They were as form fitting as any of his breeches, very form fitting. Sandra had shown him how to operate the zipper contraption, amazing really. He grasped the metal tab and pulled, taking a slice of skin off his finger in the process. Sandra came running in when she heard the cursing. "Damn and blast! One can suffer serious injury just dressing." His irritation dissipated as he followed her gaze toward the matter of his undress. He was quite exposed, even though he was wearing those 'boxer briefs' she had given him. They too, were quite snug. He rarely wore undergarments under his breeches. He hated the loose, flowing small clothes that tied at the sides. He had to admit, the under wear, as she called them, was like a second skin. He liked the feel of it, and obviously it was needed to protect one's privates from these dangerous metal teeth of the zipper. He winced inwardly at the thought of his tackle being caught in such a device. "I can't work the dammed thing," he snarled quietly.
