Under.

I miss the old days of cotton boxers. Not the stretchy boxer-briefs. I don't mean them. I mean the broadcloth, stiff cotton ones. I remember once-upon-a-time when I'd be making out with a guy, my hands would be on his waist, and I could slide my fingers along the waistband, maybe under it. Definitely different. Cotton and elastic gathered loosely over his hips.

At one point we'd scrabble out of our pants and maybe he'd be on top of me. I could feel his hard cock against me -- and this is the important part -- straining to be free. These new-fangled cotton stretchy things are all give. There's so much less suspense and urgency. Plus, the cotton broadcloth ones are much thinner, so he could feel a more delicate touch. I could stroke him and feel his insistent response. Finally I could liberate him. Ah, the joy and relief.

Who still wears these old boxers? Probably stockbrokers and lawyers. Real clean-cut types, the straight arrows. 'Tis a pity.