strict uniform code, I could only wear such clothes in the evening or weekends, and as we were given large amounts of homework I rarely had time to go out in the evenings anyway. The uniform code even covered underwear, and white cotton briefs were stipulated. I hoped that these new trendy briefs would soon be produced in white so that I could wear something modern instead of the old fashioned Y-fronts.
During the next week whilst my class was changing for gym there was a babble of excitement in the changing room. One boy was wearing a pair of skimpy, royal blue pants, and not the regulation white ones! Everyone was amazed and thought that they were very trendy, but said that he had better not let the strict sports master see his flagrant flouting of the school rules. What he had forgotten was that our regulation list included white shorts, and the colour of his pants could be seen through them. It wasn’t long before the teacher shouted, “You boy! – come here! What are you wearing?”
When the lad admitted that he was wearing blue underpants, he was sent back to the changing room, and soon we could all hear the games master’s slipper being used with some vigour! When the boy came back, still in his white shorts, the offending blue was gone, but it was possible to just discern through his shorts, the red glow of his punishment. This was not as visibly red as his face was, especially when the teacher warned the rest of us not to come to school in ‘pretty coloured knickers that looked like a girl’s panties!’ There were hoots of derision from the class and I knew that I must keep my own new pants a secret, and would wear them only for my own satisfaction. It was only a few years later that most young men abandoned their Y-Fronts for modern slim fit, fly-less pants in their many different colours.
It was shortly after this that I met my first real girlfriend, Margaret, and was initiated into my first sexual experiences. Her parents usually went out on Friday nights, not returning home until late, and she was expected to baby-sit for her younger brother. I went to visit her every Friday, and once her brother was sent to bed we would cuddle up on the sofa. I always wore a nice pair of my modern pants, and now had them in several colours. It began as light petting of her breasts and slowly progressed to below her waist, and to her knickers! Soon I was regularly putting my hand up her skirt and feeling her stockinged thighs, and her lovely knickers! She was unfastening my trousers and rubbing me through my pants.
Eventually, whilst caressing and rubbing each other through our underwear, we would gradually pull each other’s pants off and usually managed to climax together.
One Friday I was invited to tea and had to go straight from school in my dreaded school uniform. Her mother was delighted that I was such a ‘nice, smart young man’ in my uniform, and Margaret was pleased that I had made such a good impression. As usual, her parents went out, and eventually little brother was put to bed so that we could get down to what really mattered. We cuddled and petted as usual, and eventually we reached knickers and underpants stage.
When Margaret exposed my pants, as usual, she was very surprised to see that I was wearing my regulation white Y-Front underpants. I was very embarrassed at her seeing me in them, explaining red-faced, that they were part of the regulation uniform at my school. Then she further embarrassed me by saying that her father wore the same type of underpants. It was at that point that my erection burst free and thrust itself into full display through my open fly. Margaret was excited, thrilled and fascinated, and very much enjoyed playing with my cock as it poked out through my white pants. She even insisted on bringing me to orgasm like that. Afterwards she enthusiastically spoke about the wonderful softness of my cotton underpants, and said that although she thought my modern colourful pants were nice, she really liked me in my white Y-Fronts. I was really thrilled at that, and I no longer felt embarrassed at the thought of her seeing me in them. From then on we were both more than excited because I was wearing my soft white cotton underpants during our Friday nights together.
When I left school I discarded all of my Y-Fronts, and bought enough different colours of skimpy briefs to wear them all the time. It was shortly after I had read the article in ‘Forum’ that I began to fantasise about being spanked on my bare bottom by an attractive female, and part of the fantasy was the vision of her pulling down my trousers to reveal a nice pair of soft white cotton Y-Front underpants. Eventually, in my fantasy, she pulled my pants down to reveal my very vulnerable, bare bottom.
Suddenly I decided I must have some white Y-Front underpants like those I had so much loved to wear as a boy, – but where was I to get them?
They were readily available from most department stores, and especially Marks and Spencer, but could I bear the embarrassment of actually picking up the pants and taking them to the checkout desk? In my thoughts, there was bound to be either a young female on the till who would see me buying them, and know that I was going to wear them, or a young modern man in trendy clothes and I could imagine the strange look I would get. Worse still, another young male who would grin with a knowing look, thinking that I may look trendy but when I got undressed for sex, any girl friend would discover that I was wearing a pair of underpants that my mother must have bought for me!
But I had to have them! So I gathered up my courage and went to M&S.
My hands were sweaty, and I was shaking with both embarrassment and sexual excitement as I approached the large displays of men’s underwear. At first I pretended to look at the most fashionable styles of men’s pants, but really I was furtively checking to see that no-one was around to watch me eagerly looking at the mannequins wearing a selection of white cotton underpants. When I seemed to be alone, I somehow managed to finger through the display of lovely, full-fitting, white cotton Y-Fronts until I found the ones that particularly appealed to me, and in the size I wanted.
Gathering them up, I moved reluctantly, but with some relief, away to pay for them. Not only was I trembling but I was also very erect! Fortunately I was wearing my usual tight briefs so it was not too evident. Next I checked the tills, and all was fairly quiet. Then I managed to make sure that I got to a middle aged lady who was serving at one of the end tills. I was conscious that not only was I shaking but that my cheeks were scarlet! Burning with embarrassment, I approached her, and as casually as possible I handed over my little bundle of underpants. She carefully spread out my pants on the counter, looked casually through them, and I started to relax as she didn’t seem to bat an eyelid.
But then I gasped and cringed in horror as, in a rather loud and cheery voice, she went through her routine of confirming that her customer had chosen the correct items and sizes.
“Men’s white cotton underpants, size – small,” she announced for all to hear!
Red faced and with my eyes lowered in humiliation, I quickly paid the lady for them, and trying not to look at anyone, I quickly left the store. Long before I got back home I was once again erect and thinking about trying on my new underpants.
As soon as I was on my own, I undressed, and with a full erection bobbing before me, I examined them closely. I trembled as I felt the softness of my pants and they smelt wonderful, too. With moist fingers I held their waistband open, and stepped carefully into them. Slowly I pulled them up and over my throbbing, aching erection, and arranged their smooth elastic waistband high on my naked body. I stared excitedly into the mirror, thrilled beyond measure at what I had at last done. My cock seemed to almost reach the plain white elasticated waistband of my lovely white pants, and I stroked it carefully for a while, trying to make sure that it did not explode into orgasm before I was ready.
Quickly I returned to my fantasy, and rubbed my hands over my buttocks. Soon I was trying to imagine how it would be if it was a woman who was rubbing her hands over my exposed bottom, exposed in only my new white cotton underpants. Then as I masturbated my rigid cock through them, I imagined that she was giving me a good, hard, smacked bottom. After a while she would fondle my underpants before slowly pulling them down to my knees. At that moment I exploded violently and dramatically, and my orgasm was so terrific and so shattering that I fell weakly to the bed. I took a surprisingly long while to recover from it, and I had christened my new underpants in such a way that I would never forget that amazing occasion in its full glorious detail.
That became one of my regular masturbation fantasies. Sometimes I kept my pants on and masturbated with my cock thrust proudly out through the fly front. But at other times I actually came into them, always a long and strength-shattering cum as I felt the hot sticky fluid spread over me and my lovely white pants.
At those times, my cock remained stiff in my underpants for several more minutes, and that seemed to increase my desire to enjoy my underpants masturbation sessions even more frequently.
I soon realised that I had a slight fetish about other styles of male underwear, too, and eventually wore all the different styles that I found comfortable – briefs, boxers and boxer briefs. My only criterion was that they must not be in any man-made fibre. I wore the fashionable styles for everyday wear. I reserved the pleasures of wearing my Y-Front underpants for those occasions when I was either planning a spanking fantasy, or because I found them just comfortable or comforting to wear. If I was feeling a little nervous or insecure, I found that I felt much more secure in my white Y-Fronts as long as I wasn’t going to be seen undressed. I didn’t tell any girlfriends about my underpants interests until I met the woman who eventually became my wife.
When I needed to move to London for my career she suggested that she would like to come too. It seemed only natural that I ask her to live with me and was delighted when she jumped at the chance. Our relationship was passionate and exciting and this was a natural progression. It was about a month after we had set up flat together that I began to feel that I must tell her about my secret desires, and it took a huge amount of courage. I decided I must be prepared, and with a little research I found a wide, flat-backed clothes brush which was smooth and perfect for spanking. I had already discovered that there was a shop in the West End that sold traditional school canes. Having bought the clothes brush and put it away in one of my drawers, I decided that I must have a proper swishy cane. I took a Friday afternoon off work, went home, and excitedly put on a pair of my white Y-Fronts. Then I headed for central London.
The shop, James Smith and Sons, in New Oxford St, is still a traditional old establishment and continues to sell every kind of gentlemen’s umbrellas and walking canes.
I was shaking with terror as I entered the unknown. Then I saw that a large selection of crook-handled school canes was kept in a special stand just inside the entrance door. My heart thumped as I quietly and carefully began to hold and examine each cane.
By the time an elderly gentleman assistant came over and asked if he could help me, I had made my choice of a mid-weight, highly flexible, rattan cane.
I didn’t know the terminology at that time, but was soon to learn. As confidently and calmly as possible I said, “I’d like this one please”.
Without batting an eyelid he replied, “Certainly sir,” and took the cane to the counter. There, he put it into a special, long, white paper bag which was about six inches wide at the top, (for the handle), and tapered to a point for the ‘punishment’ end! From his conversation I realised that he had assumed that I was a new young schoolmaster, and I didn’t disabuse him as it all seemed very discreet and proper.
Already trembling nervously in anticipation of the possibilities to follow, I was able to carry my purchase home without anyone knowing what it was.
That evening, after our meal together, I plucked up my courage and very carefully began to explain to my girlfriend that I had something to tell her about myself, something that I wanted her to know and that I would fully understand if she didn’t want to follow it through. I then explained to her about my desire to be spanked and caned occasionally as part of a sexual experience, and that the prospect of her doing such a thing to me was the most exciting and erotic fantasy that I could imagine.
She was rather quiet but not shocked or horrified, and simply said that she was relieved that it wasn’t anything awful as when I had begun to tell her she had worried that it was something serious. She asked me a few questions, and I told her about my love of my white cotton Y-Front underpants, and my desire for them to be part of my spanking fantasy. (I didn’t wear those pants all the time as I liked to be in fashion as well).
She remarked that she really liked the style and softness of my white cotton pants. I was so relieved that she had not reacted adversely, and that I had been able to confide my secret to her. It was an enormous weight off my mind, but I didn’t tell her about my exciting new purchases at that stage.
That night we made passionate love, and afterwards, in each others arms, she told me that she didn’t like the idea of hurting or punishing me, even if I wanted it. I answered that it wouldn’t actually be hurting me as it would give me so much inner pleasure, and instead of punishment it would actually be like a reward. She laughed at this and said, “My hand is not big enough to have much effect anyway”. I told her that I had already got a perfect spanking instrument in the flat-backed clothes brush, and that at the back of my wardrobe was a crook handled cane should she ever decide she wanted to use them.
All she said was “Don’t know about that”.
The next night was Saturday and we were meeting some friends for a meal and glass of wine. After a very enjoyable time were back at our flat reasonably early and sat cuddling on the sofa while watching a late film with a ‘nightcap’. As the film ended she turned to me and said, “I think it’s about time you got what you’ve been thinking of”.
I didn’t know what she meant and said, “How do you mean?”
“Go and get that clothes brush. You’re going to get what you’ve wanted for a long time”.
I was both astonished and excited.
“Are you sure?” I said.
“You’d better hurry up!” she said, smiling wickedly.
I was shaking as I rushed to the bedroom, quickly found the brush and was about to hurry back when I stopped. I took a pair of my beloved white Y-Front underpants from my underwear drawer and quickly changed from my fashionable brightly coloured briefs into those traditional, deep sided, soft cotton pants.
I was fully erect even before I pulled them up!
When I got back to the sitting room she was still on the sofa but sitting upright in the middle of the seat.
I came into the room and stood to her right hand side, handing the brush to her. She took it and weighed it in her hands, gently patting the flat back against her left palm. With a glint in her eye she ordered me to lie across her lap. When she was satisfied with my position, she slowly gave me a few slaps on each cheek. I could already feel it beginning to sting.
“Stand up” she ordered.
I wondered if perhaps she didn’t like it, and whether she would stop there and never go any further. But as I stood, she reached for my belt and began to undo it. “I think it’s time these came down,” she said.
As she pulled them down to my knees she saw my white pants. “Mmmm – very nice, very appropriate,” she said, approvingly.
Then I found myself back over her knee, and feeling incredibly vulnerable. She started to spank me with the brush again. This time it became harder as she improved her technique, and soon it really was stinging. I began to gasp, and flinch, and squirm. But she did not stop. My eyes were screwed tightly shut and I was beginning to moan pitifully.
At last she stopped, and I sighed with tearful relief. I felt her eyes on my underpants, and trembled with arousal. ‘She, too, likes my pants!’
Suddenly I felt her hands on their waistband. Moments later she started to pull them slowly, agonisingly slowly, down over my bottom! I gasped as she pulled them down to my knees, and almost started to plead for mercy! Then without warning she really hit my bare bottom with a vengeance, and it wasn’t long before I was really begging and pleading for her to stop.
(I actually have only a very average pain threshold and am unable to remain stoical during punishment, – definitely a bit of a sissy when I’m being spanked!)
She upbraided me on my yelps and pleadings, which only increased my humiliation, – not such a big strong man when his pants are down, and when he is getting his bottom well and truly smacked!!
By the time she finished I was almost in tears. When she told me to get up, I could only gasp, “That really hurt!” as I gently rubbed my bottom.
“You wanted your bottom smacked – and that’s what you’re going to get,” she said, as I pulled my pants and trousers back up. Amazingly I was still fully erect.
“Well you do seem to be enjoying yourself” she remarked, “now into the bedroom and find me that cane.”
“You can’t cane me after that,” I said.
She quickly retorted, “You’d better do as you’re told or I’ll give you even more”. From her tone and expression I knew better than to argue, and shuffled into the bedroom without fastening my trousers. I picked the cane from the back of my wardrobe and in a moment, handed it to her. She weighed it in her hands, and bent it to test its flexibility. “Nice and bendy,” she said. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take everything off except your nice white underpants, and bend over the bed.”
As if in a dream I did as I was told, – this was going to be the first time in my life I would feel the cane other than when I was at school! Having discovered that she could spank so hard, I was now shaking with terror, but nevertheless I did as she ordered.
She started immediately, and the sting of the cane on the thin cotton of my Y-Fronts took my breath away. I was instantly yelping, and soon making a lot of noise as she laid on several strokes of the cane.
She paused, thinking, and then she gave me four more strokes of that awful swishy cane. This time I cried out very loudly, twisting at each powerful stroke. She stopped abruptly, and then stood looking thoughtfully down at my underpants.
In a moment, she leaned down and slowly pulled my pants right down my legs. I almost panicked. She was going to cane my bare bottom. I didn’t even know how many strokes I was going to get, and I dare not ask! I tried to grit my teeth, but the first stroke was like being touched with a red hot wire, and I yelled and jumped up involuntarily.
“Bend over again, and don’t you dare move again or I’ll give you every one of them twice”.
Whimpering with fear and pain, I did as I was told. Even though I yelled and squirmed and twisted and turned in agony as she gave me six more strokes, I did not get up, although each one seemed harder as she got into her stride.
When she announced that it was over I was allowed to stand up, and stood vigorously rubbing my bottom. Amazingly, my cock was still proudly erect, and she began to kiss me passionately. Under her orders, I was soon thanking her for my punishment, and then she pushed me back onto the bed. There, she easily mounted me, and my cock sank stiff and deeply into her. She rode me hard and dramatically until she was fully satisfied. My bottom was on fire but it only served to increase the fire in my cock, and she made passionate love to me twice again that night, and again the next morning.
This was repeated, with variations, for the next four years, approximately once every four to eight weeks. It was usually at her instigation, and we continued until she became pregnant. Then sadly it all ceased.
After the birth I hoped that it would resume, but no matter how much I hinted or even suggested openly that it was time I got another spanking, she never seemed to be in the mood or willing to do it again, and eventually I began to feel that she just was no longer ‘into it’. I resigned myself to living without this desire being fulfilled again, even though the wish was still there, often on my mind.
It was after fifteen years that the longing seemed to strengthen within me, and despite my asking for my spankings to resume even on a very infrequent basis, it didn’t. So I began to seek relief with stories and pictures of spanking. I soon realised that this is a far more popular and common practise with all kinds of people than I had dared to imagine.
I eventually decided that I would consult a ‘professional,’ as my research had shown me that they often stipulated that no sexual contact would take place. If I found the right person, I was assured that they would make a good job of it.
My first lady was hopeless, and I almost gave up the idea. But I decided to try once more. This time I discovered a dominant woman who was not only good at giving spankings and canings, but she actually enjoyed it as well. She also fully understood my fixation with my white Y-Front underpants, and they featured very much in my punishment sessions. Every four to five months during the past few years I have taken a little trip to ‘The Headmistress’s Study’ to be spanked and caned. I have found that these sessions are able to satisfy my frustrations for I am always punished severely.
During the punishment session, she usually makes me undress to my soft white cotton underpants, which is always extremely humiliating for me. I am spanked and caned on them for a while. Then they are lowered down my legs, thus exposing my poor naked bottom to the swishing sting of her cane. She shows her own pleasure by her enthusiasm for punishing me very thoroughly on every occasion. My rampant erection clearly tells her that I am feeling the full benefit of her cane.
Later, the vivid memories of those sessions provide me with the excitement and mental stimuli that I need when I re-live them for an occasional ‘wank fantasy’.
(I still feel a little guilty, sometimes, but I know that these occasional forays do not provide any danger to my love and affection for my wife.
I still occasionally make a light-hearted suggestion that I sometimes ‘deserve to have my bottom smacked,’ just in case she changes her mind! Jamie.)
