Jake stood perfectly still.
The changing room had fallen silent.
Dylan had gone.
The only sound was the faint hum of the air-conditioning.
His eyes dropped to the pile of clothes.
There they were.
The black Hugo Boss trunks.
The navy dress socks.
The crisp white shirt.
The expensive suit.
His loafers.
For two years he'd fantasised about getting this close.
Now there was no one else there.
His heart was hammering.
I can't believe this...
He crouched down and slowly gathered Dylan's belongings, trying to ignore the excitement building inside him.
His fingers brushed against the soft cotton of the socks.
Even through the material, he could imagine the warmth that had been there only minutes before.
Jake swallowed.
Get a grip.
He folded the shirt neatly before placing it inside the sports bag.
Next came the trousers.
Then the jacket.
He hesitated.
The socks.
The trunks.
He looked around the empty changing room.
No one.
He could hear distant voices out in reception, but nobody was coming.
His pulse quickened.
He picked up one of the socks.
Almost without thinking, he brought it to his face.
One slow inhale.
His knees almost gave way.
Warm.
Masculine.
Fresh sweat.
Jake closed his eyes.
Jesus Christ...
He quickly lowered the sock, suddenly aware of what he was doing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He laughed quietly to himself.
Everything.
He slipped the sock back into the bag before finishing packing Dylan's things.
As he reached for the jacket, an idea suddenly entered his head.
One that refused to leave.
I could say I accidentally left the bag in my car.
He wouldn't need it until Monday.
His breathing became shallower.
No...
Don't even think about it.
He stood there for several seconds, arguing with himself.
Then he looked down again.
At the socks.
At the trunks.
His stomach fluttered.
Two years...
Just one weekend...
Nobody would know.
On Monday morning he'd return everything before Dylan arrived.
There would be no harm done.
Jake knew it was wrong.
He also knew he was going to do it.
Very calmly, he zipped the bag closed.
He picked up Dylan's suit over one arm.
The sports bag in the other.
Jake slipped quietly into Dylan's office, hung the suit neatly in the wardrobe and shut down his own computer.
The drive home only took ten minutes.
The sports bag sat on the passenger seat beside him.
Jake caught himself glancing at it every few seconds.
His mouth had gone dry.
For the first time in two years...
Dylan's underwear were coming home with him.
Chapter Five – The Bag
Jake carried the sports bag into his apartment as though it contained something priceless.
The front door clicked shut behind him.
For a few moments he simply stood there in silence.
His heart was racing.
He looked down at the bag.
It's actually here.
He laughed nervously.
"I can't believe I've done this."
The guilt was there.
So was the excitement.
The excitement was winning.
He carried the bag into the bedroom and placed it gently on top of the neatly made bed.
His own shoes suddenly felt uncomfortable.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, untied his laces and kicked off his brogues before taking a slow, steadying breath.
Right...
His hands rested on the zip.
He hesitated.
For two years he'd imagined what Dylan's clothes might smell like after a long day.
Now he was about to find out.
Slowly, he unzipped the bag.
The familiar scent of Dylan
Then something else.
Something warmer.
Something unmistakably Dylan.
Jake closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.
One by one, he carefully lifted everything out.
The folded gym kit.
His white shirt.
The black Hugo Boss trunks.
The navy dress socks.
Finally...
The loafers.
Jake stared at them.
Jesus...
He reached out almost reverently and picked one up.
It was still warm.
His pulse quickened.
Without thinking, he raised it to his face and breathed in deeply.
The scent hit him immediately.
Leather.
Warmth.
A long day's wear.
The trace of masculine sweat.
Jake let out a shaky breath and licked inside the shoe.
"Oh..."
His eyes closed again.
Every fantasy he'd had over the last two years suddenly felt real.
He wasn't imagining Dylan anymore.
He was holding something Dylan had worn only an hour earlier.
Jake smiled to himself.
Carefully, he placed the loafer back on the bed.
Next came one of the dress socks.
The material was still slightly damp.
He turned it over in his hands before bringing the toe gently to his nose.
This time the scent was stronger.
Jake picked up one of the socks, cock now throbbing.
For a moment he stared at it, hardly believing it was really there.
Then, almost without thinking, he slipped the sock over his hand, cupping the fabric gently across his nose.
He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly.
The scent was making his cock throb by itself.
He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking at the neatly folded clothes. The white shirt. The polished loafers. The Hugo Boss trunks.
Jake undressed, hung up his suit, and put everything except his already wet trunks in the wash bin.
He lay on the bed, sock again on his hand so he could lick and smell where the toes sit; from experience, Jake knew that was where the best smell of sweat normally was.
He slowly edged his cock, ending up putting the sock in his mouth and Dylan’s pants over his nose. He could fairly smell sweat, and it was a jaw-dropping experience. Jake exploded ribbons of cum everywhere.
This continued throughout the weekend.
Jake stood perfectly still.
The changing room had fallen silent.
Dylan had gone.
The only sound was the faint hum of the air-conditioning.
His eyes dropped to the pile of clothes.
There they were.
The black Hugo Boss trunks.
The navy dress socks.
The crisp white shirt.
The expensive suit.
His loafers.
For two years he'd fantasised about getting this close.
Now there was no one else there.
His heart was hammering.
I can't believe this...
He crouched down and slowly gathered Dylan's belongings, trying to ignore the excitement building inside him.
His fingers brushed against the soft cotton of the socks.
Even through the material, he could imagine the warmth that had been there only minutes before.
Jake swallowed.
Get a grip.
He folded the shirt neatly before placing it inside the sports bag.
Next came the trousers.
Then the jacket.
He hesitated.
The socks.
The trunks.
He looked around the empty changing room.
No one.
He could hear distant voices out in reception, but nobody was coming.
His pulse quickened.
He picked up one of the socks.
Almost without thinking, he brought it to his face.
One slow inhale.
His knees almost gave way.
Warm.
Masculine.
Fresh sweat.
Jake closed his eyes.
Jesus Christ...
He quickly lowered the sock, suddenly aware of what he was doing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He laughed quietly to himself.
Everything.
He slipped the sock back into the bag before finishing packing Dylan's things.
As he reached for the jacket, an idea suddenly entered his head.
One that refused to leave.
I could say I accidentally left the bag in my car.
He wouldn't need it until Monday.
His breathing became shallower.
No...
Don't even think about it.
He stood there for several seconds, arguing with himself.
Then he looked down again.
At the socks.
At the trunks.
His stomach fluttered.
Two years...
Just one weekend...
Nobody would know.
On Monday morning he'd return everything before Dylan arrived.
There would be no harm done.
Jake knew it was wrong.
He also knew he was going to do it.
Very calmly, he zipped the bag closed.
He picked up Dylan's suit over one arm.
The sports bag in the other.
Jake slipped quietly into Dylan's office, hung the suit neatly in the wardrobe and shut down his own computer.
The drive home only took ten minutes.
The sports bag sat on the passenger seat beside him.
Jake caught himself glancing at it every few seconds.
His mouth had gone dry.
For the first time in two years...
Dylan's underwear were coming home with him.
Chapter Five – The Bag
Jake carried the sports bag into his apartment as though it contained something priceless.
The front door clicked shut behind him.
For a few moments he simply stood there in silence.
His heart was racing.
He looked down at the bag.
It's actually here.
He laughed nervously.
"I can't believe I've done this."
The guilt was there.
So was the excitement.
The excitement was winning.
He carried the bag into the bedroom and placed it gently on top of the neatly made bed.
His own shoes suddenly felt uncomfortable.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, untied his laces and kicked off his brogues before taking a slow, steadying breath.
Right...
His hands rested on the zip.
He hesitated.
For two years he'd imagined what Dylan's clothes might smell like after a long day.
Now he was about to find out.
Slowly, he unzipped the bag.
The familiar scent of Dylan
Then something else.
Something warmer.
Something unmistakably Dylan.
Jake closed his eyes for a moment and smiled.
One by one, he carefully lifted everything out.
The folded gym kit.
His white shirt.
The black Hugo Boss trunks.
The navy dress socks.
Finally...
The loafers.
Jake stared at them.
Jesus...
He reached out almost reverently and picked one up.
It was still warm.
His pulse quickened.
Without thinking, he raised it to his face and breathed in deeply.
The scent hit him immediately.
Leather.
Warmth.
A long day's wear.
The trace of masculine sweat.
Jake let out a shaky breath and licked inside the shoe.
"Oh..."
His eyes closed again.
Every fantasy he'd had over the last two years suddenly felt real.
He wasn't imagining Dylan anymore.
He was holding something Dylan had worn only an hour earlier.
Jake smiled to himself.
Carefully, he placed the loafer back on the bed.
Next came one of the dress socks.
The material was still slightly damp.
He turned it over in his hands before bringing the toe gently to his nose.
This time the scent was stronger.
Jake picked up one of the socks, cock now throbbing.
For a moment he stared at it, hardly believing it was really there.
Then, almost without thinking, he slipped the sock over his hand, cupping the fabric gently across his nose.
He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly.
The scent was making his cock throb by itself.
He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking at the neatly folded clothes. The white shirt. The polished loafers. The Hugo Boss trunks.
Jake undressed, hung up his suit, and put everything except his already wet trunks in the wash bin.
He lay on the bed, sock again on his hand so he could lick and smell where the toes sit; from experience, Jake knew that was where the best smell of sweat normally was.
He slowly edged his cock, ending up putting the sock in his mouth and Dylan’s pants over his nose. He could fairly smell sweat, and it was a jaw-dropping experience. Jake exploded ribbons of cum everywhere.
This continued throughout the weekend.
