Once again Simon was woken by his mother knocking at the door.
"Simon! Me and your father are going out."
"OK. Where are you going?"
"Steve and Ann's. They're having a dinner party. Could be quite a late one. Your brother is at Jake's, so you'll be on your own. You slept in your clothes again? I think that tracksuit has become part of you!"
Simon blushed. It would take a while to get used to wearing his tracksuit around and about, especially one so eye-catching. It would be a bit longer before he could wear his other tracksuits as he didn't want to reveal too many too quickly. He thought he could probably get away with his black tracksuit bottoms though. He glanced at his phone: it was 7.30 and there was a message from Nick asking what he was doing that night; he replied telling him that he had a free house and invited him to come over. He hadn't spent any time with Nick for about a week which was unusual as they were close friends. Nick was definitely not a scally; he was solid middle-class, did pretty well at school even though he was lazy for appearances sake, and tended to wear jeans and a t-shirt or a hoody, but definitely not sportswear. He did smoke, but not much, and it was more to do with portraying an image than anything else. This left Simon with a decision to make as to what clothes to wear; should he wear his tracksuit and face Nick's comments, or play it safe and change into his jeans and t-shirt? He decided to hedge his bets and changed into his black tracksuit bottoms and Nike hoody; it was still sportswear, but wasn't as extreme as his shiny PSG or white tracksuit. Whilst thinking about his white tracksuit, he realised that it was probably a good time to put it through the wash without his mother noticing; he could have it washed and drying before she came home. He could also wash his PSG tracksuit at the same time. He stripped off and changed into his black bottoms and hoody before bundling the PSG and white tracksuit into a ball and placing them in the washing machine; he selected the quick wash option and then returned to his bedroom to roll a joint. As far as he knew, Nick didn't smoke pot, so it would be a good idea to roll a few and have a smoke before he arrived. This done, he headed out to the back garden and enjoyed looking at his reflection in the window as he smoked the joint, savouring every drag as the cannabis hit his lungs and the drug passed through his bloodstream to the brain. His phone signalled a message: it was from Nick who had just got off the bus. Simon returned to his bedroom and waited.
The doorbell rang and Simon went to let Nick in. He caught Nick glancing up and down as he took in what Simon was wearing; Simon wasn't sure what he thought, but he was sure that Nick didn't entirely approve. He'd never seen Nick wearing tracksuit bottoms, and the only hoodies he wore were non-sportswear. In addition, he was usually highly critical of the scallies as was Simon when in the presence of his friends, although usually somewhat less scathing, so wearing tracksuit bottoms and a hoody himself felt quite brave.
"Shall we go for a smoke?" asked Simon.
"Sure."
They headed outside and Simon pulled out his Camels, offering one to Nick at the same time.
"What the fuck are they?"
"Camel non-filter. I picked up a carton of 200 pretty cheap. I actually quite like them."
Nick took one and accepted a light from Simon. He pulled on it the same way he would on a Marlboro Light, his usual brand, and was rewarded with a huge shot of unfiltered smoke which immediately irritated his throat.
"Whoa! These things are strong!"
"Yeah, just the way I like them!"
"Take a bit of getting used to. I'll stick to the Marlboro Lights for now I think. You always liked the stronger fags anyway."
They finished their cigarettes and headed back inside. Simon was aware of the noise his tracksuit bottoms were making as he walked; although he tried to minimise the sounds by walking with his legs slightly apart, the noisy nylon could not be completely silenced, so it still swished as he walked although to a lesser degree than normal.
"Fancy a drink?" asked Simon as they reached the living room.
"Sure, why not?"
Simon opened his parents' drinks cupboard and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He was still a little unsteady from his earlier drinking, so maybe some more vodka would make him feel a little better. He poured generous measures for Nick and himself and they headed to his bedroom.
"Cheers!" said Simon as they clinked glasses and then drank deeply. Simon's stomach still felt rather queasy, and was not immediately happy with the new infusion of alcohol; he felt a slight pain in his stomach as it complained about the renewed onslaught, but this was soon numbed by the alcohol. He decided that he would test Nick's reaction and roll a joint; he pulled out his papers and proceeded to crumble the cannabis into the tobacco; Nick was trying to appear cool, but could not help watching.
"I didn't know you smoked pot."
"I do now and again. Makes me feel really relaxed. Have you tried it before?"
"A couple of drags at a party, but that's it!"
Simon made sure to add a lot of cannabis to the joint and they headed back outside, his tracksuit bottoms swishing as they walked. He lit the joint and took three big drags, almost gagging on the strength due to the amount of cannabis he had added. He took two more gentle drags and handed it to Nick who puffed cautiously. Nick was not as used to the drug as Simon and felt his head spinning slightly with the mix of alcohol and cannabis fairly quickly, so he took a couple more short drags and handed it back to Simon, refusing any further offers. Simon was quite happy to finish it alone and enjoyed the increasing stoned sensation as the joint added to the cannabis already circulating in his bloodstream.
"So what have you been up to lately?" asked Nick.
"Not a lot. Been studying a bit and busy with other stuff."
"You taken up going to the gym?"
"No, why?" scoffed Simon.
"Just wondering why you were wearing tracksuit bottoms. Didn't have you down for wearing that sort of gear."
"These are my brothers. All my jeans are in the wash. Actually, they're quite comfy."
"Very chav though."
"They're not that bad. Just a pair of black tracksuit bottoms."
"It's a slippery slope" Laughed Nick.
Simon liked Nick as a friend; they had always got along well since meeting when starting secondary school five years ago. However, Simon had always been aware of his own liking for sportswear and was aware that none of his normal circle of friends felt the same way, or at least they didn't show it. Dale and his friends on the other hand wore it like a uniform; in fact, they wore it in place of their school uniform for much of the time. Still, he had worn his tracksuit bottoms in front of Nick and felt that he could do the same in future if he felt like it. The thought of being able to wear his favourite gear whenever he wanted made him feel horny. Of course, what he really wanted was to be able to wear any of his gear whenever he wanted: the PSG tracksuit, the white tracksuit. However, he didn't see that he could ever bring himself to wear either when he was around Nick. Still, it was a step in the right direction as far as Simon was concerned.
They sat drinking their vodka and chatting about what was happening at school. Simon realised he'd missed quite a bit of homework due to skipping classes towards the end of the week, so Nick was able to give him some information as to essays and deadlines; he noted down the dates and then decided to roll another joint which they went outside to smoke; Nick didn't have any more however, and couldn't help but notice how hard Simon was dragging on the joint to tease out every last bit of cannabis. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried, but figured that it was Simon's decision and he was a wise kid who wouldn't go too far. They finished some more vodka between them, by which time both teens were feeling rather drunk, especially Simon who was really topping up from his earlier session. He saw Nick out to the door and went back to his bedroom. The vodka bottle was almost empty; luckily there was another in the cupboard so he hoped his parents wouldn't notice the empty one. To make sure, he finished it off and stuffed the empty bottle at the bottom of the bin went he went outside for another joint. This one sent him spinning over the edge, and it was a real effort to make it back to his bedroom; he lay flat on the bed and fell asleep.
"Simon, we're home!"
Simon awoke with a start. According to his phone it was one AM. He felt very groggy, the cumulative effects of the day's drinking and smoking taking a real toll on his head which was pounding from a hangover. A cigarette would probably help, but he'd have to wait until his parents went to bed.
"Hi mum." Said Simon, poking his head around the door. "How was the dinner party?"
"We had a great time. Do you want a cup of tea?"
"Yes please." It had been a while since Simon had drunk something non-alcoholic, so it would probably help with his hangover; a paracetamol would probably be a good thing too. He went into the kitchen where his mother was busying herself filling the kettle and getting the cups out.
"Your father's gone to bed already; too much red wine!"
Simon laughed; he knew how he felt.
"Is that a new top?"
"Yes. I got it with the tracksuit. It was 50% off."
"Looks nice."
"Thanks."
"What did you do this evening?"
"Nick came over and we watched a DVD."
"Good. I like Nick, he's a nice lad."
They chatted idly for about twenty minutes, drinking their tea, and then his mother went to bed.
"Don't stay up too late." Said his mother as she went into her bedroom. He could hear his father snoring as he slept off the red wine. He waited for about ten minutes before heading into his own room and lighting a cigarette out of the window. He inhaled deeply, feeling the pleasure as the nicotine hit his bloodstream causing his heart rate to accelerate and his brain to relax. There was no denying that he was having to smoke more cigarettes to keep his nicotine levels topped up; checking the packet that he had bought at lunchtime he saw that only two remained. He'd smoked about thirty cigarettes that day, including those he'd used in joints. He certainly felt it; when drinking he naturally smoked more anyway, and the extra strain placed on his lungs by the alcohol and cigarettes contributed to the heavy feeling in his chest which eased once he'd smoked a couple after waking. He decided to have one more joint before getting some sleep. Although he'd slept earlier in the day and that evening, his body craved more as sleeping whilst under the influence of alcohol did not seem to ease his tiredness. He leant out of the window and smoked his joint to the roach in double-quick time and then climbed under the covers, feeling his rock-hard cock with his hand as he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke of his own accord at seven thirty. It was fairly light outside but, being a Sunday, everything seemed fairly quiet. The house was also quiet; his parents were sleeping off last night's party and no doubt his elder brother was also still asleep as he hadn't come home by the time Simon went to bed. His cock was pushing hard against his tracksuit bottoms, and he rubbed his hand over the nylon material to increase the feeling of pleasure. His chest felt congested, as was now normal after sleeping, but felt a little easier than it had yesterday morning. He gave a little cough, but all felt well. In his hoody pocket he still had one of the joints he had rolled up the previous evening, so he lent out of the window and smoked it, enjoying both the feeling of the smoke hitting his lungs and the buzz he got from the cannabis. He smoked calmly, letting the smoke linger in his lungs and then exhaling a thin stream of smoke. He could feel mucus rising in his throat as he finished the joint and flicked the remains out of the window and gave a short cough; he felt the mucus rise a bit further, but it was caught halfway down his throat. He coughed more sharply, trying to shift it, but to no avail. He went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water; this soothed his throat, but the obstruction in his throat remained. He took two paracetamol, finished the water and headed back into his bedroom. After leaning out of the window to smoke another cigarette he drifted back to sleep.
"Simon. Are you getting up today?"
He checked the clock on his phone: midday.
"Yes mum."
He was feeling a little less groggy than before, but felt a lot of congestion on his chest and he was desperate for a cigarette. Checking his phone, he saw that he had a message from Dale asking what he was doing for the day. Dale's mother was going to be out for the day, so he invited Simon over to his place. Simon went into the kitchen and his heart dropped when he caught sight of the clothes drying on the airer: his tracksuits were both hanging out to dry. The PSG tracksuit was not a problem, but he hadn't yet shown the white one to his family. He guiltily accepted a cup of tea from his mother and ate a bowl of cereal. His stomach was still a little unsettled from his escapades yesterday and it was about all he could stomach. They chatted a little about general topics and he informed his mother that he would be spending the day over at Nick's.
"OK dear. Remember it's Sunday, so I want you home by seven."
He went to his room and quickly sprayed some deodorant under his clothes; he was really desperate for a cigarette and didn't want to waste time showering. He did have time to roll a joint however, and then pulled his black tracksuit jacket over the top of his hoody. As soon as he left the front door he lit a Camel and paused for a moment as he took the first long drag and inhaled the thick smoke deep into his lungs. He let it linger for a moment before taking another big drag and taking it even deeper, giving the smoke plenty of time to settle in his chest and deliver the nicotine into his bloodstream. He started walking towards the park as he felt his nicotine craving subside and took regular drags to ensure that he fed his addiction. As soon as he reached a bench he sat down and lit the joint. Although cannabis is not physically addictive, Simon felt that the drug had the effect of soothing him even beyond the tobacco. Smoking his first joint of the day had become something he looked forward to more than his first cigarette, and the buzz it gave him brightened up his morning. A few specks of burning hash fell from the tip and burned into his tracksuit bottoms, but he wasn't too bothered as they were already fairly pock-marked with small burns.
He received a text from Andy: "Got something for you on the Lacoste front; two tracksuits. You interested? I'll send pics."
He waited for a couple of minutes and opened the two photos that Andy had sent. His cock immediately tried to burst through his tracksuit bottoms. The first picture was of a Lacoste tracksuit with royal blue bottoms, and a jacket which was mostly royal blue apart from a large white horizontal stripe which ran from the arms just above the elbow and across the front. On the right sleeve `LACOSTE' was printed in large royal blue letters. The second tracksuit was of the same design except in red. He texted back to Andy that he was definitely interested in both and asked how much they would cost.
"60 for the two" came the response. Less than half the cost if he bought them in the shop. He figured that he could probably sell one to Conor for sixty, so he told Andy he would take them both.
"Great. Meet me in Croydon at 4pm. Wear the butt plug and cock ring I gave you yesterday"
When he had placed the PSG tracksuit in the washing machine, Simon had transferred the butt plug and cock ring into the pockets of the black tracksuit; he didn't want his mother finding those items. He'd be able to put them on when he got to Dale's.
He forwarded the picture of the red tracksuit to Conor along with a quote of sixty pounds and walked to the bus stop, his tracksuit swishing as he strutted across the park. Waiting for the bus smoking a cigarette, Conor responded and said that he would take it, which meant that Simon would get his tracksuit for free. He was obviously very happy, looking forward to getting his Lacoste tracksuit, and raised his hood over his head to increase his scally appearance, his cock tenting proudly in his tracksuit bottoms, but constrained somewhat by his boxer shorts. The bus was relatively empty on a Sunday afternoon, and he headed straight for the back of the top deck where he plucked up the courage to light a cigarette and sat puffing happily as the smoke drifted past the empty seats.
He pressed the bell as the bus pulled off from the traffic lights just before the entrance to Dale's estate and descended the stairs onto the street. He lit another cigarette as soon as he alighted and walked along the alleyways towards Dale's block. He was getting used to the estate by now, and even gave a nod to one of the lads he had seen the other night as he passed. The lift still had the familiar smell of stale urine, and Simon was glad when the doors opened and he was able to step out into the fresh air. He knocked on Dale's door and was greeted by a strong smell of cannabis smoke as Dale stood there wearing his white hooded Max Ltd Nike tracksuit. Simon loved him in that tracksuit and wanted to hug him right there, but restrained himself, even if he could not control his cock. Did Dale take a quick glance at his crotch as he held the door for Simon?
They followed the smell of smoke and went into Dale's room. Dale swept a load of sportswear onto the floor and motioned Simon to sit in the chair and make himself comfortable.
"Back in your black tracksuit I see?"
"Yeah. The other two are in the wash."
"I know that feeling. Nearly all of mine seem to be in the wash all of the time. I guess it's because mum is either too tired from work or too drunk to get it all done! I often have to go through the laundry and pick out the least dirty one to wear!"
Simon thought about Dale wearing dirty sports gear and it excited him; the thought of this teenage hunk wearing smelly kit, forcing it into his face was enough to make him shiver with anticipation. Alas, it was unlikely to happen. However, he did like his own gear getting dirty and had already worn filthy gear out and about; many scallies walked around in dirty clothes with the smell poorly disguised by generous coverings of Lynx deodorant, just as he was wearing today. He rolled and lit a joint, smoking it peacefully thinking it would be good to spend a day without drinking any alcohol. He seemed to be recovering from his hangover, but was still very tired and he could do with a break before going back to school the next day. He had no such compunctions about smoking pot however, and rolled a succession of joints, happily smoking them down to the roach and becoming very stoned. Dale was engaged in a similar activity.
"Nothing like a quiet Sunday having a nice smoke." Said Dale.
"Yeah. So what happened yesterday? I was soaking when I woke up!"
"Andy said you looked real peaceful lying there, so we didn't wake you. It wasn't raining when we left. Sorry mate; I know I should have woken you."
"That's ok. I dried out a bit later on. That white tracksuit is interesting when it's wet though!"
"What do you mean?"
"I was walking back to the station and I could swear that the rain made it see-through. I was paranoid that people were looking at me!"
They probably were, thought Dale; the tracksuit was fairly see-through even when it was dry.
"Nah mate. You were just paranoid because of the smokes!" Dale reassured him. "Fucking awesome trackie though."
"I'm getting a Lacoste one. Andy sorted one out for me."
"Cool. Can't wait to see it. He gets some good stuff. I bet you look really good in it."
Simon blushed and turned to rolling another joint; he lit a cigarette whilst doing so and let it dangle from his mouth, exhaling through his nose as he sucked smoke into his mouth.
"I'm meeting him in Croydon at about 4."
"Croydon? Yes, I've been there. It's a dump. Mind you, I can talk living here!"
They both laughed.
"I've got five Lacoste tracksuits." Said Dale. "I fucking love them. They make the best quality and the best colours. I'll show you some."
He started by pulling out the red one that Simon had seen him wearing. It still looked as horny as when he'd first seen it and tried to imagine wearing it himself.
"Want to try it?" asked Dale, as if reading Simon's thoughts.
"Yeah, why not? It looks amazing."
"One of the best in my opinion."
Simon slipped out of his tracksuit bottoms and unzipped his top, tossing it on the floor; he tried to conceal the growing bulge in his boxers as he pushed his leg into the red Lacoste tracksuit bottoms. He pulled them up over his bulge, and tied the drawstring around his waist. Next, he grabbed the jacket and slid his hands into the arms before pulling the zip up to his chin.
"Red really suits ya mate." Said Dale
Simon felt around the tracksuits bottoms and jacket, running his hand over the shimmering red nylon material, his sense of touch heightening the warm sensation in his cock as it responded to the stimulus of his favourite material and the thought of wearing a bright red tracksuit. It wasn't as noisy as his other tracksuits; as he moved there was some noise, but it didn't compare to the PSG or black Nike tracksuit. What it lacked in noise, it made up for in quality and colour however: the all-red bottoms, and red top with large white band running from the left shoulder to halfway down the top and along the right arm was very distinctive; the left arm was red and the right arm white. The contrast was stark, and he knew that it would make people look at him as he walked down the street in the same way he couldn't resist looking at Dale when he was wearing it. He sat down and rolled a joint whilst Dale rummaged around in his wardrobe a bit more.
He finished rolling and lit up, wiping some ash from the tracksuit bottoms as a burning ember of paper fell from the tip. As he did so he noticed a few small burns where burning hash had clearly fallen from joints and smouldered around the crotch area melting the easily burnt material. That was why the labels all said "Keep away from fire". He was careful not to add to the burns, making sure that he leaned forward as he dragged on the joint, savouring the smoke as it tickled his throat and numbed his brain. He was getting nicely stoned; it was unusual to be smoking without drinking at the same time and it seemed an ideal way to while away a Sunday afternoon.
Dale emerged from his cupboard with another Lacoste tracksuit.
"Haven't worn this one for a while." He stated, holding it up for Simon to see.
It was composed of white bottoms, and an orange and white jacket. The design was similar to the red one he was currently wearing, with the orange taking the place of the white on the red one. Dale removed his white tracksuit and pushed his feet into the white tracksuit bottoms, and then zipped up the jacket.
"What do you think?"
"Very cool." Responded Simon. It didn't look as good as the red one in his opinion, but he loved the bottoms which were pure white, although not at all transparent as the Lacoste material was of a high quality and hence was thicker. He passed the joint to Dale and lit another cigarette.
"So you like the red tracky then?" asked Dale.
"Yes. It's fucking wicked."
"You look great in it. Can't have it though! It's one of my favourites."
Simon tried not to look disappointed. He hadn't expected Dale to give it to him, but hearing it confirmed left him feeling slightly deflated. He consoled himself by lighting a cigarette and set about rolling another joint.
"That's cool mate. Can't expect you to give away your gear! Anyway, I'll have my own Lacoste tracky later." Simon's mood brightened as he remembered this, taking a huge drag on his unfiltered Camel and exhaling through his nose. He took another large drag and added "I think the one Andy is getting for me is very nice."
"Never thought I'd hear a non-scally say something like that! Lacoste trackies are about as scally as it gets, especially the bright ones."
"Hey, I can like them without being a scally can't I?" joked Simon. "The orange and white one isn't as good as this one though. I like the white bottoms, but the orange doesn't look as good as the red I think."
"Yeah, I love white bottoms too. I got the red one after this, which is why I don't wear this so much. Although, I sometimes wear the white bottoms with the red top."
Dale searched through the extensive selection of sportswear in his wardrobe once again, this time pulling out another Lacoste tracksuit with white bottoms. This time, the top was white on the bottom half, and black on the top with a royal blue stripe between the white and black which extended down the arms. On the back, at the top of the white section, LACOSTE was embroidered in large letters. He unzipped the orange top, and pulled on the new one before performing a twirl for Simon.
"That's awesome." Said Simon. He loved the royal blue colour, and the white bottoms really made it stand out. He packed three large drags of the joint into his lungs and handed it to Dale before starting to roll another. Dale, mimicking Simon's style, drained the joint quickly, stubbed it out, and then went back into his wardrobe. He pulled out yet another Lacoste tracksuit, this time all royal blue. Simon loved the colour; even in the dim light of Dale's smoky bedroom it was very eye-catching. Wearing it on the street would catch all sorts of looks from other people. He lit the joint he had just finished rolling and checked his watch: 2.30; time to smoke another joint and then head to the station. He watched Dale change into the blue tracksuit as he licked the gum on the rolling paper, inserted the roach, and lit the joint. His cock hardened as Dale pulled on the jacket and pulled up the zip; he looked magnificent!
"It's awesome isn't it?" said Dale
"Yeah, really cool."
"The material is a bit different from the other Lacoste trackies as well; it's a bit rougher. Have a feel."
Simon didn't need telling twice and moved over to Dale and felt his wrist covered in the rough polyester material. He was right, it was different, and in a good way too. He got a real thrill from feeling Dale through the material; his cock hardened even more and he had to adjust his position slightly to try and prevent it pushing against Dale's thigh.
"The material perforated with tiny holes as well" said Dale, "around the shoulders and back. Look." Dale motioned towards his upper chest and Simon ran his hand along his upper torso, easing slowly along feeling something like electricity as his sensitive finger tips felt along Dale's body. He took a drag on his joint and handed it to Dale before resuming his previous seat.
"Got to head off in a minute." Said Simon.
"OK. Fancy a hit on the bong first mate?"
"Yeah, why not?"
Dale prepped the material for the bucket bong, and carefully lit the tobacco and cannabis mix on the foil, before motioning Simon down to take a drag. Simon leant over, his tracksuit jacket running up his bottom as he did so, and placed his mouth over the entrance to the bottle. He inhaled sharply as he pushed down on the bottle, feeling the thick smoke packing his lungs with an intensity he had never felt before. However, the smoke was cooled by the water, so it did not irritate his throat and lungs. He stood back from the bottle and sat down again before releasing a vast cloud of smoke which surprised him as it kept coming even after several exhalations. Then, the cannabis hit him; it was a much more intense high than from smoking joints alone, and his head felt very heavy. He lit a cigarette and inhaled sharply, hardly feeling the unfiltered smoke as it travelled down his throat and into his lungs. He was definitely feeling a bit sleepy now and decided to have another joint before leaving. He completed rolling and lit up before rolling up another three for later on. Having finished smoking half of his joint, he gave the rest to Dale and the announced that it was time to leave.
"OK mate, see you later. Don't forget to get changed!" Said Dale.
Simon had forgotten he was wearing the red tracksuit; he quickly changed into his black tracksuit, pulled up the hood and waved goodbye as he left the flat and made for the bus stop.
Whilst walking, he couldn't help but think back to feeling Dale in his tracksuit; the tracksuit itself was a real turn-on for him and would have made him feel very horny, but the fact that it was Dale he was feeling had almost sent him over the edge. There was no doubt about it, he had strong feelings for Dale and longed to get to know him intimately. He dressed as a scally, as did Andy, but Dale was different: rough-edged, but he was a nice guy underneath. Andy was ok, but he couldn't help but feel that Andy was using him for his own purposes, although he did of course get something in return. He absent-mindedly smoked two cigarettes whilst waiting for the bus and was still lost in thoughts about Dale as he got off at London Bridge. He checked the departures for Croydon, and saw a train leaving in three minutes. He dashed through the station and rand to the platform, fumbling with his oyster card as he came to the barrier. With a final rush, he boarded through the last door just as a beeping sound announced the closure of the doors. He slumped in a seat to catch his breath. His young teenage chest rose and fell as his lungs struggled to provide enough oxygen following his unusual exercise. His breathing was hoarse and sounded a little wheezy due to the high levels of smoking over the recent days, and he was sweating fairly heavily despite the weather being cold. After a while he settled down with a few coughs and relaxed in the seat, feeling an urgent need for a cigarette.