Twelve Months
by Adam Northgate


Chapter Three: May

“So what are you two going to do all weekend? I really hope that I can trust you Adam,” Mum says, not looking at me, crashing through the gears as we make our way out of town.

My still-smooth chin is resting on my chest, my eyes are closed. At first she was thrilled that Patrick and Emma wanted me to stay with Simon for the weekend while they were in Edinburgh. They thought it would be ‘good for you two boys to spend some time with someone who understands’. Mum actually told me this the other day, after I told her Simon had asked me and, no, I didn’t mention the accompanying filthy image.  Anyhow, she already knew he’d asked me, already in the loop, already pleased and planning… It seems Simon and I are freaks of nature, to be studied, worked on, assimilated back into society, to be fixed and made ready for ‘normal’ life. Mum and his seemingly normal parents think we need each other to be able to do that, for some reason. Yeah right.

“Trust me? I’m not going to steal the TV or go through Emma’s underwear drawer!” I threw that in to wind her up.

“Adam!” she squeals, “Don’t be disgusting! There’s no need for that kind of talk.”

My eyes are open now, just in time to see her nearly wipe out a cyclist, swerving in her sudden fear of me swiping Emma’s bra and knickers.

“Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into you lately Adam. Some days you barely grunt at me when I ask you to do something, or what you think about something, and then other days you come out with things like that. You need to be normal. You need to be with other kids, your own age. Someone who…”

She stops herself just in time, but I know that the next words would’ve been ‘who has been through it’.  Fucks sake! It’s been nearly five months.

“Mum. Look,” nice, normal, adoring teenage son, “I’m sure we will get along fine, we did before, and we have been texting one and other a bit,” luckily she can’t turn her eyes from the road to see my slight blush. “He’s got video games, there are two bikes and loads of food his mum has left he says. We aren’t going to do drugs, get pissed and trash the place.”

I knew all of those things were pretty high on her imagined 16-year-old-lads-left-on-their-own-will-do-list. She steals a glance at me from the steering wheel and grimaces.

“OK?” I ask a tad sharply.

“OK,” she relents. “Just be careful and look after each other,”

What the…? Ugh… Look after each other? Where the hell did that come from? Oh God! It’s not going to be us two snivelling over our dead relatives all weekend. That’s what they’ve planned. A mutual counselling slash let’s-talk-about-this session with Simon and me comparing notes. Much more likely to be comparing…

The rest of the journey we spend in silence, me scrolling through shit on my phone, her trying not to hyper-ventilate at the thought of her teenage son spending the weekend a) away from home and b) possibly in a drunken, drugged, underwear-stealing frenzy in her friend’s house.

“He’s upstairs Adam, you know the way. Take your bag up with you, anything left on these stairs is a death trap.” Emma. Who is calmer and probably looking forward to her dirty weekend away from her distinctly odd son I expect. She smiles at me, squeezes my shoulder as I brush past her onto the first set of stairs. It feels nice.

“Oh, bye then, Adam,” Mum calls after me, standing on the doorstep, “Remember what I told you please.”

Her concern bounces off the back of my head and I grunt a cursory ‘bye’ back without turning my head. I’ve had enough now, let her worry. My sister will be thrilled skinny she has her undivided attention all weekend. I’m sure they’ll go and stroke ponies or hunt unicorns or something. Be busy. She won’t fret about me once she gets home and Amy starts.

I make it to the second landing and glance out of the window to see our car pulling away, barely missing the wing mirror of a cool Audi parked opposite. She really is a shit driver. Of course she is. She hardly ever drove if Dad was around… I realise I’m holding my breath and let it out noisily.

“Oi, you loser. Stop panting, there’s not that many stairs!” His voice falls out of the open hatch in the ceiling and trickles into my ears. I smile instinctively. I throw my rucksack up and through the square hole in the ceiling.

“Ugh, thanks for that!” He squeals like a little girl, and I look up to see him looming over the opening looking down at me, rubbing his groin. “Right in the fucking bollocks!” My bag sits at his socked feet.

“Sorry matey,”

I grin up at him, my own socked feet now making their way up the ladder rungs to his ‘suite in the sky’ as I now have christened it in my own head – of course, I left my trainers neatly aligned at the front door. I emerge into his cavernous room.

He is wearing dark grey skinny joggers and a hoody with a plain black t-shirt which oddly makes him look like a chav lad. The joggers are hugging his body and I can see whatever underwear he’s wearing is hugging his package pretty well. And white socks! Nice. No slippers I notice. Thank goodness I don’t have to spend the weekend looking at those fucking awful slippers… As soon as this thought forms in my mind I despise myself for it, remembering his tearful admission to me last time I was up here. Anyway that was then, and now he looks cool-ish. He looks like a chav. Actually he looks like one of those lads Ed Miller hangs around with in town… Fuck it, he looks sexy.

“Hey, Simon,” nonchalant. Be cool Adam, be cool.

His wardrobe choice today has my cock tingling in my trunks. My new boxer trunks. Yeah, I treated myself. Superdry. Orange with a black waistband. For some reason I needed new undies for this weekend. Thank the Lord for the internet, meant I didn’t have the humiliation of actually going into a shop and buying pants. Some Saturday girl, or worse, Saturday boy eyeing me up and judging me by my choice of underwear. I needed new pants? I wanted new pants. For this weekend. For…

Suddenly the breath is knocked out of me as Simon nearly knocks me over, engulfing me in his super-long arms and rests his head on my shoulder, one each of his hands on my arse cheeks. Fucking hell Simon.

“It’s so good you wanted to come this weekend,” he mumbles into the neck of my sweatshirt. I can just about feel his warm, sweet breath on my neck, “I wondered if you were going to be up for it and if your mum would let you.”

“Simon, let go you bell-end. I can’t fucking breathe,” I manage to pant, and I simultaneously realise I can feel something semi-hard against my crotch – he’s getting a hard-on. Jesus. One minute in and his cock is stiffening up. I push him backwards off of me. One part of me likes it that he’s so pleased to see me, I mean I’m looking forward to being away from my mum for the weekend too, but he’s like a puppy. An over-excited puppy, with sweet breath, soft skin… and a horny cock… The skinny joggers are doing nothing to hide the fact that he chubbed up while hanging on to me and I can quite clearly see the outline of that pale, perfect cock along his left hip.

“Back to the staring I see, Adam,” he says, adjusting his dick through the grey fabric and grinning inanely.

“What? Oh yeah, well…” and I try the ‘Miller Chav Tic’ and tilt my head fractionally towards his groin. Simon splits his face with a dirty smile.

“Right you two,” I jump a full foot in the air as a deep baritone fills the room. Fuck me, that was close. 10 seconds sooner and we’d have been caught. “I expect you to be responsible this weekend Simon. I don’t want your mother and I to come back to a mess or, um, erm, anything.” Patrick, Simon’s dad seems to be struggling to know what exactly the rules are for the two days, and is looking distinctly at his sons midriff from his halfway in the room vantage point on the ladder.

“Dad, we will be good. Go and have a nice weekend, just like we are going to have,” Simon looks at me, winks and then to his dad.

Patrick turns to descend the ladder and calls over his shoulder, looking past me and directly into his son’s eyes,

“Well, if you can’t be good, be careful!” And he winks. Patrick winks. But not at Simon. At me. Patrick winks at me. And he’s gone.

What the actual? What the bloody hell was that about? I stand there dumbstruck while Simon busies himself at the side of the bed with something, I feel, rather than hear, the front door closing firmly and as I come over, he’s pushing the top drawer shut on his bedside table.

“Simon, your dad just winked at me. Why did he just wink at me?” he’s now moving back towards me.

“Oh, he’s always doing that. I do it quite a bit too, or did you not notice that?” he says placing a hand on each of my shoulders, “I’m amazed you haven’t noticed, what with your staring and all,” He smiles at me and my head clears, his pink, smooth lips part to reveal perfect white teeth.

“Yeah, I noticed, you fucking weirdo!” and I push him backwards with all my effort and he falls onto his king-size bed. Spread-eagled on his back, his joggers bulge toward the ceiling at his crotch… Damn me Simon, you’re certainly proud of it today. I open my mouth and take a deep, reviving breath before saying,

“So where am I sleeping then?”

I take a tour of the room, familiarising myself once again with the layout, stick my head into the small bathroom in the corner and notice there are two sets of towels on the rail and a new toothbrush, still packaged, sitting by the basin.

“You got a camp bed or pull out?” I ask, moving to the edge of his massive bed to peer under it. I am confused as to why I’m only asking him, and myself this now. Why the hell didn’t I find out this shit before I agreed to come? This isn’t a small house, there must be a spare room, surely? I certainly don’t fancy the floor, softly carpeted though it is.

“What do you mean?” Simon sits up and crosses his legs under him, like a Yogi, exposing the soles of his white socks to me. Hands on his knees. If he starts chanting, I’m out of here, empty house or no empty house… I can see the outlines of his toes, a very slight discolouration highlighting the pads of them, like a footprint of his footprint. I can’t help but look at them and my cock twitches again in its Superdry cocoon.

“Huh?” He looks at me, concerned. His eyes are fixed on mine. “Adam?”

“I mean you’re sitting on ‘your’ bed and I am here for two nights, so where is my bed? I’m not sleeping on your floor, no way Pedro.” I’m serious. I glance over to my bag, sitting where Simon dropped it near the hole in the floor.

Why didn’t I ask him before?! Why?  Because I already knew the answer that’s why. Of course I know. I know…

“Erm, it’s your bed as well. Plenty big enough for two, don’t you think?” and with that he flops back down pushes his arse off the king sized bed, flaunting himself and spreads his arms and legs wide apart, nowhere near approaching the edge of the huge bed. “See?”

He raises his head to look at my face and pats the duvet next to him. An invitation I’m not sure I want to accept. This is all a bit much. Sure I like him, since that bloody awful day when we first met, it was obvious we had a connection, and ignoring the background engineering of our parents we have become friends on our own terms. But this? Sleeping in his bed. With him in it as well? I don’t know… He’s not my boyfriend for fucks sake.

I lean over the edge of the bed, my feet sinking into the deep carpet, and look down on him. Smooth cheeks with a hint of fox red hairs and barely freckled nose and is that the merest hint of lemon?

“Look I dunno what you’ve got in mind for this weekend Simon, but I…” this is hard. He looks at me like a small child would if I was about to deny him some penny sweets. “I don’t want to sleep with you, in your bed. I’m… Just…”

“Just what?” His eyes are watering, “What Adam?” The merest crack in his voice.

“Look we are mates, aren’t we? But the photo on my phone, and now…” there’s a knot in my stomach.

I can’t think of what to say. The right words to say. Any words. I need to get this out though and he’s not making it any easier, with his obscene bulge, and beautifully perfect face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I just thought you’d want to sleep in my bed. Adam? With me. Like mates. Like…” Simon trails off and sniffs. “Just look at me please, Adam.”

Don’t do this Simon, please don’t be in charge. My cock twitches again and I thrust my hand into my pocket to move it.

“But if you don’t want to… Well. Alright. I won’t force you to. Not if you really don’t want to.”

“No. Sorry,” and I feel immediately relieved. I’m still a bit pissed that that’s what he had planned. But then I hadn’t asked earlier either. What with everything lately it should have been a thought accompanied by a flashing red light and a siren in my head. “So, where shall I put my stuff?” I ask him, going over and picking up my bag from where he dumped it.

“Ah, just chuck it over there in the corner and we’ll sort it out later. There’s a spare bed in Gav’s room so we could bring the mattress up from that if you want?” Disappointed Simon is hard to bear. He won’t look at me in the eye.

“Gav’s room?” Shit, you moron Adam!

“Yeah, my brother’s old room,” Sniffing again. Adam Northgate you are a prize fucking idiot.

“Shit. Yeah. Sorry. Of course. And yeah, a mattress on the floor is cool, thanks.”

I aim my bag containing my two extra pairs of new boxers, (green and cyan if you were wondering) a clean t-shirt and my toothbrush – I believe in packing light – into the corner by the door to the en-suite bathroom. It hits the wall with a soft thud and slides down. I turn and Simon is sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, hands on his mussy hair. I go over and sit beside him.

“Look, I am sorry. I just didn’t think to ask before I got here, about where I’d be sleeping. It’s no biggie Simon.”

I nudge him with my whole body, and as he wasn’t expecting the impact he topples over. I laugh as he holds his pose while falling and it looks so funny. Then his body starts to shake. Oh no. He’s not? Is he… Crying? Simon curls up into a tight ball. What have I done? This is obviously a massive deal for him.

“Aw, come on mate, it’s OK. I’m sorry, it’s your bro again? Look I can sleep up here in your room, on the mattress. It’ll be cool. We can stay up all fucking night if we want. No ‘rents to get on our nerves, tell us what to do. Simon?”

I lean my whole body over towards the messy nest of auburn hair, his pale fingers poking out here and there. Tiny little noises escaping from under the thatch, and a little shiver here and there too. Bloody hell, I’ve really done it now. He’s proper upset.

“Simon?” I find his fingers with mine and feel him grip my hands in his. His hands are perfectly smooth, and silky to the touch. With a sudden burst of energy he flips over onto his back, taking me with him, so I land up sitting astride him in the middle of the bed. What the…? His eyes flick open and he’s laughing. He wasn’t fucking crying, he was laughing! The nutcase had me.

“Oh, Adam, you’re just so gullible!” He manages to get out of his pink, moist lips between guffaws. His eyes, mouth, cheeks, nose – his whole face smiling up at me. “I didn’t think you’d ever go for sleeping in my bed with me. Why would you? I mean Gav and I used to sometimes, if I got frightened or had a nightmare sometimes. But we were brothers, proper tight. But you and me? Come on. We are just mates. And we’re not fucking gay boys are we?” And he dissolves into uncontrollable giggles again. I am miffed. But only slightly.

“Simon, you fucking twat!” I pin his arms down above his head, and am immediately intoxicated by that musky, lemony scent as my upper body lowers towards his. He’s still laughing and smiling and…  I realise my arse is firmly planted over his crotch, and he’s enjoying it. I can feel a hardness between my bum cheeks which lets me know in no uncertain terms that whatever is going on here is turning him on.

“You little fucking git! That was really awkward. You knew, but went along with it, just to wind me up? You’re mental!” My face breaks into an unexpected smile. His is absolutely infectious. He twists and wriggles beneath me now, now he knows I’m not actually angry. He begins to writhe his whole body, I’m still gripping his hands, and he mine, the result is his rapidly hardening and growing boner is mashing into my arse. Actually it feels good. To be in contact with his body. My own cock is swelling now, constrained as it is from being too obvious in my jeans.

“Yeah, well. You’re too easy Northgate.” He grins and with an almighty push of his arms flips me over onto my back so that he’s the top and I’m the bottom. Jeez me he’s strong for someone so slight.

“Oh yeah?! We’ll see about that!” I manage to grunt out before twisting my legs around his, locking them at the ankles and bringing my knees up behind his butt. I wasn’t ready for the resulting massive, tented bulge of his crotch coming at my face that that caused. Unconsciously I inhale deeply and open my mouth a fraction.

Simon’s reply was to put his left arm round my neck and force my head into his armpit and reinforce it with his other arm too. Still breathing deeply I can’t help but get several lung fulls of ‘eau de Simon.’ He’s getting warm, and so am I. He smells so fucking good. I push my face up, so my nose rests right in that foxy, furry pit, somehow I’ve ended up under his hoody, so just a single layer of thin jersey between me and him. I open my mouth and drink it in. I feel my cock filling out, throbbing with every breath in.

“Mmmmm, yessss…” Was that me? Oh shit. I really hope that was just in my head and not out loud.

Simon’s head is somewhere near the bottom of my lower back, he’s climbed onto me, my head still wedged in his heady pit. I can hear him breathing deeply too, really deeply. I feel a slight tugging at the back of my boxers. And the hem of my sweatshirt being pulled up. The dirty little bastard. Another deep inhalation. Which I match. My cock is now solid. I squeeze my thighs together, just to remind him I’m still alive.

“Nice, Adam.” I feel the waistband of my new trunks being pulled up, a mini wedgie. And then a finger underneath. His finger, creeping down towards…

“Hey, What are you…?” The dirty little… Feels nice.

“Nice boxers man. New?” I can just about hear his muffled question, and as I pull my head upwards, his grip on my neck loosens and I emerge from inside his hoody and flop on my back beside him.

“Yeah. New. Why?”  I turn to face him. He’s slightly red in the face, as am I. I reach down and pull the waistband above my jeans, exposing the lurid orange text and my belly button. “Superdry.” I’ve now got them pretty tightly pulled up both front and back. My cock is super solid now and it’s obvious – my jeans are fairly tight, even without a boner. “You like ’em then?”

“Mmm, yeah. I really like them,” and with that he lifts his arse off the bed, slips his thumbs into the waistband of his joggers and deftly slides them down and off his white socked feet. “See?” he asks triumphantly.

There, stretched tightly over his obscenely prominent erection are the very same orange Superdry trunks that I am wearing.

“What the…?” How the hell? “How? I mean What? That’s weird!”

Feeling bold, I flick the button on my jeans and peel them down to my ankles. My cock springs up in its matching, hi-viz, Lycra pouch. I look down and spot a darker orange patch. Oh shit! Pre-cum. I’ve got so horny wrestling and sniffing him that I’ve leaked. Simon makes a barely audible gasp and I turn to look at him. He’s transfixed on my junk.

“Aw, mate! We’ve got the same pants! How cool is that?!” Simon is like a small boy, super-happy. Super weird. No change there then…

“Well,” I manage to focus my brain on speech rather than orange cock for a moment, “Yeah, I guess so. They look awesome on you Simon.” I reach down and run my hand over the fabric mountain between his thighs. He shivers and gasps, our heads so close I feel his breath in my nostrils.

Simon turns his head away from my crotch and whispers my name, just once, before his lips meet mine and I feel his hand on my matching boxers. He feels so solid, but so soft in my hand and feel the need to squeeze his dick, just to gauge his hardness. His reaction passes directly from his mouth to mine. Our lips are apart, warm tongues exploring each other’s mouths, hot breath inhaled and exhaled with every caress, push and pull on our dicks. Simon certainly knows how to rub me up the right way, and for a split second I remember he’s maybe had a tiny bit of practice with Gav.

“Fucking hell Adam, you make me horny,” he breathes into my face, lips pink and glistening as they come into view after leaving my face.

“I dunno why,” I reply, in all seriousness. I don’t have a clue. I’m not fit, buff, handsome, good looking, whatever.

“Because you’re you. You’re funny, shy, cute,” Oh good Lord, where the hell is this going? “And you’re hot mate. And you have splendid taste in sexy boxers!”

He announces this last item like it’s headline news, in a mock aristocratic, cut-glass accent, almost shouting.

“Shh! Simon! Don’t tell the whole bloody house,” I’m suddenly aware of myself, jeans round my ankles, hard-on, lying next to a half-naked sixteen year old, comparing bulges.

“What?!” He’s laughing again, “It’s just us here, you dickhead! Remember?” Of course. Empty house. And is if to prove the point he grabs my deflating cock and rubs it through the fabric once more. “So what do you want to do? Gaming? Bikes? Film? TV?” He flips himself over to be able to look out of the window, “Looks like it might piss down later though.”

I follow suit, our two, tight, teen, bright-orange arses mooning the ceiling.

“Erm, I don’t mind really. I don’t feel like getting drenched in the rain much. What about you?”

“Nope,” Still looking out of the window.

“Game then? Till lunch?” I’m not that much of a gamer, but I can hold my own. I have a feeling Simon could be an expert, judging by the 60” TV on the wall and headset lying by the controllers.

“OK, cool.” He seems OK with that and goes over to switch it all on.

“Hey, nutcase!” I do my head nodding again towards his pale, bare legs and those pert cheeks as they jiggle slightly in front of the huge screen.

“What?” Simon asks and turns just his upper body towards me.

“Forgotten something?” Like your trousers? Weirdo! I run my hand down his legs, in mid air from where I’m still laying on the bed. He grasps my mime.

“So what?” And he mocks me, showcasing my half-nakedness with his slim hand from where he stands, like a game show hostess, “One, I’m not cold. Two, your jeans are almost off too. And three, who gives a shit? Mum and dad aren’t here, remember, you idiot. My room, my rules!”

  1. His logic is impeccable. I decide I can’t argue with any of that and pull my jeans off the one ankle they were still clinging too. He’s right, it’s toasty warm up here and to be honest my jeans were a little on the snug side anyway. If he’s comfortable I need to be too…

Simon fingers a line of games stacked underneath the screen and picks one, slides the disc into the console and pads back towards the bed, and throws one of the two controllers he has in his hand to me.

“So you want to wrestle, let’s wrestle.” He says and sits down cross-legged at the foot of the bed, where I join him. Our bare knees touching, our socked feet meeting between us under them.

WWE is the game he’s selected, and suddenly the screen is filled with built, smooth muscled and chiselled guys, slickly animated to mega-bas music… I turn and look at him to find him staring intently at me, waiting. The bastard winks, adjusts his dick and says “Best of three?”


Of course I lost all three… I’m not a great gamer and today is my wrestling debut, real and imagined. The game has got me pretty horned though. And Simon. All the time we were playing he was adjusting himself, and now I was feeling a bit more relaxed I was having to as well. My dick continuing to sporadically eject a blob of pre-cum every now and again was a tell-tale sign. And I am certain Simon noticed. The orange fabric not hiding anything, much darker when wet.

Suddenly both ravenous, we pad down the stairs to the kitchen and find a whole fridge full of stuff already prepared for us by Emma, and an envelope propped on the kitchen table with our names on. Neither of us have bothered to reinstate our trousers, and by now I no longer care. It’s cool. We are cool.

“What’s that?” I ask Simon as he opens it, while I find plates and pile a massive amount of food onto each.

“It’s thirty quid and a post-it note saying ‘get yourselves a takeaway for dinner if you want, love Mum’,”

“Hey, that’s good. Your folks are so easy going.  My mum would be making us sit up at the table and eat whatever she’d made.”

“Yep. They’re not bad.” he concedes with a grin and we head up one flight of stairs to pig out in front of the TV while we eat.

In the comfy living room there are two two-seater sofas and we each flop down on one to eat our massive lunch. Simon flicks a button on the remote laying on the low, oak coffee table and channel hops until he finds some inane American comedy on an obscure satellite channel.

We stuff our faces with meat and pastry based products, crisps and a couple of chocolate biscuits each, washed down with Coke while watching and laughing together at the crappy comedy. I am so much more relaxed now that I begin to feel my eyelids drooping and the whining accent from the TV fades into the distance. My belly is full, my over active brain is sluggish while my body processes the approximately 3000 calories we’ve just inhaled. I bloody love Simon’s house. It’s so… I prise my eyes open a fraction of a centimetre and peer through my eyelashes at Simon, draped over the other sofa, feet dangling over the arm, one arm behind his head, his eyes closed. I am happy and drift off to sleep thinking how cool it would be to live here in this house…

In my dream, Simon wakes to find me snoring very quietly, like a snuffly dog, my slumber enhanced by a full stomach and a sense of contentment which has been elusive for so long. He pads over to me, to find me lying on the sofa, arms behind my head, t-shirt riding up, showing my little belly, accentuating my teenage package, wrapped in day-glow orange fabric, my white socked feet hanging off the edge of the padded sofa arm.

His bulge seems bigger, and at some point he’s lost the zipped hoody he had on, the room is warm, and cosy, the air thick with hormones. And expectation. And… He stands at the side of the sofa, level with my feet, and looks down on me, I can see his chest expanding with every breath he takes, and relaxing again when he exhales. He says my name. Whispers it. Asks. Prays. I hear him. He takes a quarter step forward and the soles of my feet make contact with his groin. A foot neatly planted either side of his growing erection. He puts his perfect hands on the tops of my feet and presses them to him. I am awake.

“Adam,” He quietly asks.

“Yeah,” My own erection is throbbing. I nod, the only acknowledgement I can manage.

Simon presses his hands on my feet and electric shocks travel from the soles of them up my legs, making the hairs stand on up on my thighs. I feel something weird in the pit of my stomach, probably one too many scotch eggs earlier. I shiver slightly and blink, very slowly. Deliberately his hands move up to my ankles and his soft fingers find my skin, brushing the soft dark hairs on my legs as he pulls off each of my socks and replaces my bare feet on his crotch. I curl my toes, grabbing the fabric of his boxers and pulling it down, taut over the tip of his cock, causing a dark spot to emerge there, just below the waistband. His solid erection is only just contained. He gasps and looks down at it, and then back at me and winks. His soft hands on my feet are causing me to breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling enough to make my shirt continue to ride further up my belly and chest. I can feel my nipples rubbing against the fabric, and they seem to be directly wired to my balls and every time I get a tingle my balls respond in kind. I raise my head off the arm of the sofa and pull my t-shirt off over my head, dropping it to the floor.

Simon needs no more encouragement and does the same, treating me to the most glorious view of his fox red pit hairs, vibrant against his pale skin. He leans into me further, steadying himself against the soles of my feet causing me to raise my knees slightly to support him, then bends sidewards to remove each of his socks in turn, and drops each one onto the floor beside him. I want one. I was hoping he was going to chuck one, or both, at me. Fuck, am I a foot freak?

“Adam?” This time louder. A more direct question.

“Simon?” I reply, equally direct. I need him, though I don’t really know why.

I pull my knees right up to my chest and he falls across the arm towards me where I am braced for the impact of a horny sixteen year old. He laughs and yelps at the same time, smooth chest on smooth chest feels like nothing on earth, our identical twin hard-ons crashing into each other as he comes to land on top of me. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the warm skin of his back on the sensitive skin of my inner arms, my fingers tracing the nubs of his spine. He sighs deeply into my mouth as our tongues meet and re-acquaint themselves, a brief clatter of teeth making me giggle inside him.

As we kiss deeply, his hands cradle my face, his smooth palms feel amazing on my cheeks. I force my eyes open, to be able to see his shining eyes and find that he is looking at me intently, really concentrating on the task. I feel the merest graze of stubble from his top lip on mine, and like the touch of his hands it sends shock waves down my body and engorges my dick all over again. He pulls up from my wet mouth, wipes his with the back of a perfect pale skinned hand.

“You taste of sausage rolls Adam,” he says, very slightly out of breath.

I can’t help it, but I let out a huge guffaw, this is just the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever said to me… Not that I have had many boys’ tongues in my mouth. Well, none. He sits up on my chest, one leg awkwardly down the side of the sofa, one foot on the floor. His arse is right on my deflating dick, sitting neatly in the orange valley of his crack. Oh fuck yeah.

“This sofa is a bit small for us big boys,” Simon reaches behind his back and grabs my balls with a dirty grin. Did he extend his index finger down under me when he did that? Was that what that was just then?

“Ugh! Simon you fucker! Watch what you’re grabbing there. Well, there’s a nice big bed upstairs, isn’t there?” What the hell am I doing? This is not me. I don’t want to sleep with Simon. Do I? In my head I don’t, but my body says otherwise, my hard-on returning slowly. The merest hint of downward pressure from his taut arse.

I didn’t want to sleep in his bed. I didn’t want to sleep in his bed on his say so. At his instigation. This is my doing. I do want to have sex with him. With someone. I want to lose my virginity. I guess he’s already lost his. With Gavin? His brother took his cherry? Isn’t that…? Surely? Really? My dick is solid now and I can feel a damp spot forming. All this races through my head in about five seconds.

“Earth to Adam?” He pulls on my balls, sending an immediate signal to my cock to release a gob of clear fluid into my pants. I can’t focus on Simon’s dead brother. I don’t know what he is thinking, but judging by the rigid pole pointing skywards whatever it is getting him pretty horny.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I almost whisper the words and look directly at his face as I say them, a question rather than a statement.

“Yeah, let’s,” he bends down and kisses me chastely on the lips, no tongue this time. Nimbly he climbs off me, letting my cock spring up disgustingly proud and ready. He takes my hand in his and interlocks his fingers in mine. This really takes me aback. I can’t remember that last time I ever held hands will anyone. It is such a gentle, loving gesture that I am stunned, physically and emotionally. Simon gently pulls on my arm and I get up and follow him to the landing and the foot of the ladder. He climbs up first, but I am right behind him, the rungs are cool on my bare feet and I curl my toes over the edge, grounding myself in the here and now. I need to make myself aware of the fact that I am about to have sex with Simon. Horny, sexy, funny, weird, pale, foxy, lemon-scented, mental-hair Simon.

He is waiting for me at the hatch, and as we become the same height he again takes my face in his hands and kisses my neck, moving a hand round to the nape of my neck, venturing up into my hair at the back. His other hand snakes down my back, gliding over my shoulders and spine, finally reaching my bum and I instinctively press myself into his body, our cocks, equally hard, now side by side in their matching outfits. Simon gently squeezes my arse cheek, massaging it gently, occasionally fingers meandering towards my crack. Nuzzled in his neck too, I begin to kiss him back, fucking hell he smells so nice. I hope I do too. I kiss up his neck toward his ear and he arches his neck out, and a small noise comes from him. Ah, he likes that.

Walking carefully backwards I feel the edge of the bed on my leg and sink back down onto it, pulling my horned up mate with me. We are still wrapped around each other and as we fall I wrap my bare legs around his body and he responds, doing the same, our legs a tangled mess. I can feel that he is rock hard, and I am too.

“Well someone now pretty badly wants to be on my bed…” he mumbles into the duvet.

“Yeah. Well…” Is all I can manage, as he is kneeling up beside me peeling his boxers down his thighs.

His dick springs from the fabric cage like something possessed and I open my mouth and inhale deeply, the need for air overriding speech. The deep purple head is slick with pre-cum and shining, the shaft much paler, skin taut with a large vein visible. He holds the base above his balls and squeezes, it all grows before my eyes. I reach out my left hand tentatively and look at his face. He is impassive in all but his eyes, which are saying: yes.

Slowly I bring my hand under his balls, my finger tips finding the dark red hairs soft rather than wiry as I had expected. His balls sit in my palm and a little sigh escapes from his partly open mouth. Simon is looking down on the scene from above, and I have shifted myself towards him a little, laying on my back, him still kneeling and holding his gently pulsing cock. I cup and fondle his furry nuts in my warm hand, they are so soft. I really don’t know what I was expecting… Slowly, slowly, I extend my middle finger and feel along the ridge towards his arse, a few millimetres at a time, all the time watching his face. His eyes are closed now, a small smile begins. I’ve played with my bumhole when I’ve wanked and I know it feels good, but this is him. Simon. It’s his bumhole.

I pull my finger back, worried for a second. This is too much.

“It’s OK,” he murmurs, and his free hand comes down to rub my chest. He finds my now hard nipple and begins to trace rings round it. Ever decreasing circles in a feather-light touch. This sends me insane…

I squeeze his balls in their fuzzy sac and extend my finger back along the ridge of skin, and I feel him move fractionally towards me, urging my finger further back. A few more hairs, slightly coarser than on his nuts reach my finger tip and it’s much warmer in the crevice of his cheeks. His other hand is moving slowly up and down the pale shaft of his dick now, blatantly wanking himself while I play with him. I must be doing something right then. Every few strokes his thumb swipes the pre-cum off his helmet and smears it down the length of him. Simon leans forward again, this time a tiny knee-shuffle brings him closer to me and my middle finger slips neatly into the warm, dark and surprisingly furry furrow of his arse.

“Oh yes mate,” more than a murmur this time, tearing myself away from his magnificent dick I look up at him in time to catch him looking directly into my eyes. Eyes telling me to carry on. Begging me to.

Now I know that when I’ve played around with my bum it’s been a bit dry back there. I’m not a total idiot, so I also know that it’s much ‘easier’ if there is a bit of lubrication. At home I’ve used a blob of hand cream swiped from the bathroom. As if he can read my thoughts, wordlessly Simon stops his intense nipple stroking and reaches towards the bedside table and opens the drawer, and his hand returns with a smallish black bottle. Durex. What the fuck? He’s got that? Where from? You twat Adam, the internet of course. Like my pants. Thank God for online shopping. My face must show what I am thinking.

“Be nicer with this,” he says quietly.

He tenderly takes my wrist and gently pulls it forward, his hard dick bobbing around in front of him as he moves around, my hand is now outstretched in his grip. He flips the cap and squeezes a blob of clear gel onto my middle finger, and reverses his action, guiding my hand back into place under him. Mesmerized I watch as he squeezes the bottle again, this time just above his glistening cock head, a blob of gel landing and sliding down like the sauce on ice cream cone.

My slick finger finds its rightful place quickly this time and he gasps loudly as it makes contact with his furred hole. Immediately his right hand takes up a steady rhythm on his now slick dick, a dirty little squelch every time his foreskin is reached. His other hand has found my hard on and it’s now rapidly spreading damp patch on the front of my boxers, he kneads and squeezes along with his own tempo.

Moving my finger tip in circles I feel his tight hole closed to me, surrounded by softish hairs in his arse crack. The lube makes it easy to glide over and around, over and around, and by the third or fourth circuit his hole seems to feel different. It’s been the same when I’ve played with myself down there, shut up tight to start with and gradually, gradually, the more relaxed I get, and hornier I get, the more it opens. The next swipe I hover right on his opening and Simon groans, arching his back a little and with a little push backwards from him the very tip of my finger goes inside him.

“Oh my fucking… Yeah Adam. Yeah,”

He pushes backwards a little more and my finger easily slides into his moist, very warm hole. It seems made to fit there, and he lets out a deep grunt as it happens, startling me a bit. I try not to think about what else might be in there.

“Fuck, sorry mate. Is that alright?” I am worried I’ve hurt him.

“That. Is. More. Than. Alright.” He seems unable to speak properly. “That feels… Bloody amazing Adam.”

Thank fuck for that. They say everything feels better when someone else does it. Well, I read it online…

“I’m gonna cum soon if you keep jacking my dick like that,” Simon’s work through my boxers nearly had me over the edge, the bright orange now almost all darker where what seems like a litre of my pre-cum has soaked the front of them.

“Are you… OK?” He looks down on me like a giant, glistening dick grasped in his fist. “Wanna get these off?” He asks, shoving his free hand down inside my saturated undies and wanking me once. I nod, like a dirty naughty, schoolboy caught doing something bad. He lets go of his dick and deftly slides my boxers off of my hips and down over my bare feet.

Oh yeah, it feels so good to be free! My dick bounces up immediately, a string of clear slippery pre-cum attaching itself to my belly and my slick helmet. Simon licks his lips and makes a low noise in his mouth. He looks right into my eyes, and all I do is move my chin down fractionally. Accepting his unspoken request. He sits back on his haunches and I move my hands behind my head, so that I can watch him tenderly stroke my solid dick with one hand while he cups my heavy balls with the other. He feels like a feather touching my bare, sensitive skin, the warm breeze from his mouth caressing my exposed and glistening head. His mouth is barely a few millimetres from me, Simon turns his eyes to mine and takes my cock head into his mouth.

“Awwwww…. Fuck!” It feels like nothing I have ever experienced before. Ever. Even my best cum was rubbish compared to the feeling of Simon sucking, licking and slurping on my dick. Happy he’s making me happy his eyes close and he spends the next few minutes exploring the length and breadth of my dick with his tongue and lips. I never feel his teeth once, just wet, warm softness on my most private and tender parts, all the while one hand rolling and feeling up my balls in my slightly fuzzy sac. Occasionally a finger tip probes a little lower and I get a spark right from my bumhole to my cock, making it swell up inside his mouth. He must be able to feel it grow momentarily as he groans each time in appreciation.

I am getting really close… My sexy, horny mate seems to have sensed it and has sped up, now noisily slobbering up and down my solid shaft, tickling under my helmet with the tip of his tongue is sending me over the edge.

“Si, mate. I’m gonna cum!” I am panting, and sweating, my fingers gripping the duvet beneath me, “Ahhh, shit!” I try to push his head away from the impending eruption in my groin, but he grips my wrists and won’t let me. He pauses for half a second.

“Go for it,” And heads straight back down to business.

Sucking me into his mouth with a slurp, his left hand between my legs, I feel his index finger in my crack, I part my legs a little wider and he turns his head, my engorged cock still in his mouth, and a question passes across his face. I reply with another barely visible nod. His finger presses into me, retreats and comes across my pubes, collecting a blob of his spit and my pre-cum that’s appeared there. All of a sudden I feel so dirty, so disgusting, but so fucking horny. My cock swells of its own accord and then I feel his smooth, perfect finger at my hole, smearing me with our natural lube, I take a deep breath in, an audible gasp of pure ecstasy as my arse hole accepts Simon inside, his whole finger inside my tight hole, my cock swells and my balls tighten. I throw my head back on the bed and cum for all my might, my arse clamping down hard on his finger, my hand clamping down on his head, his mouth clamped to my dick. We are both thrashing about on the bed, and I can’t help but moan and whimper and shout. It is the hardest, most intense cum I’ve ever had, my whole body convulsing as I pump it out of me and into him. Nothing like my quick wanks, or my longer ones with my own finger on my bum hole with time and an empty house.

Quiet. Oh my God. Simon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his face red and hair dampened and sticking to his forehead. He looks at me, smiles. I smile back, my face equally red, sweating. An aftershock suddenly runs from my invaded hole to my heart and I shiver, making my cock rise for a moment. He can’t resist.

“Fucking hell mate, I need a rest before round two,” he smirks at me from between my thighs and he climbs up the bed, climbs up my body, keeping his body in contact with mine the whole time. Simon snuggles his head into the gap between my neck and shoulder, reaches over and pulls my face to his.

“That, was beautiful. You are beautiful,” and I can see he really means it.

As if my face couldn’t be any redder I feel my ears now burning. He can’t mean that. We’re just two nearly-17-year-old lads getting each other’s rocks off aren’t we?

“So are you,” I have said it before I can process the meaning of the words. He is. He is beautiful. He is…

I hold the back of his head and pull his lips to mine, I push my tongue against his lips, but he seems reluctant to let me in. I pull his head toward me more, wondering why he’s suddenly shy about snogging me, I mean he’s just had my cock in his mouth for goodness sake. Then he opens his mouth and sucks me in, our breath shared, our tongues tasting. And I realise. He tastes of my cum.

The briefest of hesitations alerts him. He gently pulls his still wet lips from mine.

“You sure?” His palm is warm in the small of my back.

“You taste of cum. My cum. I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t… Sorry…” I pull his face to mine and lick his lips, which I can feel makes him smile, I take the opportunity and push myself inside him again, now relishing the salty/sweetness in his mouth.

My cock his rock hard again now, I want more. I want Simon. I want to see how he tastes. Just out of interest you understand. I gently roll him onto his back, not breaking our kiss, my exploration of his perfect, his un-filled teeth, my battle with his unruly tongue and constantly smiling lips. He moans quietly as I pull his arms above his head, holding both of his hands in one of mine and pressing my whole body onto him. My own erection is snuggled against his now solid cock, I can feel the pre-cum from his leaking head slick and sticky as I rub myself against him, his fox-red pubes tickling my sensitive helmet. He must have really got off on giving me that blow-job, he’s pretty wet down there already.

I leave go of his hands and they stay there, exposing those gloriously sexy armpits of his, equally fox-red hair there too, but not as much as above the silky smooth pale pole I am now heading for. Astride Simon now I scooch down his smooth chest, pausing very briefly to plant my tongue in his belly button, and he squeals like a little girl, head snapping up in an instant… I’ve found a magic place then…

He flops back down, breathing more heavily before, flat chest rising and falling in front of my lowered eyes, focussed on my prize. I place a hand on each of his bony hips and lower my head even more, inhaling deeply. Bloody hell he smells so good – all the fucking time. Even now, I can almost taste that hint of lemon… I must find out what he uses in the shower… Fuck, I hope I smelt OK down there. I want to taste him. I need to. I want him.

My tongue starts at the bottom of his dick, just above his nuts and swipes slowly up to the tip of his head, he’s warm and tastes of nothing, which is actually a bit of a relief. Not sure what I expected to find that his cock tasted of really, but anyway. He moans loudly and says my name quietly, reaches down a long arm and lays his hand gently on the top of my head.

“Good start, Adam, good start…”

I take that as a green light and do it again and again, making sure I’ve done all four sides, Simon’s wriggling when my tongue makes contact with the tiny valley between his pubes and the base of his now utterly hard dick. Gently, I cup his balls in my hand and give them the merest pull to move his beautifully leaking head towards my lips, open them and take him inside. A loud, elongated ‘fuck me’ rumbles from Simon’s throat as I savour the red-hot, swollen thing in my mouth. Spit is building up and I swallow it down, causing my tongue to roll over his most sensitive part, and I can see him throw his hands down into the duvet and grip it hard, either side of his long lean body. I suckle gently, not really knowing if I’m doing it right, but he throws his legs out and locks his ankles behind me, trapping me between his legs, an almost growled ‘yessss’ escaping from his lips. Obviously I’m doing something right. When he tenses his head seems to grow harder in my mouth, and remembering how much he liked my finger earlier, my hand wanders down underneath his bum, my middle finger slipping into his slightly furry ditch again. He rises up fractionally, pushing more of his dick into my mouth and I raise my finger in anticipation of his descent, and lower my head a bit further onto his dick.

My finger slips into him easily, his tight teen hole still lubed from earlier on. Shit, I’d forgotten lube, but good it’s still moist in there. His dick is now about halfway in my eager mouth, and I reckon that’s about my limit, size wise. I suck on him hard, and he sighs and groans, sighs and groans. I try to move my finger in him a bit, but his body weight doesn’t give me much of a chance, but I guess the rhythmic movement of my head and his hips combined must be doing something down there. He is so hot in there, and hot in my mouth too. Spit is running down my chin and down his dick moistening his fiery bush and I knead and press his pubes, loving the slightly wiry texture on my fingertips, my thumb and finger either side of him.

“Oh. Fuck. Yeah… Oh fuck. Oh fuck!” I am so caught up in my own horny mind he makes me jump. “Gonna… Oh Ada… Ugh! Yeah, suck my cock mate! Fuck me!” His dirty yelling has me hard as a rock.

I pull up from him and in the same split second his head erupts onto my partly open lips, my smooth chin and cum runs down my neck. He pumps and pumps and I give him a little hand riding his dick with my hand once or twice. The whole time my finger is safely clamped in his vice like arse – it feels like he came in there too, suddenly slicker and hotter, It’s like he’s wanking my finger with his arse muscles – is that even a thing?

“Jesus mate…” Simon looks like he’s about to explode, face glowing a beetroot scarlet, sweat running down his forehead.

“Was that OK? I mean, didn’t really know what I was doing, you know?” Suddenly I am worried.

“OK?” he squeals, “OK? Erm… Adam, look…” and he pulls his head up off the bed looks down his flat, cum covered belly and grins, a flat, white palm highlighting the aftermath. I smile. “Come here,”

Shit! My finger is still in him. Surely he knows this too?! Ugh, what the hell is it going to come out looking like. You know… I mean. Well, nothing else for it, and I slowly pull out of his hole. The merest muskiness meets my nose, I breath out, try not to look at my finger and see anything I don’t want to think about. I climb up him, like a baby monkey on its mother. His cum smears up my thigh, wet cock deflating to match mine. He takes my sweaty, cum caked head into his hands again and kisses me deeply, licking himself off of my chin.

“I taste of sausage rolls,” For fucks sake!

We lay like that for God knows how long, naked, spent, relaxed. Eventually I decide we both need a shower and I am bloody starving, and Simon says he is too, so why don’t we get that takeaway ordered? We decide on pizzas and he rings it through on his mobile.  We head to the shower while we wait for the food and I finally find out why he smells vaguely lemony. Simon grabs the shower gel bottle, a lurid, opaque yellow gel inside, and as soon as it’s open and he squeezes the gloop onto his flannel I can smell the familiar Simon-citrus scent.

“What is that stuff?” I ask him, as he soaps up is chest.

“Organic Sicilian Lemon shower gel. Why?” Simon replies, non-plussed by my question.

“Because it smells of you. Really nice.” I can feel my dick responding. Ugh!

“Does it? I suppose it does, as I use it every fucking day, you twat!” And with that he slaps my bum and makes a grab for my dick.

Dry and back in our clothes, the doorbell rings. At last, pizza. We both head down to the door, as the kitchen is on the ground floor anyhow. Simon opens the door with my back turned as I go and grab the cash from the table, and as I wander back through the hall towards the door, with my head down checking the notes in my hand, I ask no one in particular how much it is.

“Nineteen pounds, ninety nine pence, Adam,” replies Ed Miller. Stood at Simon’s door. Holding two pizza boxes.

“Err. What?” I am completely fazed. “Ed? I er… I mean, right. You’re delivering pizza.” I feel my face redden in a heartbeat. Heartbeats I can feel in my ear drums.

“Yep,” He is fine. He’s smiling. “And you’re…?” He looks into my eyes. He’s still holding our pizzas. Simon takes them from him.

“You two know each other then?” Simon asks innocently. Looking between my flaming scarlet face and Ed’s stubbled, easy smile.

“A little bit, yeah,” Miller says and smiles even more widely. “So what you guys been up to today?” And reaches down and grabs the bulge in his joggers.


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