Summer day

I stood by the gate, leaning back against the sun-warmed wood, the breeze coming off the field and over me, surrounding me with the sweet smell of meadow-grass. Across the road the river slipped by, cool and dark, shimmering with a thousand tiny sparkles across its surface. You were wearing a pale buttermilk dress, with narrow straps over the shoulders, a flared skirt, and low-cut front.

You pressed against me, and you could feel the hard line of my shaft, flat against my belly, and you slid it up and down against your navel. As you put your arms around my neck and pushed your tongue into my mouth, my hand wandered down to your dress, pushing between your legs and feeling your soft pussy through the creamy yellow material.

I hitched your skirt up at the front, and found your pussy again with my roaming digits, pushing them through your soft hair and between your slippery wet lips, as you lifted your foot out of your strappy sandals and rested it next to me on the bottom rung of the gate. We stood there like that with the sunshine beating down on us and the boats passing by, holiday-makers sleeping and drinking and laughing as I fingered you. Your cunt oozed onto my fingers and your thighs ran wet with your own pleasure.

And then, you dropped to your knees, and pulled me free from my shorts, and took me in your mouth. Your finger and thumb around the base of my thick shaft, you guided me between your lips, and sucked and licked me, tongue running from my balls to my tip, deep-throating me. As your head bobbed back and forth, faster and faster, I leaned back against the mottled wood and raised my face to the blue sky. I could feel the saliva running down my balls and dripping off them onto your dress, as your lips moved faster over my cock and my climax began to boil up within me.

And then I came, hot thick seed flowing out of me, covering your tongue, filling your mouth, sliding down your throat. You swallowed it down, licking your lips and my cockhead, and then, after carefully replacing my shorts over my still firm shaft, stood up in front of me, straightening your skirt and looking forlornly at the knee-marks around the hem.

Slipping your sandal back on, you started to climb the gate, and I dropped my face from the blue sky and turned to you, glancing up at your bare bottom beneath your skirts for a split second before you jumped into the long grass on the other side. As you began to stride off at an angle from the road, away towards the trees and away from the glare of the public, you began to unzip your dress, and one strap dropped off your shoulder, revealing your naked back.

I put both hands on the top bar of the gate, and hoisted myself up, jumping over and setting off behind you.

Six Word Memoir

The inimitable Marianne tagged me with this meme. Unfortunately, all and sundry appear to have been tagged already, so I will act like a spoilt child and not tag anyone. However, if you feel you’ve missed out and want to join in, let me know and I’ll add a link to you as if I’d tagged you in the first place.

But the crux of the game is this – describing myself in six words. I shall give two suggestions for my memoir, the first of which is a little self-indulgent and attention-seeking, not to mention optimistic:

Finally overcame enforced celibacy, died happy.

The second, more accurate and a little self-deprecating (not to mention over-indulgent and slightly cheating through the use of hyphens):

Compulsive self-serving liar, masturbated too much.

HNT #5

Paradoxically, an HNT without a single millimeter of exposed flesh. But, ironically, exposing more of myself than previous HNTs. The world is constantly a dichotomy.

In Conference (alternate version)

You’re still in your office when I arrive, and your assistant asks me to take a seat. “She’ll be free shortly”, she says. Although it’s late, she knows I have to see you urgently, as the project we’ve been working on for the last two years is absolutely key to the business. I sit, watching her work through her final jobs for the day. Every couple of minutes she looks up, obviously nervous that am staring at her pretty face, not quite sure what to make of my attention. Subconsciously she flicks her hair behind her ear and adjusts her collar.

The phone rings and she picks it up, says “yes” a couple of times, and then hungs up. “She’s busy right now”, she tells me, stepping up from her chair and gesturing towards the door, “the tele-conference is still on but she asked you to go in if it’s urgent”.

As I stand, I notice the line of her eyes dart towards my lower half. There is no disguising the taut tent that has formed in my loose suit trousers; she coughs and looks away as I catch her eye, but I see her gaze drawn back to my groin when I put my hands in my pocket and draw the material tighter to exaggerate the effect. I say nothing, matching her stare until I reach your office door and am about to push through it. Then I pause.

“It’s probably best if I don’t disturb her, actually. I know how important this call is. I’ll catch up with her tomorrow.” The assistant looks at me, slightly forlorn. I notice how pretty she is, soft green eyes behind stylish spectacles, strawberry blonde hair tied back in a loose pony-tail, and neat knitted twin-set, beneath which a the swell of her pert breasts is very apparent. I can feel my erection hardening as I talk to her.

“Okay,” she replies, “would you like me to slip you into her tomorrow?”. Then she blushes, a hot crimson flush reddening her cheeks. “I…I mean slip you into her schedule, of course”. I smile and say nothing immediately, enjoying her nervousness in a slightly predatory way. After a few seconds, she begins to shuffle papers, waiting for my response so I give in to her; “yes, that would be great, any time tomorrow morning. Thank you”. Her relief is obvious, she leans forward and looks across the diary for a space, absent-mindedly rolling the pen across her bottom lip as she contemplates the best time, and I study her glistening lips. She jots the appointment down, and then looks up at me questioningly. “10:45, will that be okay?”. I barely hear her, for where the gape of her top hangs down, she has presented me with a perfect view of her soft chest and lacy black bra. I can just make out the darkness of a hard nipple contrasting against her pale skin in the dim light, and…was that the gleam of silver there? My trousers surge with blood, and I adjust my stance fractionally. Her eyes flick down and back up as my mind wanders for a second or two.

“Will that be okay for you?”, she repeats the question, and my mind springs back into life. This time it is me feeling the heat in my cheeks, and I see that she hasn’t moved; the corner of her mouth upturned in the hint of a smile, eyes glinting. “Perfect. Exactly what I want”, I confirm, only half-referring to the appointment.

I break her gaze, and walk over to collect my coat and bag, and then step towards the door. I notice she is collecting her things too, and raise my eyebrows. “Are you leaving too? I’ll walk you to your car”. It’s a statement, not a question, and precipates no response; after closing down her computer and taking her handbag, she heads towards the door.

Out in the corridor, she leads the way, and I follow, admiring the swing of her hips under her pencil-skirt, her shapely slender legs striding confidently ahead. We head straight past the lifts and into the stairwell; she makes no excuse as to why we’re going this way, and I don’t question it. We start to canter down the stairs – turning at each flight, striding across each landing, and I’m almost running to keep up.

Then suddenly, on the third flight she stops and turns and I almost run into her, bumping against her and pushing her back slightly. In an instant, her lips are on mine, and her hand dives straight for my groin, cupping and gripping the hardness within my trousers. My tongue pushes into her mouth, and as her fingers find me and wrap around my shaft, my own hands are slipping up inside her top.

She starts to rub my crotch, trailing fingers up and down my length which lies flat against my stomach. Our tongues entwine, tasting, exploring, pushing into each other, as my hands reach her chest. She shrugs off the cardigan and lets it fall to the floor, and I push the thin-strapped top up and over her breasts, exposing the black bra covered in lace and patterns. I can see now it’s half-cup and balconied, which is why I got such a good view in the office before, so when I pull the cups down her nipples spring free, dark and hard, and with a single ball of shining chrome protruding from either side, pushing eagerly against my warm hands and between my lips as I begin to suck and lick them. I flick the metal with the tip of my tongue, and feel waves surge through her body.

I push her back against the stairwell wall, and shove my leg between her knees, forcing them apart. Her skirt rides up and she pushes herself down onto my thigh, and I can feel the coolness where she is wet already. Her hands are working on my trousers, unbuckling my belt and slipping it through the loops of my trousers with a soft hiss, and then casting it away, before opening the button and slowly, deliberately drawing my fly zip down, following the line of my shaft. And then, as I kiss her neck and chest, running my tongue across her from nipple to nipple, she pulls my trousers and boxers down and my cock springs free.

Immediately, her hands are on me, cool slender fingers wrapping around my length, cupping my balls, caressing and stroking me. As she rolls back my foreskin, she rubs my tip with her thumb and my knees tremble, and she pushes me round with her mouth, turning me as she kisses me, pushing me back against the wall, before dropping to her knees. And then I’m in her mouth – hot, wet lips slipping along my length, tongue dancing on the underside of my shaft, tickling and licking, flicking and caressing.

She deep-throats me, her head diving in towards me bumping against my pelvis, my whole fat length pushing against the back of her throat. I can feel her controlling the gag as the bubbles of saliva build up across my shaft and ooze down to my scrotum, dripping off my balls and onto her tits as she sucks and licks me. Then her hand is around my cock, wanking me and stroking me slowly as she takes my balls wholly into her mouth, rolling them across her tongue. She pulls my trousers down further, around my knees, and then takes my throbbing erection back in her mouth, while her hands work up my shirt, flicking the buttons apart and roaming through my soft, thick chest hair. And then, as I feel a surge in my belly, she draws her lips slowly off my cock, leaving it with a tender teasing kiss as she works up across my belly with her lips and tongue.

She flicks off her top, and casts aside her bra, and then kisses a trail across my abdomen and up to my shoulder, and then as she thrusts herself against me, hard points of her pierced nipples pressed against my chest, she whispers in my ear. “I think I can slip you into me now”. And then she turns around, bends forward and puts both hands on the stairwell ballustrade, pushing her feet apart and waiting. I don’t delay, and as I step forward she’s already pulling her skirt up over her bottom, presenting it to me. I slip my hand between her legs and feel the softness of her pussy through her panties, pushing them aside and slipping my fingers between her warm, soft lips. I run my fingertips along her slit, feeling how engorged she is, wet and open, she presses her hips down, forcing me up inside her. Then I push her feet further apart, dropping her bottom to the right height and opening her wide for me. “Stop playing”, she moans under her breath, “just fuck me”.

I draw my hand back across her sex, spreading her juices over her and then slip my palm across my glans, which shine under the dim flourescent lighting of the stairwell. With a thumb and forefinger around the base of my shaft, and a hand holding her hip, I nudge my cockhead against her dripping cunt, and then slide it firmly into her depths until her firm arse is pressed against my thighs. I hear the hiss of breath from between her lips, and then she grips the bannister harder, and begins to rock backward and forward, fucking herself with my cock as I stand motionless. Her skirt rucked around her waist, her thong drawn to the side and her stiletto’d feet spread wide, and my thick hot glistening shaft slipping in and out of her tight little cunt.

As she rocks back and forth, her pony-tail swishes across her bare back and I grab it, yanking her head back, pulling her onto my cock with her hair until she cries out. Then my hand is on her face, fingers in her mouth and she bites down onto me, the pain surging through my arm, mixing with the sensation as her muscles grip and squeeze my thrusting shaft. My other hand snakes around under her, cupping and kneading her breast, squeezing and twisting the metal through her hard nipples, thumbing and flicking it sending shockwaves through her body. She sucks and licks and bites my fingers, while my roaming hand finds her pussy, rubbing through the soft hair and slipping between her lips, just an inch from where my thick cock slides in and out of her eager cunt, and I find the nub of her clitoris, my digits pushing and rubbing it, sending tremors through her body as she begins to reach her crescendo.

Our rhythm builds up speed, and then she ducks her bottom down, slipping me out of her, before turning to face me. She climbs up onto the crossbar of the railings, and with both hands apart to steady herself, she spreads herself wide and open for me, her skirt up over her thighs around her hips. I stare for a second, she is vulnerable, balanced on the banister, open and waiting eagerly for my cock, knickers pushed aside and dark triangle of hair glistening with droplets of her juices. I push to her, rubbing my cockhead across the soft hair of her pussy, and she rolls her hips back, urging me into her. As I slip in to the hilt, her long legs wrap around me and her ankles cross behind me, and she lifts herself, raising and lowering her hips onto my cock harder and faster. My thrusts meet hers with a slap and my balls swing into her bottom, each one harder than the last, and my mouth roams her chest, sucking and licking her breasts, nibbling on her skewered nipples and sending shivers through her.

Finally, as the muscles shudder and spasm around my cock, I feel my stomach knot and my balls tighten, and she feels my orgasm approaching she wriggles her hips back and forth faster and faster, milking it out of me, drawing my climax up from my very core.

And then it hits me. My first spurt filling her cunt with hot, smooth thick come. I pull out of her, and she pulls me to her again, pressing the base of my shaft against her pussy, my cock pushing up from between her lips. As my muscles squeeze again, the second stream of spunk trails across her breasts, leaving a thick white trail across her stomach and skirt. A third and fourth spray covers her belly, and then I am spent, the remnants of my seed oozing out from my cock tip and running down over my head and into her pussy.

She grips me around my hips with her legs as my erection starts to subside, and I swirl the mess into her skin, making patterns in my come across her stomach and tits. She runs her hand around her belly, scooping up my spunk and licking it off her lips, smiling naughtily at me as she swallows it down. We pause, not moving, savouring the moment before finally she slips down and drops her feet to the floor. I begin to button my shirt and trousers, and she wipes herself down with her top, straightening her underwear and then pulling her discarded cardigan over her shoulders and buttoning it up.

I collect her bra and pass it to her, and we begin to walk down the last flight of stairs before we head across the car park to our respective cars, saying nothing. Just before she closes her door, I call out to her, “better change that appointment tomorrow – make it last thing, just before the office closes”.

“Already decided”, she says, closing the door, before we start our engines and head off in our respective directions.

In conference

You’re still in your office when I arrive, and your assistant asks me to take a seat. “She’ll be free shortly”, she says. Although it’s late, she knows I have to see you urgently, as the project we’ve been working on for the last two years is absolutely key to the business. I sit, watching her work through her final jobs for the day. Every couple of minutes she looks up, obviously nervous that am staring at her pretty face, not quite sure what to make of my attention. Subconsciously she flicks her hair behind her ear and adjusts her collar.

The phone rings and she picks it up, says “yes” a couple of times, and then hungs up. “Please go through”, she tells me, stepping up from her chair and gesturing towards the door, “the tele-conference is still on but she asked you to go in”.

As I stand, I notice the line of her eyes dart towards my lower half. There is no disguising the taut tent that has formed in my loose suit trousers; she coughs and looks away as I catch her eye, but I see her gaze drawn back to my groin when I put my hands in my pocket and draw the material tighter to exaggerate the effect. I say nothing, matching her stare until I reach your office door and push through it. The door clicks behind me.

You are sitting at your desk, in a large office chair, facing away from me. Your feet are on the window-sill, and the phone wedged under one ear, spiralled cord stretched around the side of the seat. I walk over and sit on the desk behind your chair, and touch the hair at the back of your neck. You barely react, intent on the conversation, so I push my hands onto your shoulders and begin to massage them.

You continue to listen, engrossed, as I lean forward and push my hand down inside your blouse, and you swat me away, trying to concentrate on the conversation and not get distracted, but I can see you smiling in the reflection in the window. When I push my hands further down, tracing the line of your bra-strap, you grab my wrist with your free hand and try to lift it back up, but as soon as my fingers slip inside the cup and brush your nipple, I can feel the battle is already lost. I pinch your hard, pink bud between my thumb and fore-finger, twisting it gently, and see the subconscious movement as you drop deeper into your seat, sliding your hips forward.

Suddenly, the silence is broken and you are speaking, your dry cracked voice taking a couple of words before it is really audible. Immediately your mind is back onto the conversation, drawn back to reality by the surge of adrenalin as you try to concentrate on the information you are imparting to your colleagues.

I slip off the desk, and take two steps around your seat, dropping down to sit on the edge of a low table that sits between your chair and the window. With a sweep of my hand I push the pile of magazines, files and stationary off the table and onto the floor, and then slide along so I’m comfortably seated below and in front of you. As you talk, I lift your right leg up and over my head, and place it on the window-sill to my left, so that I am sitting between your feet, looking up at you. You frown back to me, trying to scold me like you don’t want what’s coming next to happen.

You are wearing a dark suit, jacketless, with a white blouse. I can see the line of the white lacy bra through the translucent material, your chest rising and falling as you continue to talk. Your legs are stocking-clad, and from my vantage point I can see up your skirt, into the darkness there, with just a brief hint of your pale thighs visible before the light diminishes. I lean forward and, without touching you, let out a deep warm breath between your legs. I sense the shudder run down your back as you feel my hot beath flowing between your thighs and over your panties, the moistness in them cooling against your skin with the air movement.

When my hand touches your leg at the hem of your skirt, you’re halfway through a sentence about equity and collateral; you stop momentarily, losing your train of thought as I begin to slip your skirt up towards your hips. You drop your head back, looking up to the ceiling and away from me, but I sense a perceptible movement as your knees move fractionally further apart.

Both of my hands are on your hips now, bunching your skirt up and rucking it around your waist. As I reveal your stocking-tops and milky white thighs, I see you’re actually in hold-ups, wide bands of lace around the top just how I like them. Was that a pre-emptive decision, or just optimistism on your part? No matter, for now I have exposed the front of your knickers, silky satin boyshorts, tight-hugging but sheer, showing every curve, dip and mound across your pelvis, revealing a small dark triangle as they disappear down between your legs.

I run my finger across the flimsy patterned material, sending another shiver through your body, and increasing your breathing rate. You’re listening now, I can sense the relief as you hold the receiver away from your face so your heavy panting can’t be heard by the others on the call. Then I hook my fingers into the thin band of elastic around your waist and slip them down. As they drop down behind your bottom, you put your elbows on the armrests and lift your hips momentarily off the seat, until I’ve flicked your panties down onto your thighs, and then you settle back down, arse noticeably closer to the edge of the seat, and hips rolled back. You briefly lift your legs up and I draw the knickers along them before dropping them off your toes and casting them onto the floor. You lower your feet back to the sill, wider apart this time, knees dropped away from one and other, exposing your pink sex to me as your spread your legs.

You begin to talk again, going over technicalities, and roll your pelvis back, offering yourself to me, as if in a challenge. I push my face between your thighs and, with precise timing, lick the length of your labia just as you start reeling off figures. You’re wet already, and as my tongue runs across your lips, your delicious juices gather and run down into my throat. Admirably, you don’t miss a beat, voice not fluttering as you continue your explanation – except for a slight gasp as you draw breath mid-sentence. By the time I’ve buried my face deep into your pussy and begin to vigorously feast on your sweet cunt, you’ve finished speaking and let somebody else continue.

I’m thrusting my tongue in and out of you now, my hard warm mouth muscle wriggling and flicking deep inside you, fucking you and tasting you. I slip a finger into you, then two and start to hand-fuck you as I drive my tongue onto your clit, the tip tracing around the tight hood, pushing it back and flicking your hardening bud.

Still holding ythe receiver, you unbutton your blouse with your free hand, letting it drop to your sides as you flick the last button open. Your chest rises and falls slowly inside your bra, soft, small and firm, hard nipples pushing against the lace, straining to be touched. My tongue races over your flesh, still devouring your sopping slit while my other hand snakes up and flicks the strap off your shoulder, dropping the cup and exposing the full swell of your gorgeous breast. I take it in my hand and begin to squeeze and knead it, flicking your roseate nipple with my thumb in the same rhythm as my tongue slides between your dripping labia.

You’re moaning now, and you reach behind the chair and punch the mute button on the ‘phone, before dropping your hand onto my head and pulling my face hard into your pussy. As my tongue wriggles and squirms in your hungry cunt, I’m smothered with your sex, gasping for breath and then driving harder and harder, desperate to taste your depths. I can feel my cock straining at my trousers, pulsing and surging, a cool spot at the tip where I’m already oozing come. But this is about you, not me, and I ignore it for now, concentrating on bringing you closer and closer to the height of pleasure that I know you’re approaching.

All four of my fingers are fucking you now, my thumb massaging your thigh, my tongue lashing and writhing around your clit, and shudders are starting to surge through your body. Each twist and flick of your nipple causes you to spasm, and you wrap your legs around my shoulders, crossing your ankles on my back and lifting your hips, forcing me harder into your desperate cunt. And then, as my tongue builds up to a frenzy, flickering between your clitoris and your hole, my fingers driving in and out of your cunt, and my hand squeezing your breasts harder and firmer, you come, crying out and holding still, almost breaking my neck as your legs crush my head. You shudder and shiver, and my mouth is filled with your juices, I swallow them down eagerly. Wave after wave of intensity and orgasm rushes through your body, heightening and raising your hips higher and higher until finally you slump, exausted, legs dropping apart, hand slipping down beside the arm of the chair.

I sit up, grinning, mouth and cheeks glistening with your exertions. I gently massage your pussy, sweat saliva and cunt-juice mixed into your soft downy hair. You try to speak, voice husky and dry, realising you’re still muted and punching the button again to complete the pleasantries before the call ends. You drop the receiver on your lap, and look at me – smiling and frowning at the same time.

“Bastard”

“Yes”, I agree. “Did anyone notice?”, to which you shake your head. “Good”, I respond, finger still gently making circles on your navel. I stand up, and begin to unzip my trousers. As I free my thick, hard cock, and begin to stroke it, you settle down into the chair and spread your legs wider for me.

The phone begins to ring, but you ignore it, letting the receiver drop off the chair where it hangs, turning gently as the cord unwinds, as I hold the base of my shaft and move between your thighs…

How you find me

I had a look at the search terms used to find my blog for the first time the other day (after Z mentioned hers). Interesting. Top of the list was “HNT”!

Some of the other keywords in the list were:

“stream after stream of”
slip cock now
are you wet because you like the feel of
sticky thong peeling off pussy
“deeper into your cunt”
pink hot wet sticky clits
“along my shaft”
fuck me
pulling my cock
spunking into knickers
rub my labia over your balls
how to keep my cock hard at 45
suck my cock so ican come in your mouth
pink lips wide open
legs.open.wide
cock beating
spunk splattered panties
touch your toes revealing your panties
lick cleavage
take my knickers off
dangling labia licking
lift up your skirt and pull your panties
pull my cock
licking firm cock
“length of my”
silky knickers feel nice on my cock
slick slit
bend over so i can see your wet cunt
touch my breast
legs spread

Nice. To be honest, after reading that lot I feel pretty aroused….

Whoever it was who searched for “turn brush into dildo” was, I suspect, looking for Cake’s blog.

Complex

I wrote the other day about how I was considering taking the big step of actually embarking on some NSA sex, possibly through Craigslist. What I didn’t expect – but what turned up in my inbox over the weekend – was an invitation from one of my favourite and most admired bloggers to join her for what I shall inelegantly (and with tongue in cheek) describe as a ‘bunk up’.

Blimey.

So, instead of a random girl who might not even reply and to whom I was just an anonymous email address, here I was considering the prospect spending time between the thighs of somebody that I’ve read about and fantasised about ever since I stumbled across the idea of joining the blogsphere.

Paradoxically, what this did was make me doubt whether I really wanted to take this step at all; it forced me to consider my priorities, the risks, the benefits and even the logistics of meeting up and having sex. What a dilemma – I could almost feel the warm breath over my nether regions, I could sense the anticipation of those gorgeous lips around my shaft, I could imagine finally slipping between hot, wet, soft folds of welcoming pink flesh and feeling at one with a woman after all this time.

It’s easy to imagine a physical affair when there is no likelihood of it happening. Reality bites and doubts arise where there were none before. Am I ready, can I take that plunge, will it be everything I want from it? Will I turn her on. Will she turn me on? Will I be big enough, or too big? Will my nerves get the better of me and prevent me from performing, or will pent-up anticipation overcome me and result in a P-party*?

In the end, an excessively busy schedule gave me the excuse I needed – it’s likely I’ll be in the office for more than 12 hours every day this week, so I can’t really justify a couple of hours’ galavanting around a hotel room. That’s what I told myself anyway, and I think I believed it for the most part. My potential partner was lovely about it – understanding and kind, and I hope not feeling like I’d let her down or rejected her for any other reasons than my own misgivings.

What has this week taught me? It’s taught me that this whole situation is more complex than even I’d expected, and that these decisions are not easy. Only today my dear friend Fex announced that, due to the complexities of life, she is taking the conscious decision to end her blog (read it while you can, it won’t be there for long). Leading another life is hard enough in the ether of the internet – extending it into the real world just increases the pressures of the decisions we take. I’ve considered stopping this several times myself – it’s hard to find time to write regularly and write stuff that’s not just pap (in fact, I’ve already deleted and restarted this blog once, as some will remember). I have to remind myself that I am doing this for me, not for anyone else (it’s why I avoid Sugasm etc – I want to be certain that I’m doing this to express, discover, arouse and delight myself, not just compete for advertising revenue or visitor stats).

So, what next? Well, after all this contemplation I now know I will progress this into real life, and I will engage in NSA sex (assuming I can find a woman who is blind, desperate and possibly anaethetised). When, and with whom, I don’t know. But what this week has shown me is that I need it, I want it, and although it will take some balls (and the bit just above them) & determination, I will reach out and grasp it.

To the blogger who invited me, thank you. I did not get to savour your pink bits, but you have given me enlightenment, and that is far more sexy.

M

* One of my favourite jokes: A guy is invited to a fancy dress party where the theme is “something beginning with P”. He can’t decide what to dress as and eventually goes wearing just a pair of Y-fronts. When the host asks what he’s dressed as he says “Premature ejaculation”. Still not understanding, the host’s furrowed brow turns to an understanding smile when he explains “I came in my pants”.