1. A Year to Remember, Chapter Three


    Date: 12/29/2014, Categories: Gay Male, Author: JasperWalton, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    to freak him out. Two can play at being an oddball. “You bastard! I was only joking!” He whines, sitting up. Suddenly a little more serious than thirty seconds ago. “The slippers belonged to a friend.” “Oh right, okay.” What? My face must have betrayed the question in my mind. “My best friend. He's dead.” Shit. I didn't see that coming. “He died. We were friends ever since primary school. I wear these slippers to remind me of him. He was a real and true friend to me.” “Simon. I don't know what to say.” I feel a right idiot now, and shiftily put my phone back in my pocket and look down at him. He suddenly looks small, vulnerable, and a lot less confident than a few minutes ago. “It's okay. You didn't know and you don't have to say anything, but they're his slippers, and I like wearing them.” Of course. My face is deepening in its shade of crimson. I sit on the edge of the bed, next to him, a sudden realisation floods into my head. “So, that's why our parents want us to be friends. It all falls into place now.'” “Yeah, there we go,” Simon says, quietly. He turns to look at me. “So, what's your excuse for the white socks?” Suddenly he is back, back to the mischievous imp I am growing attached to. “I don't have an excuse. They're designer socks, they happen to be white and they look cool with my trainers.” I like white socks, I like socks in general. I wouldn't be seen dead wearing no socks and Superman slippers, I hate my bare feet. “Right, designer! Which one?” I get the ...
    impression he's winding me up again... “They're Puma, if you must know.” “Nice, can I see?” Simon grabs my right leg and yanks it onto his lap with my calf across him. My foot is dangling over the edge of his legs, sending me sprawling backwards across the bed in the process. Oh bloody hell, he's back. Unpredictable Simon is back. “Simon!” I try to protest, but he's not listening. Instead of listening, he's turning my foot this way and that, gently but firmly examining my sock and by default my foot. I can't help but let out a stupid, girlish giggle. “Stop it, you nut case! You're tickling me!” “Tickling you? No, I'm just looking.” he says, continuing in his deliberate, thorough examination. Simon has one of his hands on the sole of my foot and is holding my ankle with the other, on my jeans. My face feels ready to combust, I must be so red. I bite my tongue to stop my self giggling again. “Adam, what's the matter now?” In all seriousness, does he really need to ask? How has this happened? Here I am, sprawled on Simon's huge bed, lying back while he messes about with my white-socked feet. It tickles and not just my foot. I can feel my face now, actually on fire and my dick is starting to respond to the slightest touch of his hand on my foot. “Well...?” I mutter. “Well, what?” He is deadly serious now. His hands are still on my foot as he peers at me. His sparkling eyes, glisten. And then he does it…again. He winks and that gorgeous half-smile appears at the corner of his mouth. ...
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