I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would give away my underpants, let alone that anybody would actually want my underpants. It is not as though they are particularly special underpants: they are a simple, rather homely pair of blue plaid men's size L boxers who's only distinctive quality is that carry the only the faintest scent of cheap incense and cedar wood. But there I was picking my boxers off of my girlfriend's bed and handing them to her, blushing.

The anxiety over our inevitable separation had exploded into an incredibly romantic and physically intense evening; cap-stoned by our intimate ritual of washing each other's face and hands, sharing a glass of ice-cold water, and engaging in serious, but playful pillow talk. As the subject matter drew thinner, I glanced across the room and noticed a pair of another man's boxers in her pile of dirty laundry.

It is funny, my girl is extremely small. She is has a slight, Asian frame. Yet she has chosen to date average to athletically large men. She has this peculiar habit of collecting—and wearing— their underwear, turned inside out.

We had discussed this little fetish of her's at great length in the past. I knew who that pair of plain little Calvin Klein boxers belonged to, and I felt oddly competitive. A little pang of jealousy jolted me and I turned to her and asked, "would you like my underwear?"

She smiled with genuine happiness and replied, "do you mean it? Yes! Of course I would!"

She rolled around me to pick them up but I stopped her and said, "not so fast," as I picked them up in my hand, "you must allow me to tell you the story of these underpants first." She nodded, and I proceeded to tell her:

"This pair of underwear is very special. Before I began to date you, the last time I wore this pair of boxers was when I was fifteen years old when my dad got married to his second, crazy wife.

"As I told you before, when my Father's second marriage deteriorated his wife had one day decided to move into my room while I was away and lock me from me and my belongings: my belongings including any clothing I had in there. Years passed and the stresses of an awkward family and school life took their toll I became significantly overweight and held a very negative image of myself.

"As I matured and became more confident of myself I lost weight and my self esteem brightened. Shortly thereafter I began to attend the University and that is when I met you. Do you remember that first night we spent together in my room at my dad's when he was out-of-town? Well, I needed underwear for the next day and I didn't pack any with me.

"That is when I reached into my old adolescent cedar dresser and found this pair of old blue plaid boxers atop few sticks of dried-up incense. I thought to myself, 'these won't fit me anymore," but I tried them on anyway. I slipped them on and much to my delight, I found that I had returned to my childhood waist size."

I handed them proudly to her. She looked as if I had given her more than she was looking for, but she held them high and stared at them as if they contained some unseen but ever-present magical aura. We hugged, and I thought to myself, "I sure hope I won't chafe in my blue jeans on the way home." I truly hope she understood the significance those undies held for me.

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