Natalie finds a pair of his boxers

The apartment was quiet with the Saturday sun filtering in through the verticals as Natalie wandered through the hallway with a basket balanced on her hip She was wearing nothing but a loose, well-worn t-shirt and a pair of cotton bikini briefs. The state of dress she used to live in when no one else was around. A state of dress she hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy in weeks.

She hadn't realized how much she missed being alone, fully alone. There was no robe, no awareness of footsteps outside her door, or strategic towel placement. Just comfort in her own home, outside of the bedroom.

Aiden had gone off with friends to hang out, then was headed to a party that night, and maybe crashing somewhere else. He said he wasn’t sure; it depended on how the night went, but he’d grinned that lopsided grin and told her not to wait up.

She hadn’t planned to.

Stepping into the laundry nook, she pulled open the dryer, feeling the warm air rush out. It carried the scent of dryer sheets and hot fabric. As she transferred clothes into the basket, something in the corner caught her eye. She reached in and came up with a pair of Aiden’s boxer briefs.

They looked like they’d be snug, a vibrant red, and a smooth wicking material, but still structured. They looked... small, almost. Or maybe just tight. If he was as big as the blonde claimed, what would he look like in these?

At first, it was just habit. Toss it in. Keep moving. Fold, and put things away. But these didn’t belong with her clothes. As her fingers smoothed the waistband, her thumb brushed the inside seam and her mind filled in the rest.

She held them in her hand, assessing this part of him she didn’t know. Wondering what his choice in underwear said about him.

How they would cling. The way they’d stretch across his hips. The way the fabric would press against him when he moved. How they’d frame his manhood after everything she’d heard.

The sounds. The grunts. The slap of skin. The girl’s moans. Her own.

And the twenty-one-year old’s voice coming through sharp and breathless as it still echoed in her memory: “how are you this big” followed by slurping and gagging.

Natalie’s fingers curled tighter around the waistband.

That hadn’t been for show. She could still hear the awe in it her voice. It was high, almost giggly, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but escaped of its own accord. At first, Natalie wondered if it was performative, but the way the girl kept talking through little gasps and muttered comments about adjusting, it sounded real. Honest in a way you couldn’t fake.

And it lined up with the way his towel bulged that morning in the hall when she’d looked too long before disappearing into the bathroom with a quickening pulse. Her gaze dropped again to the underwear in her hand. Soft fabric, fitted cut. Intimate. It should’ve felt intrusive as she invaded a piece of his privacy, but it didn’t.

Having moved to her room, she sat on the edge of the bed still holding them. The basket was half-folded beside her. Crossing one leg over the other, she bounced her heel with energy she couldn’t quite identify.

The apartment was quiet. Only hers for now. No footsteps, no teasing voice. Just her and the imagined image of him that had started to live rent-free in the back of her mind.

Natalie brought them to her lap. This was stupid, yet she didn’t put them down.

She glanced toward the hallway, confirming again what she already knew. Still empty, still alone.

Then, with a soft exhale of nerves and excitement, she stood. Slid her thumbs into the waistband of her own underwear, shimmied them down, and stepped into his.

They were snug, leaving her an idea of how snug they must be on him. The fabric clung differently, higher on her hips than they’d ever sit on his. The pouch in front was empty for now, and felt obscene in the best way. A reminder of absence, but also potential.

Without thought, her eyes wandered toward the dresser. Only hesitating a moment, she stepped over and opened the drawer slowly, the worn hum of wood against wood oddly loud in the quiet apartment. Her fingers curled around the base of the same toy from days ago when she emulated what she pictured happening in his room. The one she’d used with Lisa once.

It was clean and tucked beneath her delicate lingerie. There was a cool touch to it. She brought it out, gauging its shape and size. Then she carefully pressed it into the pouch of his underwear, pushing it down deep. The fabric stretched in front of her, taut and tented and unmistakable.

She turned slightly toward the mirror, tilting her hips, studying the way it looked. How big it looked. Her eyes followed the line it created and the way it pointed slightly upward toward her navel. It rose higher than she expected, the tip brushing close to the waistband. The way it sat against her was almost absurd looking at the prominent phallus sitting inside the men’s underwear she’d put on.

Even though she knew it wasn’t real, the visual was. The size of it against her frame as opposed to what something similar would look against him. She shifted it diagonally toward her hip, testing the angle, the shape beneath the fabric. It still looked large and obscene, like something kind of comical by comparison to her.

And then a thought struck. What if he was bigger?

Her breath caught at the idea. It wasn’t just a tease now, but a genuine question. One that sent a slow familiar flutter low in her belly.

No wonder Kim had sounded like that.

Her t-shirt barely skimmed the top of the waistband. The underwear clung to the toy as it pressed forward, full and heavy in the front.

Out of curiosity, she shifted it straight up again, adjusting the base upward. Just a bit more guesstimating where it would sit if it actually were hers.

It pointed straight toward her navel now, fully reaching her belly button. Her breath caught at the idea of it. Was that how deep he’d reach? She thought for a split second. No, her entrance was lower, but still. When she used the toy, she had to have some length to grip, but him… he could push in to the hilt, settle as deep as he’d reach, or her body would allow.

She didn’t know his size, but she knew how he looked in a towel. She’d seen hints of him in sweatpants, the vague outline on quiet mornings when he stumbled out of his room half-asleep. More than that, she knew the sounds.

She’d seen the woman he’d brought home, still fresh in her head.

Petite, pretty, and not exactly shy. Natalie had heard the struggle in her voice. The breathless laughter. The not-even-trying-to-hide-it wonder in her words.

If she could take it...

Natalie blinked, thighs pressing just slightly together as she adjusted her weight. Her hand lingered at the top seam of the waistband, letting her thumb slip just beneath it to measure how close to the top it was, as it rubbed the tip of the toy.

She didn’t move. Just assessed the curve and stretch. The quiet ache and throb building in her.

And she wondered how was she supposed to go back to folding laundry after this?

She stayed like that for another moment, studying everything as it sat against her. The heat between her legs pulsed in time with her breathing. She could already feel the fabric dampening between her legs, her own body succumbing to her thoughts..

She swallowed hard, finally easing it out with care. Her hand brushed the front of the underwear, fingertips grazing the evidence of what was missing in the pouch, before noticing in the mirror how they started to darken just below, between her thighs.

The briefs were no longer clean. She should toss them into the washer. She should add detergent. Scrub out the proof.

But instead… she hesitated.

Her fingers pressed against the front, settling the fabric where her toy had just been. But as she reached the base of the pouch, her hand continued on its own. Finding its way to her mound for just a moment. Pressing the cool fabric into herself. She didn’t linger, and quickly moved back up, folding the waistband down slightly. One slow breath came after the other.

And then she walked them back to the laundry closet, folded them neatly and set them on top of the dryer for him to collect later.

Let him wonder, if he even noticed, she thought.

She tugged her shirt down a little, though it didn’t cover anything, and headed back toward her room with her heart still thudding, and her legs still a touch unsteady. She didn’t look back, but the smirk on her lips said everything, if anyone had been around to see.

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