Just realised it's been over a year since I wrote on this. Been very busy with work and trying to figure out the direction of the story. Anyway, here is the latest chapter... As ever, send me feedback to maninnotts@yahoo.co.uk
Chapter 12
Simon arrived home to an empty house. His arse felt a bit sore from the pounding it had taken from Andy and Bill, but the memory of their hard cocks sliding in and out gave him another hard on. He was also aware that he felt very tired, but decided that it would be a good idea to smoke a spliff and then get some sleep. As no-one was home he hadn't need to change, so he was still wearing his new shiny tracksuit, the material making even more noise as he moved than his other tracksuit. He hadn't really seen what it looked like on him yet so he headed to the bathroom and examined himself in the full-length mirror; it looked every bit as horny as he thought it would. From the front he could see the material gleaming in his reflection; the large Opel symbol on the bottoms and the chest simply added to the overall look of the tracksuit. Turning around and glancing over his shoulder he saw the huge Opel logo on the back and the hood hanging down from his shoulders. He pulled the hood over his head and started feeling his cock through the nylon material. Fucking hell' he thought, This suit is fucking awesome.'
He pulled a packet of Rizla, a pack of Marlboro and the hash that Andy had given him earlier from his pockets. Carefully, he pulled a cigarette apart and placed the tobacco into a paper before heating some hash and crumbling it on top. Then he tore a piece of card from the Rizla pack and rolled it into a tube before placing it into one end of the paper. Now the tricky part; he clumsily picked up the paper and rolled it in his fingers, trying desperately to get the paper to catch so it would roll. He struggled a couple of times before managing to finally get it to catch and licked the gum. Lifting up the spliff he was quite proud: it was still much looser than any rolled by Andy or Dale, but it was definitely smokable. Rather than risk getting the smell of pot in the house he headed to the back yard and lit up outside.
Taking a deep drag on the joint Simon caught a glimpse of his reflection in the patio doors; he loved the image of himself wearing the tracksuit and smoking at the same time and it made his cock swell. He pulled up the hood on the tracksuit and dragged hard again, taking another big drag before exhaling. The joint was dropping burning hash rapidly but as he was standing up it made no difference. He resolved to make sure that his new tracksuit didn't get any burns like his other one. As he smoked the joint down towards the roach he could feel the cannabis coursing through his body and making him feel very stoned. Taking a final drag he heard a sound from the front of the house, rather like a car door closing.
Shit.' He though. Sounds like mum must be home.'
His heart started pounding as he flicked the roach behind the bin and quickly went back into the living room. As he did so the front door opened. Hi mum put her car keys on the table and caught sight of Simon wearing his full tracksuit.
`Hello Simon. How was school?'
`It was alright.'
`Is that new?
`What?'
`That tracksuit.'
`Yeah. I got it cheap at a shop near school.'
`Oh.'
The thrill of almost being caught smoking a spliff and wearing his tracksuit almost sent his cock over the edge.
`Have you been smoking?'
`No.'
`I can smell it Simon. Don't lie to me.'
`I had a cigarette outside'
`You know we don't like you smoking. It'll kill you.'
`Yeah.'
Simon's brother Jake came into the room. Jake was 15 and getting to an age when he was more interested in what his older brother was doing.
`What's going on?' asked Jake.
`Nothing.' Said Simon and his mum simultaneously.
`Is that a new tracksuit?' asked Jake.
`Nah, had it a while.'
`I haven't seen you wear it before. It looks cool.'
`Yeah, I like it.'
`Not your usual style though!'
Simon laughed nervously. `Anyway, I've got some homework to do.'
He went to his room and lay on the bed thinking about his day. It had been very eventful and, although it had hurt at the time, he had really enjoyed losing his virginity to Andy and Bill and wanted more. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.
He awoke a few hours later to the sound of the message tone on his phone. It was from Dale.
`Hi m8, got ur number from Andy. Wat u up 2?'
Simon texted back `Not much. Just had a kip.'
`Cool. Wanna meet in a bit? Come round mine'
`Ok.'
Looking at the clock on his phone he noticed it was 7.30. No problem going out, especially as it was a Friday night. He rolled up a couple of joints, each one better than the previous and got dressed. As he had been seen wearing the PSG tracksuit earlier he decided he would wear it tonight; it would gave Dale something to talk about when he saw it. He went into the living room where his mother was watching TV.
`I'm just going round Nick's' he said.
`Alright love. Be back by 11.'
He left the house and walked towards the end of the street feeling very self-conscious because of his clothes. It was already dark, but even so the light from the streetlamps reflected off the shiny navy material making it shimmer in the orange glow. On top of that, although he was trying not to make much noise, every movement swished as he walked. He pulled up the hood and lit up a cigarette. Walking through the park he decided to smoke one of his spliffs. There weren't many people around as it was fairly dark in the park and walking whilst smoking made him feel much more relaxed.
By the time he reached the bus stop he was feeling good. Although the rush hour was over, there were still quite a few people waiting for the bus and he could feel the eyes looking at him, although whenever he looked at anybody the quickly looked away. He lit a cigarette and inhaled sharply; something caught in his throat and he broke into a cough which produced some phlegm. He turned away from the other people in the queue and spat it on the floor. He caught the eye of a man in a suit who looked at him distastefully, but looked away as soon as Simon saw him. He pumped the cigarette hard, barely exhaling before taking another drag; still no sign of the bus. A friend had once told him that the best way of making a bus arrive was to light a cigarette: Sod's law dictates that as soon as you do the bus will arrive. He reached into the pocket of his tracksuit, aware of the noise it was making and pulled out his Marlboro reds, lighting a new one from the butt of the old one. As soon as he took two drags the bus hove into view and stopped at the lights just down from the bus stop.
`Damn, I'm not wasting a cigarette.' Thought Simon.
He pumped hard on the cigarette taking drag after drag and exhaling through his nose as he did so; he could feel his head becoming light. The other passengers shuffled onto the bus, tapping their Oyster cards against the reader. As he boarded the bus he took three lung- busting drags and tossed his cigarette into the gutter. Pulling his oyster card from his pocket, he too tapped the reader and headed upstairs towards the back seats.
A couple of lads were sitting two seats in front of him, both wearing blue Adidas tracksuit bottoms with white stripes and light blue hoodies with some sort of sports club logo, although he couldn't make out what it said without staring too intently.
`Mmm. Very nice. I've always wanted to be part of a sports team and wear a uniform. Imagine being a football player and being issued with new kit every season.'
He turned his mind to rolling a couple more spliffs on the back seat of the bus. He was aware that cctv operated on the bus, but felt he would be safe hidden behind the seats. It was much more difficult rolling up on a moving bus, but he managed to assemble two passable spliffs before realising he was almost at his stop. He got up with a start and raced to the front of the bus towards the stairs, banging into one of the lads in the hoodies as he did so.
`Sorry' he muttered.
The lad looked at him from under beautiful blonde hair which spread down over his ears, his deep blue eyes searching into Simon's'
"No problem mate."
Simon could now see that the hoodies were Milwall football club and looked like player issue.
"Must be coming back from a training session; probably playing in the under 18s' he thought.
He made the stairs and almost fell out of the door as the bus stopped: Dale's estate at last. In the autumn evening darkness the estate looked glum and forbidding. It seemed that at least every other streetlight had been vandalised so crossing to Dale's house involved navigating pitch darkness punctuated by pools of light from the working streetlamps. He lit up a cigarette and steeled himself to wander down the alleyway towards the courtyard. As he did so he spotted a young kid, probably no older than 11 walking towards him.
"Hey mate, gotta a fag?"
Simon looked at the kid: he was about a foot shorter than him but looked pretty tough. Even if he wasn't a problem he was sure he had some older mates who would come to his aid.
"No problem."
He pulled out his cigarettes and gave him two.
"Cheers mate. Gotta light?"
He didn't trust this kid not to steal his lighter so he sparked a flame and held it to the end of the cigarette.
"Cheers." Said the kid and walked off.
He made it to Simon's block without any further incident and rang the buzzer.
"Yeah?"
"Dale? It's Simon."
"Ok mate. Come on up."
The buzzer sounded and Simon pushed open the door. He walked into the lift, noticing once again the smell of stale urine. The doors clanked shut and the lift headed slowly upwards finally reaching Dale's floor. He walked to the door and found it already open.
"Alright mate?" asked Dale
"Yeah, fine." Said Simon, pulling a cigarette from his packet and lighting up.
"Hey, you know those fags you lent me? A guy on the estate was selling some cheap fags and I picked up 400 for 20 quid. He only had Camel filterless left, but still fucking good for the price. You wanna buy some? I could sell you 200 for 15 quid."
"Let me try one first."
He took a cigarette from the pack that Dale offered, placing his Marlboro, still burning, into the ashtray. He lit the Camel and took his usual deep drag. The unfiltered smoke hit his lungs with a bang; it was much thicker and stronger than the Marlboros. The taste was also very different; at first it was overpowering but after a few drags he actually quite liked it. He could also felt a little bit light headed due to the extra strength. Overall they were a smoke that he really enjoyed.
"Ok, deal."
They headed to Dale's bedroom; it was only now that he noticed what Dale was wearing: the top that he had lent Simon a few days ago was paired with the matching tracksuit bottoms. A white hooded nylon-style Nike tracksuit top with white nylon-style tracksuit bottoms, both with a hint of red.
"Mmmm, fucking gorgeous trackie.' Thought Simon. "I could make love to him right here."
"What you wearin'?" asked Dale.
"Oh, Andy gave it to me today. Do you like it?"
"Fuck mate, it's sick! Andy gets some fucking good shit. Was it from his mate?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
"I sometimes get trackies from Andy; he gets `em cheap from his mate. Knock-offs from deliveries to the shop where he works."
It all made sense now. He wondered if he could get more gear from him cheaply. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a spliff.
"What the fuck's that?" Laughed Dale.
"It's the best I could do." Replied Simon, sheepishly.
"Yeah, took me a while to learn how to do it properly. Keep practising mate, although seeing how quickly you've taken to weed I'm sure you will."
Simon lit his spliff, making sure that nothing could land on his tracksuit bottoms, and took a deep drag. He had crumbled a lot of cannabis into the joint and it hit him fairly quickly. He could feel his penis bulging and, without realising what he was doing, reached down and adjusted it into a more comfortable position. Looking up, he noticed Dale watching him with a grin.
"You getting off in that tracksuit mate?" he laughed.
"Nah. You know how it is. You just get hard sometimes for no reason."
Although looking at Dale, resplendent in his white tracksuit, he could feel his cock hardening even more.
"Yeah right. Just like you're not getting off on me in the gear I'm wearing!"
Dale reached over and yanked Simon's cock which instantly responded by twitching against the nylon material. Dale started rubbing his hand along the bulge, swishing the nylon as he did so.
"Quite some piece you're packing there mate!" commented Dale. "Almost puts me to shame"
Simon felt quite relaxed. "Nah, I saw yours the other day; you have nothing to be ashamed of!"
Dale smiled. Simon noticed that when Dale smiled his features took on an almost angelic hue; he had dimples which indented beautifully when his mouth formed the smile. His eyes twinkled with an almost innocent look which melted Simon's heart, not that it needed much melting given that his clothes alone made him want to grab him there and then, hugging him tightly and caressing his lean torso with his own nylon-clad arms.
"That trackie is so awesome mate." Said Dale.
"I like yours too. It's great."
"Thanks" replied Dale almost bashfully. "It's one of my favourites. Bought it about six months ago; took me ages to find my size. I had to go around nearly every JD in London!"
"That's commitment!" joked Simon
"To tell you the truth, if I could I would wear trackies all the time. I just find them so comfortable. I love the way I can just put my hand down the front and readjust if you know what I mean!"
"Yeah. You can't do that in jeans!"
"Exactly. I don't know why everyone doesn't wear them. Also, anyone who does wear them should have their hands down there all the time!"
Simon was enjoying this conversation. Talking about their mutual love for sportswear was completely enthralling. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago he had never worn a tracksuit in public. He decided to expand upon the subject a little more.
"I can almost see why you guys like wearing tracksuits so much."
"Really? It's as much an image as anything else. Whenever anyone sees someone wearing a tracksuit they instantly judge you. You may have noticed this already from the looks you get walking around wearing yours."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. They almost look down on you."
"When I first started wearing scally gear I used to feel very self-conscious. I thought everyone was looking at me and laughing. After a while I realised that they had better things to worry about and that they were actually quite intimidated by me. If I walk down the street wearing a full tracksuit with my hood pulled up and smoking a cigarette people tend to avoid me. On the other hand, other scallies will tend to eye you up. They will check out what you're wearing. If it's cool then they will respect you."
"How long have you been wearing this gear then?"
"My dad left us when I was about 11. Before then we lived in a nice house over in Essex. I wasn't the sort of kid to mess around the way I do now. In primary school I was considered bright and always did well in class work. That all changed once he left; well, my mum kicked him out really. Turns out he'd been having it off with his secretary at work. Fucking killed me that did."
"I bet it did."
"Yeah. I was in tears the day he left. I was angry at my mum at the time, but I now understand she had to do it. Turns out it wasn't the first time. I've only seen the cunt three times since then, the last time about two years ago. Last I heard he had two kids by her; I bet he fucks them off when they start getting needy. "
"Sounds like a real cunt."
"Yeah, we were in a great house and had everything we needed. My mum was devastated; she couldn't work for weeks afterwards and hit the bottle pretty hard. She doesn't earn very much, so we lost the house after six months. We lived in a bedsit in Bethnal Green for nearly a year until the council got us this place. It aint much, but it's home!"
Simon laughed uncomfortably.
"Eventually my mum sorted herself out a bit and got a new job. She works shifts though, which means I sometimes don't see her for a couple of weeks. As for me, I went off the rails a bit. I just didn't care anymore. When we moved here I realised I needed to fit in, so I took to wearing trackies like the other kids. After a while it became second nature and before I knew it I was a full-blown scally!"
"I can't imagine you as anything else"
"Yeah, been doing it so long now it's second nature."
"When did you start smoking?"
"Blow or smokes?"
"Both I guess"
"The place in Bethnal Green was tiny; literally two single beds, a kitchen unit in the corner, and a shared bathroom down the corridor. Mum was smoking shit loads at the time; with the drinking it was her way of coping I guess. The room was always filled with a pall of stale smoke. I started nicking the odd smoke from her packet when she was sleeping off the booze. Took me a while to get used to it; first time I smoked I vomited and nearly passed out. My mum smokes JPS, so they're pretty strong. Anyways, I'm a determined kid and I made myself smoke through it. My mum buys a carton of 200 every week, and I stole a couple of packs each week. By the time I turned 13 I was smoking nearly ten a day. Then one day I gets home from school and my mum is standing there looking really pissed off with a pack of cigarettes in her hand."
"' Dale, have you been smoking?' she says.
`No' I responded, trying to look like an innocent 13 year old.
`Turn out your pockets'
So I turns out me jeans (this was before I became a scally remember) and there is my packet of JPS I'd nicked from her that morning.
`Dale, I'm so disappointed in you. Not only for the smoking, but for stealing from me. Why didn't you say?'
`I thought you'd go nuts.'
`I don't like you smoking, but it's your choice. What I don't like is you stealing from me. How many do you smoke a day?'
Time to come clean I thought. `About ten.'
`Ten? Jesus, you're only thirteen! Ah well, I guess it's too late now. Look, don't steal any more from me and I'll make sure you have your own cigarettes, deal?'
`Ok mum.' I was so fucking relieved. I thought she'd go mental, but here she was offering to keep me supplied. The next day she brought a carton of Mayfair home along with her usual 200 JPS.
Here you go. These are a bit cheaper. Cos I'm buying for both of us now I have to economise.'
Since then my intake increased to at least 20 a day. Now I can smoke at home I smoke at least four before I leave the house. When my mum has Sunday night off we sit and watch TV together and smoke loads of fags. It's bonding really. I guess I smoke nearly forty some days now I think about it! You must be getting bored hearing about all this?"
"No, carry on."
"As for blow, I started smoking that when we moved here. At first I tried fitting in by adopting the same look as the other lads; wearing trackies and smoking fags. After a while I got to know some of lads once they thought I was alright, you know? That was when one of them offered me some blow. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought what the fuck? I bought an eighth and the guy gave me some papers to go with it. I had no idea how to roll and trust me, my first efforts make yours look competent! I took to it like a duck to water. I smoked that first eighth in one weekend and haven't looked back since. I guess I smoke nearly an eighth a day now."
"Shit! That's a lot!"
"Nothing compared to Andy. He easily gets through a quarter a day. He can afford it."
"How?"
"He does a bit of dealing. I reckon he sells enough to pay for what he smokes. He also has other stuff on the go. If you want anything, Andy is your man. You know when I bought that tracky the other day?"
"Yeah."
"That's the first time I bought anything in the shop for ages. I usually look in JD and anything catches my fancy I get Andy to pick it up for me. Thing is, I love that tracky the first time I set eyes on it and had to have it."
"So if I wanted another tracky I'd ask Andy?"
"Why would you want more, you aint scally!" laughed Dale
"Well, I seem to be getting through them. The one I bought yesterday is already fucked!"
"That's the thing about smoking blow; fucking hot rocks always burning your trackies! Show me a scally and I'll show you scud marks on his trackies!"
"Do all scallies smoke blow?"
"Any self-respecting ones do. If you're in a group and don't take the spliff then you get called queer."
Simon thought about this for a moment.
"Shit, I just realised how fucked up my life is." Said Dale with a deep sense of sadness. He was tearing up and finding it hard to control his emotions, probably as a result of the cannabis. He started sobbing and Simon was unsure how to respond. Should he act tough or try and comfort Dale? He reached over and rubbed Dale's thigh. Dale's sobbing grew worse and he broke into tears.
"My fucking useless dad" he sobbed. "My mum puts up with so much shit from me and it's all his fucking fault."
Simon reached over and touched Dale on the arm. Dale responded by clasping Simons hand and pulling it around his back. Simon took his other arm and gave Dale a hug; he was conscious that Dale had opened his heart to him and that he needed some support. Dale looked up at him with tear-stained eyes and a look of gratefulness. He returned Simon's embrace and the two hugged tightly for a couple of minutes. Before he knew what he was doing, Simon slipped his hand further down and rubbed the small of Dale's back. Dale jolted and Simon pulled away sharply not knowing why he had done it and if Dale was pissed off.
"Thanks for that mate." Said Dale. "You're the first person I've really talked to about all this. Let's have a drink and drown our sorrows."
With that, Dale reached behind a chest of drawers and produced an almost full litre bottle of vodka.
"Good thing mum likes her vodka" he said, "she never notices when I pinch the odd bottle."
He poured two large measures into pint glasses. "Cheers mate. Thanks for listening to my shit."
"Any time." Replied Simon. "If you ever want to talk about it then feel free."
"Thanks man. Means a lot to me. For some reason you're different from the others; I fell that I can talk to you and you won't take the piss. Maybe it's because you aint scally!"
"I'll drink to that!" Laughed Simon.
They clinked glasses and drank deeply. Simon took out his papers and rolled a spliff. He was becoming more proficient by this time and although he was nowhere near the standard of the others, his joints had become quite passable and where no longer the instant butt of someone's joke. He lit the end and drew deeply; without exhaling, he took another long drag and packed the smoke deep into his lungs. Again, without exhaling, he took one huge drag and inhaled as far as his lungs would allow. He repeated the feat as soon as he had exhaled the previous smoke and then took another few gulps of the vodka. It was cheap vodka, and bit at his throat somewhat, especially considering the number of cigarettes he had been smoking recently. He tapped the ash from the joint and handed it to Dale. Then, remembering the Camels that Dale had given him, he fished around in the soft packet and pulled out a filterless. He tapped the end of the cigarette against the packet before placing in between his lips and igniting.
"What were you doing?" asked Dale
"I saw it in a movie once; one of the Die Hards maybe? Apparently it packs the tobacco in one end so that you don't keep getting mouthfuls when you drag on the cigarette."
"You're a right fucking expert aren't you" mocked Dale as he took three or four large gulps of vodka. "Top you up?"
Simon held his glass over for Dale to empty more vodka into it. The bottle was already half empty and Simon could feel the now familiar mix of alcohol and pot dulling his senses and his inhibitions.
"You know, I really like that new tracky you bought" he said. "I was looking at it on the shelf when you were trying it on. I love the colourway"
"Yeah, the colours are awesome. I love that sort of material too. It's kind of like a nylon. I like the noise it makes when I walk around."
"Really?" asked Simon, sounding very interested.
"Yeah. For me it's kind of like bright colours. It announces me and makes people look when they can hear you coming."
"Yeah I think so too." Replied Simon, although he really thought that the material itself turned him on, although he didn't want to admit it to Dale. He dragged on the remainder of his filterless cigarette; it was almost burning his fingers, but he still managed another two drags, before coughing and stubbing it out in the ashtray. He reached into the packet and lit another almost without thinking. HE gave another cough as his throat protested at the onslaught of unfiltered tobacco both from the cigarettes and joints; he coughed and coughed, but something seem to be caught there and he couldn't shift it, so he drained the rest of his vodka before noticing that Dale was holding the spliff out for him.
"Ta" said Simon, placing his fresh camel on the ashtray before draining the spliff in four long drags.
"Damn mate, you look like a fucking smoking machine!" Laughed Dale.
Simon chuckled. "How about some more vodka?"
Dale grinned and took Simon's glass. Acting like a waiter in a posh restaurant, he carefully measure the vodka until it was exactly equal in both glasses.
"Here you go Sir" said Dale in his poshest voice.
"Thank you Jeeves"
Dale grinned. His dimples gave him a very youthful, cheeky look; Simon couldn't help but think that he looked gorgeous.
"Let's have a look at that tracky you bought the other day."
"OK."
Dale went to the wardrobe and pulled out a JD Sports bag. "Haven't even taken the labels off yet!"
He pulled the bottoms out of the bag and held them against his leg. Then he carefully removed the price tags and slipped out of his white tracksuit bottoms revealing a nice bulge in his boxer briefs. He pushed his feet through the legs of the bottoms and slid them up his legs and over his perfectly defined buttocks. Next he pulled the jacket out of the bag and held it up admiringly. Simon was completely transfixed. Dale unzipped his hooded top and threw it onto the floor. He pulled down the zip of the new jacket and, after removing the tags, pulled it over his arms and pulled the zip to the top.
"Mmmm. Feels great on. Although it said on the label that it's made out of polyester it feels more like nylon." He rubbed his hand on his thigh. "Here, come and feel"
Simon got unsteadily to his feet and sat next to Dale. He was feeling quite drunk by this time and did not hesitate to rub his hand along Dale's thigh and even went a bit further up the groin. "I see what you mean. Feels well nice." Simon really meant it; as his hand rubbed along the silky material all of his senses tingled. He sat down next to Dale, his leg touching the tracksuit bottoms. Dale pulled out his rolling papers and Simon followed suit. There followed a couple of minutes of silence as each contemplated their thoughts over what had just happened. After he had inserted the roach into the joint, Simon reached down unsteadily to his vodka glass and drained the remaining liquid in five big gulps. His head was already starting to spin and it took all his remaining senses to get the joint lit. Once this was done he lay back and smoked steadily. Dale, who was feeling every bit as drunk as Simon did likewise and the too teens lay smoking their joints in silence.
"You look so good wearing that tracksuit." Said Simon.
"Thanks mate. You look really hot in yours"
"You mean that?"
"Yeah, you look kind of cute dressed as a scally. I mean, it's obvious you're not a scally, but the gear suits you."
"Why is it obvious that I'm not a scally?"
"Your hair for one. No self-respecting scally would sport that haircut!" Dale ruffled Simon's hair in a friendly fashion. Simon responded by grinning widely.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about getting a new haircut. Fancy coming with me tomorrow?"
"Sure. Got fuck all else to do. I'd just sit around smoking and drinking all day anyway."
Simon finished his spliff. His head felt really heavy now and he laid it against what he thought was a pillow and promptly fell asleep.