She really seemed to be into it, and me. She asked me questions about my work and my workouts. Small talk, but friendly. As she worked down to my lowe... back, she asked if it would be okay if she worked on my glutes without the sheet, to get better pressure. I agreed so fast it made her giggle. In that moment, I started talking myself into really trying to get the elusive, infamous happy ending. The fantasy was in overdrive now. What guy doesn't fantasize about getting a hand job or a blow job. I look back up at him, and he just looks at me again. I take a massive breath in, about to protest at the intimacy that has occurred. Sixteen year old lads don't hold hands in my book. “Adam, don't…” “What?” I ask, on the defensive. “Don’t say anything. You don't need to,” Simon says, quietly. Still squeezing my hand. His other hand, resting on my bare, right shoulder, I realise is now also squeezing me, pulling me toward him so that my other shoulder nestles in his armpit. I decide not to say. More

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