Big Boy Undies 5

 

 

I dropped the mail off at Mr. Carter’s place as I did every Saturday when it was my route, only this morning a stranger answered the door. I only waited because Mr. Carter and I were friendly enough to exchange small talk whenever I stopped by. The stranger, however, caught me off guard with how he was dressed. Not the fact he was in white undergarments, you’d be surprised what people answered the door in on a Saturday morning. Mr. Carter was no different, often in his undergarments when talking to me. That was the issue though, specifically, the stranger was wearing Mr. Carter’s clothes. I noticed first with the boxers, pretty much a staple of Mr. Carter’s Saturday fit. Sure, a lot of people wore similar boxers, but I had delivered the mail enough to know the brand Mr. Carter wore when greeting me. Those were his without a doubt.

Then there was the shirt, I could see the stranger’s pecs pressing through them, shoulders and biceps making the sleeves bunch: it wasn’t his size, too small for him. Did I even have to say, in that same vein, I could practically see his cock in the boxers.

“Morning, Louis!” He greeted me with a smile, shaking my hand firmly. I had no idea how he knew my name. I had never encountered him on any of my other routes. He was a towering 6’6”, made even taller by the fact he had another few inches on me, due to being in the house vs on the porch. In my mind, I assumed the stranger must have been Mr. Carter’s late-night escapade. How else would one explain the clothes swapping? Though Mr. Carter did have a son, was it proper etiquette to answer the door in your partner’s clothes, in that case?

“Good to see you, Holden.” My mouth answered before my brain caught up. Odd, as I didn’t know many Holdens. There were only two that came to mind, one who pantsed me in 9th grade and Mr. Carter’s son. On a second review, the man standing at the door actually looked like Mr. Carter’s Holden. Or an older version, if he had his dad’s features. I had seen the boy before walking around, even talked briefly. Good kid, but he didn't have the beard or body hair the man in front of me did. Still though, the resemblance was staggering. If I was Mr. Carter, I’d have questions for my ex. 

“Did you want to wake my dad—I mean, Damien.” He corrected himself.

Hearing Mr. Carter’s first name was strange, but felt familiar when it left the guy's mouth, as if I had heard the same husky voice ask the question before. Then I started thinking: maybe I had met the guy before and simply forgot. The vibe around him was like running into an old friend. If that was the case, didn’t it make sense he was in Damien’s clothes? Memories that I had forgotten, and yet felt so new, appeared in my head as I talked with the man. “No, no need to wake him for my sake. Let him rest.”  I handed over the mail, “How’s little Holden doing?”

“Oh um,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “He was playing around with his dad’s stuff this morning…and uh.”

I raised my hand, “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“You do?” He asked.

“Well last Saturday, Damien was telling me it may be time to get his son boxers as he was really getting interested.” I added the tidbit to ease Holen’s mind as it was something Damien was aware of and actively thinking about.

Big Holden sighed, “Maybe too interested."

“Yeah, but you and your husband got this.” There was my mouth prattling off again. I didn’t know what it was about that Saturday that had me just talking.

“Husband?” He said it to me as if he was asking me for clarification, but I just pointed to his rings. “Oh yeah…” he agreed.

That confirmation was all I needed, then I finally remembered fully. This Holden wasn’t some random sex partner; this was Damien’s husband the two Mr. Carters of the block. Of course, I knew them both. That’s why he was wearing Damien’s clothes too; he did that a lot. My mind had just sort of blanked on it for some reason. The mail was for both of them. As I remembered that fact though, the image of Damien’s son slipped from my head filling in with the larger Holden. I didn't completely forget about his son, rather it just became a factoid in the back of my mind. More of a brief thought: Damien has a son. But I could no longer recall ever seeing or hearing about him. The only Holden Carter I knew was the one in front of me. And besides our previous mention about him mere moments ago, I couldn’t recall having ever brought Damien’s son up in discussion before then.

Holden was staring at me, “You okay, Louis?” He asked.

“Sorry, must have zoned out, what were we saying?”

“You were asking me about Damien’s son.” He stated,

“You guys have a kid?” Even now I can’t say why I asked something that should have been obvious. I knew Damien had a son, but the question felt right, like it solidified itself when it left my lips. 

“I guess not.” He rifled through the mail. I heard him mumble, “I just wanted to try his boxers on for a little bit.” Then he looked up and shrugged, “Mostly bills.”

“Isn’t it always?” I chuckled.

“Got me there.” He smirked back. “Guess that’s what happens when you get older and get into the same realm as your parents. Responsibility.”  He flexed his bicep, staring at it, still holding the mail. “Though responsibility kind of looks good on me.”

I didn't outwardly speak, but internally I was agreeing. Damien came trotting downstairs, greeting me, before wrapping his arms around Holden from behind. 

“What are you two going on about this fine Saturday morning?”

“Sorry, da–Damien, did we wake you?” Holden asked. 

“Don’t worry about it, just come back to bed.” He nibbled on Holden’s ear, “You look good in my clothes,” He whispered. I saw Holden’s cock throb in response, swelling in Damien’s boxers.

That was my cue to leave. I said my goodbyes, rushing down their pathway to the next house. I took one last glance back at the two Mr. Carters who had always lived there. The image seemed exactly correct and yet like I was seeing it for the first time ever.