A Year to Remember, Chapter Three - Sex Stories

A Year to Remember, Chapter Three

... adolescent flamingo, I bend my other leg up so that I can reach my foot without stooping. I can't pull my gaze away from his, our eyes are locked together in a 'boys-must-wank' hormonal union. I tug at the sock and pull it off my foot, now what? Okay, Simon Weird, if you want to play a game then we'll play a game, how far can I push you? I raise the sock up to my nose and sniff hard. My feet don't stink today, they don't ever really, so I know what to expect. The white, floppy sock just smells worn with a hint of floral scented, laundry detergent. It works though, Simon's free hand goes down to his crotch and he squeezes his cock through his boxers. “Oh, yeah...” Just about audible, I hear him though. “So, how shall we do this? Shall I strip down to my pants too?” “Yes, please,” Simon whispers. “Okay. I'm happy to give it a go but remember, I haven't done it like you have.” All the while I'm looking down at his upturned face. Simon is still kneeling on the floor, at my now bare feet. “Okay.” He makes to stand up. Steadying himself, he puts both hands on my feet. An electric charge runs right up through them, energising my whole body as it pulses up to my brain. No one has ever touched my bare feet before. Man, that was a jolt of something really hot, a couple of seconds of pure ecstasy. I realise that I'm rooted to the spot, in a sort of no-mans-land. Simon has climbed onto the bed and is laying back with his head against the wall, looking at me from behind. “Come on ...

... then. For fucks sake, Adam!” he almost shrieks, his cock is now tenting his briefs, obscenely. The sock business worked then. I file away that useful information in the 'smut' folder of my teenage memory bank. “Okay! Okay! Keep your hair on!” I walk over to the edge of the bed and undo my belt, I am being watched intently. I feel nervous and self conscious, I am not an exhibitionist. But what was that with the sock earlier? Perhaps I need a reason... I shrug the jeans down over my hips and reveal my tight, black boxer briefs to the room and to Simon. I watch him bite his lip, tongue darting out. He catches my eye and I decide to smile, not something that comes easily to me, generally. His face dissolves into a wide smile and he laughs, a beautiful, easy sound, that I think I rather like. I step out of the jeans, undo the top two buttons of my shirt and the cuffs then pull it off, over my head. So, here we are...we're even. “Satisfied?” I ask Simon. He's making quite a reasonable go at the staring now. “Hmm?” I've interrupted him checking me out, his eyes are swivelling from one end of me to the other, lingering in the midriff area. “Now, I'm in the same state as you?” “Oh, yeah.” he answers, but it doesn't interfere with his survey of me. “Simon!” I'm flattered, but getting a bit miffed that he's being quite so blatant. I flop down next to him, purposely putting twelve inches space between our lithe bodies. “Sorry.” He mumbles. He bucks his hips, puts his thumbs into the tight ...