I found this on a blog years ago, and I couldn’t have said it better myself………………………………
“I can’t remember when I first discovered my love for wedgies. I used to wrestle daily with my best friend in middle school and though my grappling skills and prowess exceeded his, I always allowed him to pin me. I wore my underwear high and my shorts low, taunting him to give me wedgies. When he pulled long and hard on my briefs, I would pretend to writhe in pain and discomfort. But it was an exquisite pain I experienced - a delightful and passionate pain. I never resisted …He must have ripped literally hundreds of pairs of my underwear.
I haven’t had a wedgie buddy in years and I miss it dearly. Those afternoons, pressed under the full weight of my friend were my very best memories. Trying to look back and understand where my love for wedgies came from is hard. I do realize that while my friend always played the big man, he was actually very insecure. When he dominated me, he felt strong, competent, and in control, things he didn’t feel in the “real world.” My pretend-humiliation fueled his ego. But through this great arrangement, what was I receiving in exchange? What spirituality did I find in my humiliated state? Why did I enjoy being the “loser” for years?
Psychoanalyst Carl Jung argued that humans need to be in touch with what he called, “the shadow” - the weak, defeated, limited, degraded, and sinful side of human nature. It’s not enough to be strong, loving, compassionate, and competent. One must learn to completely surrender to life’s defeats. In a way I cannot ever come close to describing, wedgies have helped me transcend my everyday identity and existence. In one quick tug of my waistband, wedgies take me from Clark Kent to Superman.”
The same blogger later wrote the following……………………….:
Zealous hands dive into your pants and grasp your most intimate piece of clothing. You feel tension in your underwear waistband and without warning your leg-holes race across the surface of your butt-cheeks. Your underwear converges in a tight wad of cotton - a rope of underwear - that violently penetrates your mounds, before coming to an abrupt and painful halt as it collides with the depth of your butt-crack. Firmly anchored and digging into your crevice, the tense cotton drags fire along your crack. Your butt arches from your back; you offer no resistance to the pull of the underwear lasso. The seams of your underwear scream with a cacophony of pops and ripples as the wedgie tests the tensile limit of your underwear. Begging for more length, the wedgie drags the front of your underwear to the back, painfully squishing your package into a tight, over-filled, bulge - ready to burst. You’re vulnerable, dominated, humiliated. You submit to the wedgie leash - a lifeline of pain and pleasure - and to the authority who controls it. You love it. Through the pain and humiliation is a comfort, a sort of camaraderie with the master of your underwear.”
I WHOLEHEARTEDLY agree…I think it’s a combination of an adrenaline rush, eroticism, humiliation, domination, embarrassment, and literal physical pleasure and pain, with the fabric rubbing into your nether regions and you being in close proximity to another person in the same situation. Love it.
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