Caught by Neighbour Chapter 2

But the legs - What could I do?! I pulled up the leg of my jeans, and pondered the healthy layer of brown hair. Going at this with a razor would be an all-day job, not to mention I'd never done it before and was likely to cause all manner of nicks and cuts. How on earth does someone shave the back of their knees, for example?

I looked at the clock - it was already 1.30pm. It was time for a snap decision, and I decided that hair removal cream would have to do. I rushed out to the car and drove to the supermarket, nervously checking the aisles until I found what I was looking for - a squeeze back of foul-smelling cream that promised to remove all hair with the greatest ease. I threw a few of them into my basket just in case, and then grabbed some other random items in case other shoppers might wonder why a man would come all the way to the shops just to stock up on hair cream. At the counter, I studiously avoided making eye contact while a girl processed my items.

As a I drove home, the next problem struck me - Sam was coming home in just a few days. There was no way hair could grow back in days, surely? I tossed around some ideas: could I avoid being naked until it grew back? Ridiculous. Make up some excuse for why I had to do it? Hardly. The least-worst idea I had was to make up a story about starting up my bike riding again; though when I'd enjoyed it a few years before, I'd never seen the need to go 'smooth'.

Well, it would have to do. I made a mental note to dig out my bike gear and leave it lying somewhere prominent.

When I arrived back home, I went to the bathroom and stripped off, carefully reading the label, which had all manner of warnings - including that I should test the cream on a patch of skin first, in case of any allergic reactions. But it was well after 2pm now, and to hell with that. Also, though I didn't like to think too much about it, I was starting to feel a tremor of excitement again, and I looked guiltily down at my cock, which was standing thoroughly to attention. As I squeezed out the cream into one hand, I admired myself in the mirror - not the most athletic guy, but slim, and lightly muscular. As I bent down to start slathering the cream on my ankles, another guilty thrill washed over me, and I stuck my ass out a little, imagining that I was being watched.