My sister wants to buy a pair of mesh shorts for her new boyfriend, apparently. He plays basketball, like me, and sis thought it would be a nice gift early in their relationship.
She brought it up today while we were both watching TV on the couch. I can't remember the show, but I was wearing mesh shorts at the time. Not because I had just finished a game of pick up, though. It was hot and I was expecting a lazy day. So I threw on mesh shorts in lieu of boxers and proper pants; in other words, I was going commando.
Sis had no idea. When she jumped on the couch next to me and noticed the shorts, she immediately started with questions.
"Are those comfy?" she asked, pointing down at my crotch. She sat with both legs tucked up on the couch, knees together an inch from my leg.
"What, the shorts? I guess," I replied, shifting slightly under her gaze. "Why?"
"Oh, Billy needs some. I wanted to buy him a really comfy pair, something that will make him think of me when he's out with the boys. So, those are soft? Breathable?" she continued.
We both looked down at my groin again. "Um, yeah sis. They feel soft and breathable. The mesh holes are pretty lar-" I trailed off. They were breathable, and thinner than I remembered. And after staring down for a few seconds I noticed the flesh of my thighs visible through the gaps in material.
Sis grabbed the shorts near my knee, twisting the fabric between her fingers to verify. As she continued the questioning, her hand lazily stroked the fabric up my thigh.
"Is the length OK? Is there enough room in them?" she asked, absent-mindedly stretching and pulling the fabric.
