Monday 27 February 2006

Oh Monday!

Oh, a big weekend. Woosh! Gone! Head spinning! Don't know how Matt got up and went to work. He's a better man than me. He kissed me good bye from the bedroom door.

I just lolled about in bed all day, drifting, waking, drifting, waking. Joint. Drifting, waking. Another joint.

I wanked over the mail boy. Cute, Italian to be sure, with great legs that went all the way up to his arse. 

Then I pissed like a horse. How much water did I drink?

My head feels okay even if my mouth doesn't. It’s dry. Oh so dry. But that may be the pot. I’ve smoked a couple, big grin. Got to stop grinding my teeth and slashing my tongue.

Got to stop walking around just in my jocks. I had to chat to my neighbour in that state. She caught me in the back yard, as I went out to the car, what else could I do but stand there and talk? Trunks and a T-shit, it would have looked like I was wearing shorts.

I laughed to myself, as I headed back inside for my trackie pants. They were the reason why I was out at my car. Don't ask. Suffice to say, I'd better put a load of washing on.

Now I've been smoking too many cigarettes and have wasted the day, just like that.

Matt will give me that look, when he sees how stoned I am. That look that says disappointment. That look that says he is disappointed with me. Oh babe, sad tone.

"Hey honey, welcome you home," I say. Trying to out cute the disappointment in his face. Trying to use his affection for me to overcome my shortcomings, at least in that moment. Big smile.

Then he'll notice that no cooking has been done and he'll tell me I'm cheeky for trying to distract him with my happy nothing-to-be-seen-here face.

“Chores, you left me chores?’ I happily question. I’m not used to having chores to do, that just hasn’t been my life up until this point.

If all else fails, I'll either suck him off, or send him home to his place. Ha ha, yes life can be that simple.


Sunday 26 February 2006

Saturday 25 February 2006

The Boyfriend

Matt is such a sexy guy. Handsome and sexy. I love kissing him and sliding my hand down his pants. That flat stomach of his is a slide down which to slide my warm hands. 

He stretches, and arches his back giving me better access. He groans contentedly as a wrap my hand around him.

“How was your day?” he asks.

“Yeah, good,” I say. “How was yours?”

He spreads his legs a little more. “Oh, better now,” he says.

“We should have a joint,” I say.

“Sure,” Matt says. “I’ll roll, you keep doing that.”


Friday 24 February 2006

Ah, the Truth About Porn

My mate, Tim accused my other mate, and his boyfriend, Nick, of cheating on him because he watched porn. 

My head spun. 

There's a tough call. I mean, I can kind of see his (stupid) point, weirdly, if you have that kind of relationship, you know, buttoned up tighter that a… not really sure how to finish that analogy… a homophobe’s arsehole at a gay orgy. 

You know, if you both agreed to only have eyes for each other, I guess.

I've never thought about it that way before, myself. Cheating, presumably, on your own in a room on your own? Is that even logical? I’m not really sure about that.

Later, I found out that Nick had told Tim earlier that he didn't like Tim watching porn. What? My head spun again.

Oh, I see what this is about now. (is that revenge porn?)

Ah the (unnecessarily) tangled webs we weave.

2006

All the things that could go wrong with a relationship, the trip ups, the fails, the problems, the hurts, the misunderstandings, the let downs, the boring bits, the pain, the lies, even the white lies, I can’t really see the above being one of them.

Is it self sabotage? Or just sabotage?


Thursday 23 February 2006

Back On The Horse

“I decided I'm sick of sleeping tablets, after being upgraded from Temazapan, which just wasn't doing anything anymore, to a whole Valium, whilst I was in hospital,” says Andre Arno

“The accident?” says Jackson Jones.

“Yes,” says Andre. “Because of the accident.”

“Recovery is a bitch,” says Jackson.

“The thing with Valium is, is that it has a half-life of 22 – it takes that long for you to get half of it out of your system,” says Andre.

“So, you feel groggy?” asks Jackson.

Over 24 hours it's actually cumulative, and yesterday I just felt kind of slow, drugged, all day.”

“So, no Valium last night,” says Jackson Jones.

“My god, I was awake until 6am,” says Andre.

“Sleep deprivation is a bitch,” says Jackson. “That so leads to errors in judgement.”

“It was kind of okay in a way, with my mind floating around generally happy thoughts, and also thinking about RMIT work that I STILL have to do. Not long now.”

“How’s that going?” asks Jackson.

“I even got up and reviewed what I had done so far, and made some notes for the report. Considering my goal had been to get back to it by January 31, before the accident, it wasn't a waste of a night.”

“The things you can get done when you can’t sleep,” says Jackson.

“But my god, sooooo sleepy today. I got up at 11, fell unconscious on my couch at 1.30, woke up to some stupid TV show, and I'm still fucked,” says Andre.

“What are you going to do tonight?” asks Jackson. “Sleepwise?”

“Tonight, I'm taking HALF the valium and a herbal sleeper that Mum gave me – she doesn't want to share her Serapax with me,” says Andre.

“And how’s the latest project going?” asks Jackson.

“I was supposed to go up the country again this weekend but I'm not. I should have got organised and gone Sunday – gotta use that car that I bought after all,” says Andre.

“Oh yeah that car has been sitting for long enough,” says Jackson.

“Yes, yes it has,” says Andre.

“Gotta get back on the horse, as they say,” says Jackson.

“I'm also going to the Good Guys and get myself some new AV equipment. I couldn't even watch a DVD last night,” says Andre.

“It’s good to go back to work,” says Jackson.

“So, a DVD recorder/VCR combo ($450 at the moment!) and MAYBE a new TV now that the footy season is coming up,” says Andrea.

“Well, if Scott, or Rolly, or I can help you with your project, just ask, you know that?” says Jackson. “You okay for equipment after the accident?”

“I can't live with a fucked TV, despite my protests about never having time to watch the damn thing,” says Andre.

“So, what are you going to do?” says Jackson.

“I did see a lovely wide screen flat CRT for less than a grand that I think I would really like,” says Andre.

“Is that good enough for what you want to do?” asks Jackson.

“Fuck LCD and Plasma – who wants to pay 3 grand for an idiot box?!” says Jackson.

“Well, if you need me, or the boys help, just ask,” says Jackson.

“Thanks,” says Andre. “What would I do without you guys?”

“What’s the latest one?” says Jackson.

“Hand To Mouth, about homelessness,” says Andre.

“Hitting the heartstrings,” says Jackson. “Good thinking.”

“I prefer to think of it as social interest, myself,” says Andre. “Do you know how much homelessness there is in this rich country?”


Wednesday 22 February 2006

A Child?

Would I like a child, people ask me? Perhaps, I'd like a child, I think. I'm surprised how taken I am with my nephews. I'd be good as a part time dad. I'm smart, told (you gotta say it that way) I'm good looking, I have good teeth. I'm creative and considerate and my mother says I'd make a good father.

You're better with kids than your brother, who'd have thought.

I talk to them like people. I don't dictate what they should do. But then again, I stay their favourite uncle because my visits are infrequent. And I tell them naughty things. And I don't have to look after him full time.

A little person to go on into the future after I'm dead? Is that what life's all about, having kids, watching how your progeny turn out? Would he look like me, the way I look like my dad? Would he look like his mum, would his eyes twinkle like hers? 

I want to hear his opinions, to see how he thinks. Be surprised by his questions. I want to watch him fall in love, be giddy. Get a broken heart. Pick up the pieces brush himself off. I want to see him elated when he has success at what he does.

So, if there's a nice lesbian out there who wants a cute gay boy to father her child... sure, I’d think about it.


Tuesday 21 February 2006

Promise




At The Pool

I headed down to the pool in the morning. It was a sunny day, the sky was blue. I wanted to top up my tan, you know, just a bit, graduate to a light tan, if you know what I mean, rather than white for summer.

I went for a swim as soon as I got there, you know, just to wash off the heaviness of life, and the day, to feel fresh, rejuvenated.

I laid out my towel. And settled down with my new book.


I sensed something, what it was wasn’t apparent to me straight away, but I could sense something.

I’d been stretched out on the lounge for some time reading my book, the sun was glorious, it had been all day.

It was getting late in the morning, and the golden sun was as intoxicating as having warm honey tipped over my skin.

I looked up most nonchalantly, not really looking at anything in particular, just having a break from my book, when our eyes met.

I couldn’t help but smile.

He was standing there in his white trunks with his hairy chest and great, muscular legs. Just my type, I thought. (Of course, he was)

And now he was leaning by the side of the pool, his handsome face pointing my direction, his gorgeous eyes drinking me in.

My stomach buzzed and I had no chance of concentrating on my book after that. I kept glancing up to see if he was still looking in my direction.

He was.

Well built sexy boy, hairy chest and great legs, dark hair and olive skin, just the way I like them.

Michael, Alex, Nick, Maurice. Gorgeous smiles. Hair through my fingers. Soft lips. Skin like velvet.

I looked up. I kept looking up. My eyes were defying me. He was still looking at me. 

I adjust my position and straightened out my book, as though I wasn’t going to look up again.

I looked up again. He was pulling his lean body out of the water. He didn’t pull the white material of his trunks away from his crotch, so it clung to him hiding nothing.

He walked over. Hairy legs, hairy thighs, a trail of hail up his stomach joining to the hair on his chest. He was smiling. He ran his fingers through his black hair.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m, um, Angelo. How are you?”

“I’m… er…” my tongue tied, I spluttered. “Angelo, is it?”

“I like a man who likes to read,” he said.

“I like a man…” I went blank.

“Well,” he said. “That is direct.”

“With a nice…” My eyes dropped down to his thighs.”

“I like a man who is direct.”

I raised my eyes up as fast as I could. “I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m away in my book…”

“I’ve been watching you, reading away.’

“I love coming down here with a book, it’s... it’s…”

“Gives you something else to look at.”

“It gets me through my stack of unread books.” I smiled.

He smiled. “I think I have had enough sun and I’m ready to head home for a shower.”

I felt kind of sad he was going already. “Okay, nice to meet you.”

“I just thought you might like to come too?”

“To have a shower?”

“Oh, um, to get a coffee, perhaps?”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me.”

“A shower?”

“Coffee,” he said. He blushed. “But, I guess we can’t have me being clean, and you not.”

“I guess not.”

“I just live in the next street,” said, er, Angelo.

“That’s handy.”

“It is today.”

I stood up and faced him. I looked him in the eye. “I like a man the same height.”

“You are very forward,” he said.

“It is you who is picking me up.”

“Is this a pick up?”

“I’d say yes,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “Shall we go, Josh?”


And, er, Angelo was just what I needed for the afternoon. I didn’t know, er, Angelo was what I needed, but he was what I needed after all. He was good for… relieving the tension. Like a massage.


Matt had the day off. He followed me to the pool, secretly. He made a great Angelo. Cute. I love you.


Monday 20 February 2006

Cameras and Cohabitation

Nell met me at my place and we both smoked a joint as we walked to the café. We found a table and chairs in the sun at our favourite café on Brunswick Street. It was definitely time for sunglasses, as the sun was bright and we were both still feeling the effects from what we took Saturday night. 

We both had coffees. I was waiting for my ham and cheese croissant. Nell had ordered some sort of Ice Cream Sunday, she said her weight was down again.

I was staring at the people walking by. I had a bit of a body hum going, which I kind of like, even if I’m never really sure if it is a good thing. There is a part of my that always wonders if it is my body working hard to get rid of the toxins.

“I like people who don't think it's wrong to hide tiny cameras in the bathroom to spy on their flatmate’s boyfriends.”

Nell pulled her shocked face, which I have to admit I kind of like. “You can’t say that, people will think you are weird.”

“Oh, let them think I’m weird, who cares,” I replied.

“Worst still, they’ll call the police on you,” said Nell.

“Yeah, you know how people love to do the right thing.” I made parenthesis in the air with my fingers.

“It’s because people are bored, or they see what interesting lives other people are having, and they want to spice their up” said Nell. “Then they can’t help it. I think it is in our DNA.”

“Spice theirs up?” I questioned.

“Sure. People are buttoned up, stressed out bored.”

“You think?” I sip my coffee.

“Yeah, sure,” said Nell. She puffs on a cigarette.

“Of course, I’ve never had to resort to that…”

Nell looks confused.” 

“Mini cameras.”

“Oh,” Nell mouths. She blows a perfect smoke ring, intentional, or unintentional, I wasn’t sure.

“I have always had a boyfriend.”

“Mat,” said Nell. 

“Yes, Mat, and others,” I said. “But, I like people who like such things.”

“Really?”

“That lack of fear.”

“What would Mat say?”

“Oh, he’d be in it sure,” I said. “You know, if we were talking about our housemate Nicholas.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s say.”

“Let’s say,” said Nell. “What a waste he is to woman kind.”


Ah Nicholas, to watch you towel dry. How sexy you'd look wet, gazing down. Thick thighs, solid arse, big chest, that black hair and those blue eyes. How sexy were you, after we'd all taken those pills, standing there in front of me, in blue tracksuit pants, smiling, as I watched the blue fabric struggle to contain your fat sausage. You knew. You knew no one was looking, you stood for a while. It's hard to look anywhere else, when I'm sitting on the couch and your bulge.... Except for your smiling eyes and your knowing – e – look. You looked sexy when you brushed your arm against it, when Tim came back into the room.


“Um, hello,” said Nell. “Where have you gone? Come back to me now.”

I shook my head and refocussed on the present. Nell was looking at me with a concerned look on her face.

“You just checked out,” said Nell. “I was just about to check for your pulse.”

“What?” I laughed. “Ha ha.”

“Where did you just go?”

“Oh, I was just day dreaming.”

“I was concerned you were having a flash back to what we did on the weekend,” said Nell. “You know you read about it, people slip into a catatonic state…”

“I was just knocking on my unconsciousness’ door,” I said.

Nell looked horrified.

“Happily. It was a happily,” I said. “I could go back there.”

Nell could be a bit of a drama queen. She always said it was because she hung around with so many, actual, drama queens, and it had rubbed off.

My croissant came, with Nell’s ice cream Sunday, which was very elaborate.

“Look at that will you,” said Nell. She beamed at the sight of it.

“I like people who are open to any new ideas, not closed off according to what their parents have taught them.”

“Would you be horrified if someone secretly filmed you?” Nell asked.

I bit into the buttery, warm hamy goodness of my flaky croissant. “Nyr, I couldn’t care less.”

“I only think girls and gay boys would object,” said Nell.

“Girls and gay boys,” I said. “Is that misogynistic?”

We both laughed.

“I’ve never had a gay boy, so I can’t comment,” said Nell. “You’ve had a straight boy.”

“Ah Carl, I never knew a straight (Maltese) boy's cock would taste so sweet,” I said. 

“Oh, stop it,” said Nell. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“A good thing Alison knows about our love affair.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, sure, they had an agreement.”

“Was he cool about it, you know, afterwards?”

"Guy's try to pick me up, like I'm a poofter, or something," I think, was the last thing he said to me, out that night the first time I'd seen you since we slept together.”

“That’s funny.”

“I like people who are honest,” I said. “How’s it going with what’s his name.”

“Ha ha,” said Nell. She rolled her eyes.

“Danko.”

“Ah Danko, Lebanese boys are so secretive about who chews on their foreskins. I thought I'd given up the back seat of Holdens years ago.” Nell laughed.

“What? I asked.

“Oh, I had to bang his brains out in the back of his Calais to get him to admit to who he’d been fooling around with.”

“What made you think that?”

“Stella said she knew.”

“And?’

“Well, he’s always honest, um, when he’s in that position…”

“State.”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t think there is enough blood to work both,” said Nell. “Seriously.” Nell laughed. “He just can’t function mentally to lie.”

“And.”

“He swears he hasn’t… and I just stop what I’m doing, what I’m doing, leaving him in suspended animation and he … um, if I said begs… ‘I haven’t babe, not me, I never would…no… no…no…can we please… can you…” said Nell. She mimics her boyfriend Danko perfectly.

“Wow that’s, that’s.” All I could do was laugh.

“But it’s bad news for Stella though, apparently its Armin.” Nell sucked her top lip into her mouth waiting for my response.

“Stella’s Armin?”

“Yep, been doing the dirty,” said Nell. “It looks like Stella has got it around the wrong way.”

The waiter came and we ordered more coffee.

Nell lit a cigarette. I had quit, but I must have looked longingly at her cigarette, and she picked her packet up and offered me one. I took it without saying a word. Nell flicked her lighter and lit it.

“I like people who are artistic,” I said. 

“Who are we talking about now?” asked Nell.

“Spiro.”

“Ah Spiro, how I’d like to run my hands through his curly hair.”


You were getting out of your car in those white, cotton pants. It was hot, so were you. You saw me looking. You followed me upstairs. I couldn't help but notice how much you grew. You looked so sexy as you masturbated for me. A (uncut) cock that is thicker in the middle than at each end, is so, so sexy. I won't tell your boyfriend, I promise. And no, it doesn't count, because we didn't touch, each of us just enjoyed the show.


“Hey,” said Nell. “You have tuned out again.

I snapped back into the present at the sound of Nell’s voice.

“Don’t do that, it is creepy,” said Nell. “Your sunglasses are so dark I can’t see your eyes, and it is as if you have just stopped working.”

I laughed. That joint we smoked was now really kicking my arse.

“Spiro gave me one of his paintings to hang in that group of paintings I have on the wall in the lounge room.”

“How is Spiro?”

“Oh…” I shook my head at the image that came to mind. “Yeah, he’s good.”

Our coffee came. Macchiato for me, and a latte for Nell. There was a plate of banana bread as well.

“A minute on the lips,” the waiter said as he put it down.

“Banana bread,” said Nell. She pushed the plate towards me.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said.

“Rude,” said Nell, referring to the waiter. She was joking of course.

“I like people who are up front,” I said. 

“I saw Andre, did I tell you,” said Nell.

“The boy we both nearly had,” I said.


Ah Andre, I should never have turned you down that time you said, "I guess you want to have sex with me," after we'd shared ecstasy tablets. Mark told me that you bashed the last man you had sex with, afterwards. Call it intuition, I guess.


I shook my head. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“You are like one of those wind up dolls, that just keeps running out of wind,” said Nell. “You feeling okay?”

“Actually, I feel kind of luscious, really chilled out.”

“You tell me if you become unconscious, won’t you?” Nell drags hard on a newly lit cigarette.

I take another cigarette from her packet and light it. She watches me as I do, but she doesn’t say anything.

“How do I tell you if I become unconscious?”

“Oh,” Nell looked at me and smiled. “Do your best.”

“I like people who are unconscious,” I said.

“What?” said Nell.

“Did I tell you about Jay and Jamie.

“No.”


Ah Jay, Jamie taking your cock out of your jocks and sucking it until it was hard, as the sun rose and you snored... he shook all over, apparently. You're a big boy, Jamie said. Then he was nervous – and guilty, just a bit – and slipped it away again. He said it was hot, too. I guess, it's not the normal thing for a gay friend to do to a straight friend. But you did crash tanked into his bed, in your jocks that Sunday morning as Jamie was trying to sleep after a night out on e. What did you expect?


“Hello,” said Nell. “Jay and Jamie? You wound down again.”

Then I was wondering if that was a story I should be telling. Young Jamie and my step son Jay collapsed into Jamie’s bed unconscious early Sunday morning.

“That’s a story for another time,” I said.

I puffed on my cigarette.

“I like people who are contented and honest,” I said.

“I ache for it,” said Nell.

“Honesty is a big turn on,” I said.

“No matter what they say?” said Nell.

“No matter what they say,” I said. “How else do you know who they are?”


Saturday 18 February 2006


The Backroom

Dim lights and heat, nervousness as the boys mill about.

Tension is thick in the air, you can taste it, smell it.

My knee hits the barrel, it sounds like a gong. There was black plastic and tape all over the walls

Dark shadows, sweat and thick legs, places where it was too dark to see, but you could still see it writhing, there in the black. Men and more men cloths and skin all wet.

His T-shirt sticks as he tries to escape.

Muscular arms and moist hair, kneeling in the dark.

deep breathing, whimpers and grunts.

Tight grips with strong hands,

strong tall backs, bent over

wide shoulders and thin waists, jockstrap,

muscular legs all taught.

I feel in the dark, I get skin slippery and hot.

A knowing and nervousness and heat thick in the air,

as a slippery thick worm slides into its mark.

He groans anonymously in the dark.

Rubbing of skin, on skin, buffed bodies bounce off each other,

a hand slides up my shirt, touching nipples

hands rub across my chest

on my thighs, on my buttocks and my groin,

as the buttons on my fly come undone.

Browned summer skin, his T-shirt is over his head, well developed chest, beautiful breasts, I suck his nipples in return, beautiful curved legs disappearing into my crotch. Rub my cock hard, rub my balls.

Strong hands, holding me and pulling my balls away from my body. I think I want to come.

Sweaty chests against my sweaty back, I kiss him backwards and pull my cock free from grip.

Bulging shorts pressed against bulging shorts, pressed against my arse. Worked up and down, with a promise of what's to come. I'm easy for it.

I step side ways to get my breath. The drugs are spinning my head.

Two young boys rub up against each other, boyfriend tourists, at my back. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, they look fresh and sweet.

I turn and hold them in my arms.

I discover a big bulge rubbing against a shapely buttocks encased in stretch cloth as my hand slips between them.

"What's your name?"

"Brett," says bottom boy now being sandwiched between us.

My hand disappears up the Brett's shorts, he has delicate hair on the back of his thigh, against the hair on his lovers strong thigh, as he shows how their love might be.

Brett wants it, I can feel it.

"I'm Joel." He moans as he rubs his bulge into Brett's arse.

We kiss.

Joel smiles. His red lips suck the back of his Brett's neck, wet and hungrily and hot. Brett's thick neck chewed as he submits.

The stubble chin on his chin brushes my mouth as I grab his hairy armpits, and kiss his lips. His breath is sweet. He's sucking a mint.

"I want to show you how I fuck him," whispers Joel, as I taste Brett's sweet lips.

Joel's thick muscled arm around his hairless torso, holding him steadily in place. A boyfriends love, never to let go.

Brett lay his head on my shoulder as Joel's hand expertly explores the inside of his stretch black shorts. I kiss him. He writhes.

I suck his nipples, as he whispers, "Fuck me," in my ear.

I kiss his muscular abdomen, it is wet with my thick breath, as he is held.

My tongue licks his thighs and his shorts and his stomach.

He moans as the button rips and his shorts come a part. I suck his cock, as Joel's fingers fill his crack, pushing his cotton underwear inside him.

Brett moans, ready for his fill. His briefs are hooked under his balls. He's got work boots on, pale leather, as he sticks his arse in the air.

I twist his nipples with big strong hands, I squat to my feet.

Brett's crotch bulges, as his arse is massaged against his Joel's hard cock, as they slide together. Brett's breathing is thick, he bucks like a foal.

Buttocks in hands and hands on buttocks gripping tightly, Brett's tiny hips. Fingers slipping inside him, he's open and ready. A knowing, a wanting, heat and moistness. Our sweat drips.

Our lips are together, tongues together, Joel bites Brett's back and traces his spine.

Bending forward and kissing and caressing and holding and wanting.

Hands in his arse, Joel's hard cock slippery with lube.

beautiful manly arse flowering, perfect in its roundness. Bending and touching. Joel is tonguing his short black hairs, spreading his legs.

Thick brown muscular legs apart, fingers caressing, tongues licking.

Our tongues exploring, teeth and mouths, Brett is desperately moaning as Joel's tongues explores the inside of his arse, his sweaty velvet ring.

"Oh babe."

I lick his ears, as I massage his thick round testes, rubbing the length of his hair covered thighs, pushing his legs back still with his shorts around knees

His long hard shaft bounces, I grab it and rub it and hold it as tight as I can. He moans loudly, I squeeze tighter.

Our faces are bouncing off each other, teeth and tongues and rubbing. I lick his face, around his eyes. I am holding his hands.

I look around and there are men encircling us, showing us their cocks wanking with their scrotums bouncing out.

It's getting hotter, all thoughts gone, but flesh into flesh.

Joel's hard penis is against Brett's buttocks.

My scrotum's against his face and he's sucking and slurping as hips grind against his.

Beautiful male bodies perfect in nakedness. Thick hairy chests, tight waists hard cocks rubbing together. Mouths on mouths on mouths, arms against arms,

Joel's hands are on Brett's back pushing his buttocks down, as he squats on his thighs and takes my cock in his mouth. Joel's knob slides into Brett's arse crack, he instantly bends forward. "Ah...yeah," he groans.

His mouth sucks my balls. His legs divide. With our mouths engorged, Brett is impaled.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," he crescendos as he's filled, his moan vibrating on my knob. Joel's inside him.

"It's okay, we're boyfriends," Joel whispers to me, in the dark, as I put my hand around what's left of his slippery cock.

And then there is no room for my hand, as Brett takes the whole length.

Brett groans low and long as he gets his fill. I can just reach Joel's lips to kiss him hungrily.

Brett squirts his cum.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," he crescendos again. Stands up straight and shoots white fluid in five squirts, all down my leg.

Joel moans and spasms and ejaculates all over Brett's back.

My cum splashes on the floor in the dark.

Wednesday 15 February 2006

So, Where Do We Start

So, where do we start? I met Matt when he and I were employed to be barmen in a new bar opening up.

We were the barmen. We’d got the jobs through who we knew and not really what we knew. I was a friend of the owners PA. and was recommended by her. The owner trusted her judgement implicitly.

Matt was a the son of the owner’s best friend, and the owner owed his best friend a favour.

We were both told to turn up by the owner midweek to help with the setup, and get familiar with the lay out for the opening on that weekend.

There was also Mark who was going to be the third barmen, but Matt and I were going to be the main guys.

We hadn’t met before the Wednesday we were called in.


As it turned out, I was attracted to Matt the moment I met him. He was a good looking, masculine, guy who was funny, who seemed to like me.

Steve the owner seemed to know who I was the moment I walked in, I guess, because Matt had got there before me and had, of course, introduced himself.

The bar was a mess, it was absolute, it was pandemonium, all hands on deck, all systems go. Matt and I said to each other, “This is never going to open on Saturday.”

But they pulled off a miracle, and it did open. Our first Saturday night was frantic, we learned everything on the job, we were crap at the beginning, but we got good at it quickly.

The bar closed at midnight, because the owners didn’t want to work later than that, which was good. It was open Thursday to Sunday nights. Matt lived around the corner from me with his sister in North Fitzroy, as it turned out, so we hung out a lot after work.


Matt was dating some girl when we started working together, but he split up with her pretty quickly after we started working in the bar together.

We wore black trousers and a white shirt and a black waistcoat changing into them before work and changing out of them after work. I used to perve on Matt in his jocks as he got changed.

“You coming over to my joint?” he’d ask after we finished.

“Yeah,” I’d say.

Matt’s sister worked a job that required her to travel interstate a lot, so it was often just Matt and I back at his place in Batman Street, before I’d head home to my place around the corner.

Sometimes we’d smoke pot. Sometimes we’d suck on nitrous capsules. Mostly we’d drink coffee and eat and rave on and unwind from the bar before I’d head home.

We were both going to uni during the day, we were both in our last year.

I found I missed Matt on the nights the bar wasn’t open.

This went on for 6 months, until the end of the first semester, when the two of us went out drinking at a late night bar celebrating passing everything, celebrating we only had 6 months to go.

Matt’s sister was interstate when we rolled home to Matt’s place blind drunk. We both collapsed into his bed when we had sex together for the first time. 

In the morning, Matt was snoring the sleep of the dead. I got up and got dressed and headed off to my place without waking him.

Thursday night at work was the first time I saw him, or spoke to him. 

We were a little strange with each other, it was true. I’m not sure what you’d call it. I wanted him to say it was okay, that we were okay, but he was unusually quiet. I wanted to say the same thing to him, but I was nervous.

Then about 15 minutes into working, as he was preparing some drinks for a customer, he turned to me and said, “Why did you leave?”

“Why did I leave?”

Matt put the drinks on the bar.

“Yes. Why did you leave?”

Matt took the money and headed to the register.

I served my own customers. I prepared those drinks.

“I don’t know. I thought it would be weird if I didn’t.”

Matt served the next customers at the bar.

“And then you didn’t call?”

I put my customer’s drinks on the bar.

“I was waiting for you to call.”

My next customers wanted coffees. I went to the coffee machine.

“I was waiting for you to call,” said Matt.

I frothed the milk for the coffee as the coffees poured.

“I should have called,” I said.

Matt walked passed me with drinks for his next customers.

“I should have called,” said Matt.

I put the coffees on the bar. I took their money to the register. I walked back to serve.

“Are we okay?” I asked.

Matt pulled stubbies of beer from the fridge.

“I’m okay,” said Matt. “Are you okay?”

Matt put the beers on the bar. My customer wanted two bloody Mary’s.

“Yes, I’m okay,” I said.

“All I wanted to know is that we’re okay,” said Matt.

Matt served his next customers. He made cocktails.

My next customers wanted cocktails too.

Matt looked at me with his cheeky smile. “I want to do it again.” 

“Pass me the Cointreau,” I said.

“Only if you say you want to do it again too.”

“I want to do it again,” I said.

Matt smiled.


After that, our nights together after work, when Matt’s sister was interstate for work, Matt and I would have sex Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at his place, every night after work for the rest of the year, before I went home to my place.