The latest instalment in the Scally Simon story. Sorry for the delay! If anyone wants to see pics of some of the gear I've described then email me at maninnotts@yahoo.com. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 11
Simon awoke fairly early the next morning. His head hurt, and his stomach was churning. His lungs felt very heavy and he gave a cough; nothing shifted so he coughed again which tickled his throat. He coughed heavily for about thirty seconds and hacked up a lump of yellow mucus which he spat into a piece of tissue, smiling as he did so remembering Andy's coughing from the previous day. Even though his lungs felt abused by yesterday's heavy smoking he was aware of a deep craving for a cigarette immediately on waking; he'd never felt the need for a cigarette so strongly before. Climbing out of bed Simon took a look at his watch: it was 7.15AM. It was Friday, so a pretty easy day of school with only a maths lesson and an economics lesson to get through. Even so, he didn't really feel like going to school; yesterday had been both interesting and fun and he wondered what the other lads were up to today. He didn't have Dale's mobile number so he sent a text to Andy before going to have a shower. Twenty minutes later he came back into his room and checked his mobile: there was a message from Andy: Cum nd c me at London Bridge station wear ur tracksuit.
Simon was intrigued by this message; no time was given and Andy didn't say what he was planning to do. Nevertheless, he put on his tracksuit bottoms with no underwear and wore his school trousers over the top; he wore a Lacoste polo shirt (a present from his mother on his birthday) under his school shirt, and stuffed the tracksuit into his schoolbag along with his hat. Finally he placed his trainers into a plastic bag and put it on top of his tracksuit. Taking his cigarettes and lighter from his hiding place, Simon left his bedroom and headed downstairs. His father had already left for the city and his mother was just preparing breakfast for his sister and younger brother.
"You're up early this morning darling."
"Yes mum, got some work to do in the library before school. Bye!"
He left the flat and headed towards the park. In the park he went towards some bushes; he removed his school shoes and trousers, and slid his feet into the Lacoste trainers. Next he took off his blazer and school shirt, stuffing them both into his school bag after he removed the tracksuit top and hat. Sliding both arms into the tracksuit jacket he felt a surge of pleasure as the cold nylon covered his arms. Finally he put on the hat and his transformation into a scally was complete. He opened the pack of Marlboro and removed one of the remaining two cigarettes, lighting it quickly. Simon drew very deeply on the cigarette as it flamed into life, forcing the smoke deep into his lungs; he quickly took another two drags and held the smoke for about thirty seconds before releasing a billowing cloud of grey smoke. This triggered another tickle at the back of his throat and he coughed uncontrollably for a minute before finally restoring calm and taking another drag. He hacked up some more phlegm and spat the mess onto the floor. "Better get some more cigarettes" he thought, heading to the shop on the other side of the park where he usually bought his tobacco.
"Forty Marlboro reds please." He said to the shop owner.
"Forty? You only bought a pack the other day. Smoking a lot recently?" joked the shopkeeper.
Simon handed over his money and exited the shop, heading towards the station.
London Bridge is an extremely busy station in the morning rush hour. Train after train pulled in from the South and South East disgorging thousands of besuited commuters who made their way towards the city. Simon paused outside and lit another cigarette, coughing again, but not so violently this time. His stomach still felt very queasy, but his headache had eased, although his temple was till badly bruised from the previous night. He sent a text to Andy to let him know that he had arrived at the station."Meet me at platform 9" came the almost immediate response. He headed towards the platform using his travelcard to enter through the gate. His phone buzzed: another text from Andy. "Enter the fourth carriage from the front"
Simon walked along the platform, once again aware of the looks he was getting from people due to his attire: the tracksuit was making its usual sounds as his arms and legs brushed against each other and it still had a slight scent of urine as well as the stains from the previous day. He entered the fourth carriage and saw Andy: he was wearing royal blue tracksuit bottoms and a matching hooded top; the top had no zip, and his hood was pulled over his head in the style he'd shown Simon the previous day. It was made from a cotton material and, although Simon generally preferred the nylon-style tracksuits he instantly thought it was the sexiest tracksuit ever. This must have shown in his face as Andy asked him straight out:
"Hey poofter; you like the tracksuit I see."
"Erm, yeah. It's great. Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd go to Croydon today. I want to show you some shit."
The train lurched out of London Bridge and Andy started to roll a joint. He rolled four in total in about ten minutes.
"Hey, can you get me some blow?" asked Simon.
"Sure mate. I can get it for twenty five for a quarter. Give me ten now and I'll give you an eighth until I get some more sorted." Andy pulled out a bag and removed a lump of hash wrapped in cellophane. Simon took it and held it to his noise.
"It's good shit mate. Gets me proper stoned! I'll show you how to roll up later on."
After ten minutes the train rolled into East Croydon station. They got off and each lit a cigarette as soon as they were on the platform.
"Where to?" asked Simon.
"Shops aint open yet so let's go and smoke a spliff or two." Andy led the way towards a park and they sat on a bench. Andy perched on the edge of the bench with his legs apart. He pulled out one of the joints and set fire to the end; it was longer than the ones rolled by Dale and Simon could immediately smell that it was much stronger. As Andy pulled on the joint, multiple lumps of hash fell from the end and the smoke was much darker than from Dale's. Andy passed the joint to Simon who took a hard drag; the smoke was acrid and tickled his already tender throat. He coughed as he inhaled and a large, burning lump of hash fell onto the bottom of his jacket; as usual, it smouldered for a second before gouging a thin hole in the nylon.
"Shit mate, you're really punishing that tracksuit!" laughed Andy.
Simon flicked the ash from his jacket and grinned. He actually quite enjoyed wrecking the tracksuit as much as wearing it; the fact that it was so filthy and had burn holes after one day made him wonder what it would be like in a few months. They smoked the spliff between them in silence, with Simon glancing sideways at Andy occasionally.
"Like what you see?" asked Andy. Simon hadn't realised he was being so obvious with his glances.
"Erm. What do you mean?"
"You keep looking at me with some sort of longing; I take it you want more action like yesterday?"
"It was cool, yeah."
"Let me give you a blowback."
He placed the spliff in his mouth back-to-front and leaned over to Simon.
"Touch my lips with yours."
Simon did as he was told; it was almost like kissing and his cock rose immediately. Andy blew hard on the spliff and Simon inhaled; it seemed like kept inhaling for ages and he could feel his lungs starting to protest. Then, Andy pulled away, removed the spliff, and put his mouth back onto Simon's, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Simon wasn't sure whether to exhale or not and held his breath as long as possible, finally giving in after a minute. This was a minute in which Andy started to explore Simon's mouth with his tongue, drawing it over the back of his teeth and connecting with Simon's tongue. When Simon finally exhaled Andy sucked the smoke greedily into his lungs and pulled away. He rubbed Simon's very visible cock through his tracksuit bottoms.
"How was that?" he asked.
"Erm, pretty good." Simon didn't quite know what to say. His pulse was racing, and it wasn't just the effects of the blowback. He gave a wet, chesty cough and spat some phlegm on the ground; he really was coughing a lot today – yesterday's heavy smoking was having an effect and today looked to be just as heavy.
"Nice cough. Tell you what: I want you to be smoking a cigarette whenever you can today, starting now. You'll be rewarded if you manage it."
"What sort of reward?"
"You'll have to succeed to find out."
Simon thought for a moment. He loved smoking anyway, so smoking endlessly wouldn't exactly be a hardship and he was intrigued by what Andy meant by `reward'. He took a cigarette from his pack of Marlboro reds and lit up.
"Smoke each one like you really need it; I saw you taking big drags yesterday and inhaling deeply. Do it for every cigarette."
Simon obeyed by taking a long drag on his cigarette and inhaling hard.
"Good. Right, the shops should be open now. I've got a mate who works in the JD Sports in town here. He told me that he has some more stuff for me."
"Eh? Like what?"
"You'll see."
They set off back towards the town centre. Simon flicked his finished butt to the floor and lit up another cigarette, making sure to let Andy see that he was smoking hard.
"Good." Said Andy. "You're trying hard."
Andy sent a text message and received a response within a couple of minutes.
"He's going to meet us by the park on the other side of town in about ten minutes."
They set off at a fair pace, walking through the shopping centre which was the only point when Simon wasn't smoking. They had to pause outside whilst they both finished their cigarettes before entering. As soon as they entered the subway on the other side Simon lit another cigarette. His throat was starting to get a little irritated, but other than that he was coping fine. He smoked another two cigarettes by the time they reached the park where Andy's friend was waiting with a medium-sized holdall.
"Hey mate, how you doin'?" hailed Andy.
"Alright mate, doing good thanks. Got some good gear for you today."
"Cool. Let's take a look."
Andy rummaged in the bag and pulled out a hooded tracksuit top: it was a Nike top, mostly black with a camouflage pattern superimposed in grey, made of a nylon-style material. He pulled out the bottoms next: they were also back with grey stitching detail and a large Max Ltd logo at the bottom of the left leg. "Extra Large. Very nice"
Next he pulled out an Adidas tracksuit which Simon immediately recognised as being identical to the one Dale had bought the other day; the navy nylon material looked shiny in the sun and the white part of the jacket was pristine and almost glowing.
"I recognise this!" said Andy. "It's the one Andy bought the other day."
Next out of the bag was an all-white Lacoste tracksuit with the brand name in large letters on the back. It was also a nylon-like material and looked gorgeous to Simon. The tip of the collar was lined with a reflective material which glowed in the sunlight.
"Mmm." Said Andy. "My favourite colour. Lacoste as well; worth a mint."
The next item was a Liverpool football shirt; bright red with the white Adidas stripes on the arms, a large Carlsberg logo on the front and `Gerrard' printed on the back over a large number 8.
"Liverpool eh? Shitty team. Still, I'm sure someone will find a use for it."
This was followed by a pink polo shirt with a white band across the centre of the chest and the word `Lacoste' emblazoned across it in large letters.
The bag seemed to be never-ending and Simon was surprised at just how much gear it contained. Andy reached in and pulled out a pair of black Adidas bottoms. They were of a super-shiny black nylon material, with a grey panel down each leg along which ran three white stripes. They were so shiny that Simon was sure that he could almost see his face reflected in them.
"These are very nice." Said Andy. "I'll keep these for myself"
Simon resolved to visit a JD Sports very soon and find out how much they cost; he had to have a pair. He took another cigarette from his packet and lit it from the stub of the one he had just finished; he'd already smoked seven cigarettes since their conversation on the bench and Andy was watching the whole time.
"Fuck, your mate smokes a lot of cigarettes!" said the JD lad.
"Yeah, he's quite a fucking chain-smoker."
Simon studied the JD lad for a moment: he was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt with a McKenzie jacket over the top. The jacket was light grey, green and white and had a hood in the Nike windrunner style. His hair was of medium length, but moulded into spikes which spread in a random fashion all over his head; it was mainly black with straw-coloured highlights. Simon had long regarded his own hair as boring and decided that it was time to change his style; should he go for spiky hair? This guy's certainly looked hot, but it was such a radical change from his usual style he wasn't sure if he was daring enough. It was the sort of hairstyle which straight people wore, but it looked quite gay.
"I'm Simon." He said.
"Mike. Got a spare fag?"
Simon handed him a Marlboro and lit it for him.
"Thanks. Do you like the gear?"
"Yeah, it's shit hot. Wouldn't mind some of that myself!"
"Looks like you need some new trackies!" replied Mike, looking Simon up and down in his filthy tracksuit.
Simon grinned sheepishly and took a hard drag on his cigarette. He found Mike very sexy; jeans didn't usually excite him, but Mike's had a large Henley's logo across the arse and he longed to feel up his arse.
"So what's the score with the bag of gear?"
"Ah. That's between me and Andy at the moment."
"Fair enough." He continued to smoke his cigarette, casting glances at Mike now and again whilst watching what other goodies Andy might pull from the bag.
He wasn't disappointed: a full Nike Barcelona tracksuit appeared: luminous orange for the jacket with a Barcelona badge to the left chest, and navy tracksuit bottoms, also of a nylon material. The final item was a full Paris St Germain tracksuit; navy blue all over, but it was a wet-look tracksuit. It was even shinier than the tracksuit bottoms which Andy had already claimed. It was lined with red nylon and was hooded. There was a large Opel logo on the back and on the left leg.
"This is quite an old one" said Andy.
"Yeah, was sitting in one of the old stock boxes and I found it."
"Very nice though!"
Simon adored the PSG tracksuit. His love of nylon and the fact that it was super shiny made it the best tracksuit he'd ever seen; incredibly eye-catching.
"Can I take a look?" he asked.
Andy handed the tracksuit over to Simon. One of the things he loved about new sportswear was the smell it gave off; it was indescribable, but this tracksuit really had the new smell and felt every bit as good as it looked. The bottoms were also lined in red nylon as was the inside of the hood which, on closer inspection, was held on by five poppers. It was the best tracksuit he'd ever seen and his cock responded to it by twitching and standing erect in his own black nylon tracksuit bottoms. He readjusted, something which was not missed by Andy who winked at him.
"So, how much do I owe you?"
"Call it a hundred quid for the lot"
Andy reached into the pocket of his blue tracksuit bottoms and pulled out a wallet. He counted out five twenties and handed them over. Simon saw quite a few other notes in the wallet; he wondered where he got the money from.
Mike said his goodbyes and headed back to work. Simon lit another cigarette and threw his finished butt on the floor.
"How many is that you've smoked now?"
Simon counted how many were left in his packet and did a quick calculation. "I make that thirteen today so far."
"Good. Not bad for ten AM! Let's go over to the bushes and have another spliff"
They headed for a clump of bushes in a corner of the park.
"Want to light it mate?"
"Sure."
Andy handed Simon a joint; he put it to his lips, and flicked the lighter, sucking deeply in order to gain ignition. The joint flared into life and he took a long drag; this one seemed even stronger than the last and a shower of burning hash fell off, depositing two or three on his tracksuit bottoms. By now he was getting used to this, but one of the lumps fell through into the lining and burned his leg; he stood up sharply and started shaking his leg, the nylon of his bottoms rubbing violently and creating lots of noise. Andy was laughing uncontrollably; "Funniest thing I've seen in ages!" he said, trying to compose himself.
"Fucking hurt!" exclaimed Simon.
He took another drag on the joint, longer than before and taking care to not drop any more hash on himself. The smoke was thick due to the amount of hash Andy had packed into the joint and it was harsh; Simon could feel the strength as it passed down his throat and hit his lungs. His lungs were starting to feel the effect of the day's smoking and were starting to hurt a bit, but the hash dulled the pain somewhat. He held the smoke until his lungs started to protest for some air, and he exhaled before taking another long drag and repeating the process. After a couple more heavy drags he handed the joint to Andy.
"Fuck, that thing is packed!" said Simon.
"Yeah, I smoke so much I need more to get a buzz these days. Aren't you forgetting something?" Andy was looking at Simon's empty hand.
Simon got the message and pulled out his cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and lit up. As he inhaled, his throat became congested, and he coughed violently, finding it difficult to catch his breath for a moment. Eventually he hacked up a piece of phlegm, and carried on smoking his cigarette.
Andy handed the joint back to Simon; he transferred his cigarette to his left hand and used his right hand to smoke the joint. He was starting to feel the effects of the joint by now; his head started to feel rather light and seemed to be wobbling outside of his control. He handed the joint back to Andy who smoked it down to the roach and flicked it into the bushes.
"Did you enjoy the speed yesterday?" Asked Andy.
Simon didn't really remember much about it: the effects of the alcohol had tended to over-ride the memories of the speed. He lied anyway. "Yeah mate, it was top."
"Let's do some more then." He took out a wrap from his wallet and poured out a fairly large quantity of white powder, carefully poured it onto a magazine and proceeded to chop it with his back card into four very thick white lines. Rolling a ten pound note he handed it all over to Simon.
"Take one line in each nostril"
Simon did as he was told using his right nostril first. There was far more powder than Dale had used yesterday and it seemed to take a lot of effort to snort the entire line.
"Do this" said Andy, pinching one nostril closed and snorting sharply through his other; "It will force the powder deeper into your nose.
Again, Simon did as he was told, and then snorted the other line up his left nostril, repeating the technique demonstrated by Andy. His nostrils were tingling from the force of the powder and the light-headedness he was feeling before was now accentuated a hundred-fold. Andy finished his lines and folded the magazine back into his bag.
"Let's go." Said Andy.
"Where to?"
"Just follow me. And why aren't you smoking a cigarette?"
Simon apologised and lit a cigarette. As had happened yesterday, his senses seemed to be heightened and he was able to smoke a cigarette in three very long and hard drags within two minutes; this meant that he was smoking even more cigarettes as he continued to light a new one from the stub of the previous. They walked back across the park, turning onto a residential street; Simon felt like he was flying as he could not really feel his feet touch the ground and seemed to float towards their destination. He was aware of his tracksuit of course; the sound of the nylon seemed to have been heightened by the speed. Walking past a couple of elderly people he was aware that they were giving him strange looks: they still had a slight look of fear due to this scally gear, but there was also a look which he could not really identify. What he didn't realise was that his face was somewhat contorted and his nostrils were running with snot; the speed had caused his nose to run and yet his sense of feeling was somewhat numbed so he didn't notice. Furthermore, he was grimacing as he walked, but such was the high from the speed he was completely unaware of what was going on outside of his narrow tunnel of vision.
Soon they reached a back street which looked rather run-down: 1900s houses which would once have been fairly presentable, but now seemed to be multiple-occupancy houses, each one being made up of two or three flats.
"Where are we?" asked Simon.
"A mate of mine lives in this street" Replied Andy. "He used to live closer to the city, but got a cheap place out here a few years ago. It's somewhere I visit quite often as he's pretty cool."
They walked up some steps towards the entrance door and Andy pressed a buzzer.
"Who is it?" came the gruff reply.
"Andy"
The buzzer on the door sounded and he pushed open the front door. The entrance hall was fairly untidy: old yellow pages were piled up in the corner and an enormous pile of junk mail and takeaway flyers littered the carpet. The carpet itself was threadbare and looked like it had not been changed since the early seventies; come to that, it did not look like it had been cleaned since the early seventies judging by the cigarette butts crushed into the floor so that they actually looked like part
of the pattern. Simon took heart from this and lit another cigarette; he was down to the last two in his current packet, which meant that he had smoked almost twenty cigarettes since the morning.
They mounted the stairs, turned down the landing, and then ascended another flight of stairs, through a fire door and finally up a narrower flight of stairs where Andy knocked on a door.
"It's open."
Andy pushed open the door and walked down a narrow corridor; it was narrow because of the piles of rubbish lining either side. It wasn't filthy rubbish, mainly books, papers and old clothes, but it did give off a musty smell, at least what could be smelled above the smoke emanating from the room at the end of the corridor. The apartment appeared to be fairly large: it took up the entire top floor, although the slope of the roof cut some of the space. As well as the room to which they were obviously heading, Simon saw four doors on the way past, one of which was the bathroom, every bit as untidy as the rest of the place. It was clear that the owner wasn't too bothered about appearances. They reached the end of the corridor and Andy pushed open the door which emitted a loud creak as the hinges protested at the work involved. The room was pretty dingy: a faded brown settee dominated one wall, with a couple of rickety chairs on another. The opposite side was dominated by a huge flat screen TV on which the occupant was playing a football game on his Playstation 3. The occupant himself was slouched on a beanbag in the middle of the room, a joint in hand, concentrating hard on the screen. It was fairly difficult to make out too much detail as the curtains were drawn, and the only light source was from the television; smoke filled the room and billowed like a misty autumn day.
Andy lit a joint and sat on the settee. "How's it going?" he asked the occupant.
"Not bad mate. Usual, you know. How about you?"
"Yeah, same as. Got some good gear from Mike today."
"Yeah? Anything I'd like?"
"Take a look when you want."
"Will do. I'll just finish this game."
Andy passed the joint to Simon who took it eagerly, stubbing his cigarette in an already overflowing ashtray before taking a drag. He examined the owner of the apartment as he smoked: he looked in his early twenties and was clearly a scally; black Nike shox tracksuit bottoms and a Henleys hoody gave that away as did the Yankees cap he wore atop his head. He was also clearly living the full scally lifestyle, bumming around at home all day, smoking pot and generally doing nothing. After a couple of minutes he finished his game of football and spotted Simon for the first time.
"Who's this?" he asked Andy.
"Simon. A mate of mine. He's sound."
"I'll take your word for it. I'm Bill." He said to Simon. He turned back to Andy. "Zaf was round last night, so I've got lots more stuff. You after anything?"
"I need a few ounces of hash, about twenty wraps of speed, ten pills and have you got anything else?"
"What you after? Something a bit harder? Got some jellies and some special K."
"I'll take some of each if that's alright."
"Sure. I'll sort you out in a bit. Sit down and have a smoke."
Simon lit coughed and lit another cigarette. The speed had largely worn off by now, but he was intrigued as to what Jellies' and Special K' referred to; presumably drugs of some sort, but he'd never heard of them. If he was offered, what he take any? He had more bravado after hanging around with Andy and Dale for a couple of days, so he may take a chance, so long as it wasn't heroin or anything too hard that had to be injected he could see no problem. The speed had been enjoyable, and he hadn't experienced any real ill-effects from taking it.
"Want me to show you how to roll a spliff?" Andy asked Simon.
"Sure."
"Ok. I'll show you the easy way. Take a Rizla from the packet and fold it in half. Add some tobacco from your cigarette like this. Next, heat the lump of hash for a few seconds and it should crumble nicely into the tobacco. Now comes the hard part: roll it in your fingers a few times, and then you should be able to tuck the front part in and roll it; lick the gum and you're done. Finally, tear a piece of card from the packet, wrap it around a match and stuff it in the end like this. You can use the match to open the card a bit so it fits nicely. Here you go."
He handed the spliff to Simon who lit it immediately. After this he tried rolling himself. Eventually, after about five attempts, he produced a very loose tube which he succeeded in lighting. Lying back in the chair Simon realised that it would take some practice to become adept at rolling joints; he resolved to keep trying until he achieved proficiency. Smoking on his first effort was testing; at one point about four of five lumps of burning hash leapt off the end and burned yet more holes in his jacket – it was becoming fairly pitted already.
He watched Andy as took a bag of some whitish powder from Bill. Andy set out the joint as usual, adding the hash, and then sprinkled some of the powder into the joint.
"This is K." He said to Simon. "Or ketamine to give it the proper name. It gives a pretty good high, different from anything else you've had."
"Is it addictive?"
"Not really. The effects are real good, so you may want to take it again, but it's not physically addictive. I take some now and then with no bad effects."
Simon was slightly worried, but didn't want to appear soft in front of the two lads. Andy lit the joint and the smell from the smoke was rather bitter and acrid; after a few drags he handed it to Simon. Simon took a smallish drag, unsure as to how it would taste and a little apprehensive as to the consequences.
"You have to drag pretty deep to get it to burn mate." Said Bill.
Simon did as he was told, taking a large drag. At least, it would have been a large drag a couple of days ago but, without realising it, he had adjusted his smoking style so that every drag was large. This didn't seem to have much effect above the hash, so he took a much longer and deeper drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for much longer. His bravado was increased now, so he took two more enormous drags, holding both deep in his lungs and passed the joint back to Andy.
They finished the joint within a few minutes, Simon lighting another cigarette in the meantime and attempting to roll another joint. By now he was aware of a dull feeling in his head which seemed to be growing; it wasn't like the speed which heightened his senses, more like the opposite. Lighting his next joint, a little tighter and better rolled than his last effort, he was aware that his depth perception seemed to be slightly off: the joint was in his mouth, but it took a couple of efforts to get the lighter close to the end. He sat upright and once again, some burning hash fell onto his tracksuit bottoms, a couple of lumps burning through to his legs; he could feel it, but this time there wasn't the same pain, more of a dull sensation. Andy handed him a can of Stella which he drunk greedily before deciding to go to the toilet.
"Where's the bog?" he asked. At least, that's what he thought he'd asked; his hearing seemed to be distorted slightly so that his voice was muffled.
"Back along the corridor on the left. Can't miss it" replied Bill.
Standing took some effort as he overbalanced and had to grab the back of a chair. He made his way out of the room and down the corridor, bumping against the bags of rubbish a couple of times. His cock was rock hard, but he hadn't really noticed for the past ten minutes. Standing over the toilet bowl, he was surprised to see that his cock appeared to be moving of its own accord: not moving from side to side, but rather his vision appeared to making it seem closer and then further away in fairly quick succession. His aim was also bad; he thought that his cock was pointed at the toilet, but his hard-on, coupled with his lack of depth perception meant that more piss went on his tracksuit bottoms and the floor than in the bowl. He flushed the toilet and headed back to the lounge which seemed even more difficult than the walk to the toilet. Entering the door he lurched towards the chair and fell into the seat. Bill and Andy looked at him and burst out laughing. Looking down towards his waist Simon realised that he'd forgotten to pull his tracksuit bottoms back up and they still hung around his ankles.
"Told you he was a fucking poof!" laughed Andy.
"Looks like one to me! "
"Fuck off!" retorted Simon, his bravado returning somewhat as he got used to the initial rush of the drugs.
"Looks like your cock says otherwise!" joked Andy.
Simon's bulge was showing through his briefs as he pulled up his tracksuit bottoms and sat back down on the sofa. Andy finished rolling his joint and moved to sit next to Simon. He lit the joint and then started to rub Simon's left thigh; his cock hardened even more as Andy rubbed against the nylon material, working towards the stiff rod.
"Want a blowback?"
"Sure" answered Simon.
Andy leaned towards Simon and put the joint into his mouth back-to-front. He pushed his lips over Simon's mouth and blew hard; Simon greedily sucked the smoke deep into his lungs, breathing in for harder and longer than he had done previously. When he could take no more Andy removed the joint and pressed his lips hard onto Simon's mouth, inhaling the smoke as Simon exhaled. They remained with their mouths locked until no smoke remained. Then Andy started to explore Simon's lips with his tongue, running the tip along the outside of his bottom lip and then pressing against his mouth. He poked his tongue through Simon's pursed lips and explored the inside of his mouth; finally his tongue met Simon's and they started to gently rub each others taste buds. Then, Andy grabbed Simon around the chest and forced his tongue deep into his mouth, kissing deeply and forcefully. Simon could feel his cock leaking precum into his briefs as his heart pumped faster. Andy pulled away for a second and yanked his tracksuit bottoms down far enough so he could pull out his cock. He gave it a quick shuffle with his hand and pushed it into Simon's mouth.
"Suck on it gay boy"
Simon did as he was told, which he would have done even if Andy hadn't ordered him to. He caressed the cock with his lips, running his tongue along the shaft, working into the helmet sending Andy into spasms of ecstasy. He could taste precum from Andy's cock as he worked faster and faster. Andy withdrew his cock and ordered Simon to lie face down on the soda. Again, he did as he was told. Andy yanked his tracksuit bottoms and briefs down to below his arse cheeks and bent over. He started licking around Simon's hole and then worked his tongue into the arse crack. Simon moaned with pleasure as he felt Andy's tongue entering his anus and dabbing against the sensitive skin. Andy grabbed a tube from the table and poured some liquid onto his hand, running it onto his fingers. He then inserted his index finger into Simon's hole and started feeling around. At first Simon found it a bit uncomfortable, but his sphincter soon relaxed and he started enjoying the sensation. Andy forced another finger into the hole, stretching the muscle a little more before inserting a third finger, reaching far into Simon's arse and tickling the prostate; he gave a little yelp of pleasure and almost came instantly.
"Sounds like you're ready for something more." Said Andy.
"Hmmm. I've never had someone do that to me before."
"Always a first time. I hope you enjoy what's coming next."
Andy pulled out his cock and lubed it up with the liquid. He moved on top of Simon and started moving his cock around the entrance of Simon's hole, teasing his anus with the feeling of his gorged helmet. He slowly pressed his bell end against Simon's entrance and then eased it gently into his arse. Simon gave a small groan of pain.
"Just relax and it'll feel fine." Said Andy. He grabbed a bottle of poppers, removed the lid and held it under Simon's noise. Simon inhaled deeply from the amyl and could instantly feel his head getting warmer; his heart was pounding and he felt a rush of blood to his face. Andy pulled the bottle aside and once again started rubbing his engorged helmet around Simon's hole before gently easing it into his anus. Simon groaned again, but the pain was not so intense this time as the poppers relaxed his muscles. Andy slowly pushed his cock in further until the whole of his helmet was inside Simon's arse; he pushed a little further and his shaft slid smoothly into the willing hole. He poured some more lube onto his shaft and pushed a little further. Simon felt uncomfortable and groaned audibly.
"How is it?" asked Andy
"It's ok. Feels a little tight."
Andy held his cock in place for a couple of minutes allowing Simon's sphincter to get used to his cock before pushing slowly a little further until the entire shaft was contained inside the hole. He paused once again for a couple of minutes before slowly sliding out again, but only as far as his helmet before pushing in again. Simon groaned with satisfaction as he felt the cock rubbing against the inside of his back passage. Andy slowly withdrew again before pushing back, a little more quickly this time. He repeated the exercise, moving more quickly before slowly starting thrusting movements. He pulled up the hood on his top and leant over the back of Simon's head.
"Want me to fuck you hard arse-bandit?"
"Yes please" stammered Simon.
Andy once again pulled out until only his helmet remained and then pushed back faster this time, his balls banging against Simon's arse-cheeks. He started pumping Simon's hole, building up some speed and pushing harder so that his helmet rubbed against his prostate. Simon shivered in a paroxysm of pleasure. Andy grabbed Simon's chest and started riding his hole grunted with the effort of pushing his cock into the tight hole. Simon could feel his own cock dribbling precum as Andy banged harder and harder, before pulling out.
"Turn over onto your back." Ordered Andy.
Simon did as he was told.
Andy grabbed Simon's ankles and put them on his shoulders before inserting his cock back into the well-lubed hole, twitching in expectation. Once again he thrust his cock into the willing anus, this time without pausing. Simon yelped, but was actually enjoying the situation as he looked up at the fit scally, hood up, forcing his cock into his rear-end. Andy put his hand inside Simon's tracksuit and grabbed his nipples which only served to further heighten the sensation as he pushed his cock harder and harder into Simon's hole. With a slight adjustment he started moving really fast, his cock almost leaving the confines of the anus with each push, the helmet pressing hard against the prostate with each movement. Harder and harder, faster and faster until eventually Andy arched his back and grunted with satisfaction as his helmet twitched before firing spurt after spurt deep into Simon's anus. Simon screamed in ecstasy as he felt the warm jism flow into his backside and wash into his passage. Andy kept pumping until his sperm was spent before withdrawing and wiping his cock on the front of Simon's tracksuit jacket.
"That looked like fun." Said Bill. "Mind if I have a go?"
"Sure" replied Andy, moving from the sofa.
Simon could see a large bulge in Bill's tracksuit bottoms as he approached, but he was unprepared for what he saw when he pulled down his tracksuit bottoms: Bill's cock was easily eight inches long and had a shaft which looked like double the size of Andy's. He grabbed a bit of lube from the tube and rubbed it along his shaft before mounting Simon and plunging his cock into the spunk covered hole.
"Ouch" yelped Simon.
"Don't worry, this will only hurt a bit." Joked Bill.
He pushed hard into Simon's arse and without any ceremony started thrusting quickly. Andy's cock had been fairly large for Simon's inexperienced hole, but Bill's was a different matter; it felt like the muscle in his arse was tearing as Bill thrust hard into his backside. Furthermore, Bill's cock reached far further up the passage with very little effort and rubbed his prostate heavily with each pump so that Simon's cock was bouncing in time to Bill's efforts. Bill pumped quickly, grunting as he did so, and Simon grunted in unison. Bill very quickly started moaning, and Simon responded in kind before Bill started ejaculating massive amounts of sperm into the already saturated hole. Simon's cock responded by spurting its own load with no intervention from his hands, the sperm spurting hard onto his tracksuit top almost to his chin. Eventually Bill stopped pushing and then, like Andy, wiped his cock over Simon's tracksuit top and his bottoms.
"Not bad" said Bill. "He screams a little bit like a girl"
"He likes cock more than most girls I know!" joked Andy.
Simon opened a new pack of cigarettes and lit up, coughing a little after taking the first drag.
"Good lad!" said Andy. "You've done well with the cigarettes." He reached into his bag and pulled out the shiny PSG tracksuit, handing it over to him. "Here you go; that's for following orders and for being a good fuck. You'd probably better change into it; your tracksuit is fucking mingin'!"
Simon stripped off his pock-marked and spunk stained tracksuit and picked up the new tracksuit. The navy nylon material reflected the light from the lamp and shimmered as it moved. Although he had just shot a load of spunk his cock rose immediately as he pulled the bottoms up his legs and over his arse. Next he pushed his arms into the sleeves and zipped the jacket up to the chin.
"Don't forget the hood!" said Andy.
He pulled the hood up and looked at Andy.
"Fuck, you look so hot in that mate! Right, time to get going I think. Thanks for your hospitality Bill. See you next week."
They gathered up their stuff and left the house. As they walked to the station Simon was even more aware of people looking at him; couples were pointing and giggling nervously as he walked past in the shiny tracksuit. He didn't care: he liked the feeling of exhibiting and drawing attention to himself. Checking his watch, he saw that it was 2.30; just enough time to get home and change before anyone else got home.