You Know, Maybe My Thinking Has Changed

It's monogamy this time, though? I'm for it. Have someone special, someone to connect with. Connected sex is always the best.

I like having someone regular, someone I connect to. I liked it with Mat, he is the only person I slept with for years.

That isn't exactly true, but pretty much. Mat’s wanted me to have threesomes, like I did with previous boyfriends, but, you know, after all of that, I am pretty over it. Mat had sex with other guys and I didn't mind. It never cut into the time we had together. It was an occasional thing. And he always offered to pick up cute Italian guys with me... but mostly I turned him down.

But, you know, maybe my thinking has changed... treat me as I'm special, if that's what you say I am to you... and I'll do the same. I've told you how I want to play this time. You agreed.

You know what I mean?

Rolly Meets Marie

Scott Tander and Rolly Gregson were out jogging. It was hot, a hot summers day. Scott was running shirtless, Rolly had a t-shirt on.

They were heading up G Street towards home.

"Hey, you know that chick in the milkbar I said was coming on to me," said Scott.

"The one with the husband and the kid?"

"Yeah, that's her," said Scott. "Well, she's just up here. Come in with me and tell me it’s not all in my head."

"Yeah, sure," said Rolly. "Let's go."

They jogged up to the door of the shop. Scott grabs each side of Rolly's t-shirt. "Take your shirt off."

“What?”

“Take it off,” said Scott. “That way there is an equal temptation to look…”

“What?” said Rolly. “Equal… what?”

“She’s not just gonna look at me because I am shirtless, if we are both shirtless.”

“You are taking this a little too seriously…”

“Just take it off, will ya?”

"Sure, okay," said Rolly. And he pulled his shirt off.

The two handsome friends were now standing on the footpath shirtless and glistening with sweat.

A girl walked past, her head turning back to gaze at the two boys.

"We're just getting a drink," said Scott. "You get the drink, I'll go to the counter and pay."

"Okay," said Rolly. He laughed at the cheek of what they were doing.

"If her husband is there, don't worry, just play it cool."

"Okay," said Rolly.

They head in the door. It is just Marie behind the counter.

“Oh, Mr Scott, look at you,” said Marie.

“Just out jogging, and I’m thirsty, its hot.”

“You are looking very… fit,” said Marie.

“Thanks,” said Scott. “I keep working on it.”

“Well, it is paying off.”

Rolly walks up to the counter with the drink and stands next to Scott. “This is Rolly my mate,” said Scott.

“Oh my, you are both looking very… fit,” says Marie.

Rolly hands her the money for the drink.

“It’s hot work,” said Scott.

“I can see,” said Marie. “I can see. Hot for… both of you.”

Marie hands back the change. “Thank you.”

“Thanks Marie.’

The two boys walk out of the shop.”

Rolly looks back from the door. Marie’s eyes are following them all the way.

Scott screws the cap off the bottle and gulps half the drink down. Then he hands it to Rolly. Rolly sculls the other half of the drink.

“Well, what do you think,” said Scott. He turned and start to run. His shirt tucked into the back of his waistband of his shorts.

Rolly tosses the empty bottle in the bin and ran after Scott. Rolly tucks his shirt into the back of the waistband of his shorts. “Nah, it’s not just in your head,” said Rolly. “She’s gagging for it.”

Rolly slapped Scott on the arse, and they started to gain speed.

“So, what do you think?” asks Scott.

“It’s a can of worms,” said Rolly. “A can of worms.”

“Do you think she is pretty?” asked Scott.

“Pretty married,” said Rolly. “Pretty married.”

“So, you don’t think…”

“No, I don’t think.”

Marie

The Italian woman, at my local milk bar, flirts with Scott Tander. There's no doubt it – those eyes, that mouth, the way she runs her tongue around her teeth. She's got an older husband, maybe twenty years, and two young boys.

She smiles at Scott, in that way that isn't just about the milk he’s buying. She caress' her breasts absentmindedly. Well, not really, but Scott noticed, just lately, that her hand is always somewhere around her chest.

Today she caressed Scott’s hand, as she gave him the change. He kind of jerked his hand away, instinctively. Clearly, we're not supposed to touch now a days. Then she kind of smiled. Scott laughed nervously. And they paused, momentarily. It was a very weird energy. She ran her tongue around her teeth, just really subtlety, if it hadn’t been for the breast touching and the hand rubbing, Scott probably wouldn’t have thought any thing about it.

Sometimes, even as her husband is greeting Scott, she's making eyes at him.

Scott was happy to think that it was all in his own head. You know, maybe just a transference from him, at the times he is, should we say, toey. But now he has become aware of it, he thinks it's her. It kind of creeps him out, just a bit.

“Thanks Mrs K,” says Scott.

“Call me Marie,” she replies.

Happy Australia Day.

The Sun Shines

The guys in town today all had their “boys” out. It was sunny and singlet tops were the order of the day. Andre and Scott had their singlets on. Jackson with his muscles on display in his tight t-shirt. Rolly with his smiles and a tan. He’s shirtless carrying his sleeveless shirt in his hand.

And legs in shorts – Rolly’s hairy thighs, thick calves. 

Shorts you can see the crack up the back of the stretched material pulled across Andre’s zero % fat arse.

They walk... don't you like to watch them walk... from behind, watching how Scott and Jackson and Andre’s arses chews the material from the inside. Not to mention Rolly’s hairy legs, calves and thighs. His tight waist, with the elastic from his undies clearly on display

You just got to love it when the sun shines.

Girls ogle the four mates openly. Our boys bulge noticeably in their shorts. One girl wolf-whistled.

They are heading to the Yarra for a BBQ with the rest of the footy team.

 

The Arrangement

Andre had got a call from Ava, his lawyer friend, who he’s known since school.

They’d met up at a reunion twelve months ago, and Ava was surprised to see how good Andre looked.

“You’ve clearly been going to the gym,” said Ava.

“Yeah, I have,” said Andre. “Do you go to the gym?”

“I do,” said Ava. “For cardio, though. I don’t do weight training, or that.”

“You should,” said Andre. “I’d be happy to give you guidance.”

“You’re sweet,” said Ava. “But that’s more of a boy thing, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” said Andre.

“I don’t want to get muscles,” said Ava. “You know.”

“You don’t have to get muscles.”

Ava smiled sweetly and looked Andre up and down, before she met up with some girlfriends from school, across the room.

Andre hung out with his mates after that.

Later in the night, Andre meets up with Ava again at the bar.

“What do you do now?” asked Andre.

“I’m a lawyer,” said Ava. “What about you?”

“I make films…”

“Films,” said Ava. “That sounds interesting.”

“Documentaries. I’m a documentary film maker,” said Andre. “Not feature films. People always think feature films.”

“Oh no, I think that sounds much more interesting,” said Ava. “Anything I’d know?”

“I made one on whales that was popular this year.”

“Not Giant’s of the Sea?”

“Yes, did you see it.”

“That was wonderful.”

“Yes, it turned out well.”

“Any others?”

“Hand to mouth…”

“About homelessness in the city?”

“Yes,” said Andre. “One on drones.”

“Eye in the Sky.”

“Yes. The Great Southern Land. And Hugo, about my favourite actor.”

“I’ve seen them all,” said Ava. “You are very clever. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” said Andre. “Makes a change to how you felt about me at school.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You hated me at school.”

“I never hated you.”

“You wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is so,” said Andre.

They drifted off to their respective groups with their drinks again after that.

Later in the night when they were both pretty drunk they bumped into each other again.

“Well, perhaps you weren’t as interesting, at school,” said Ava. “Or so damn hot.”

“You think I’m hot?” said Andre.

“You are,” slurred Ava. She waved her hands up and down Andre, “Who knew that this would all come.”

“I think you are hot too,” said Andre.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” asked Ava.

“No, no girlfriend.”

“Is that true?” said Ava.

“What? Why would I make that up?” said Andre. “I’d more likely lie about having a girlfriend, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t that make me look better,” he slurred.

“Not if you think you are getting into my pants?”

“Am I getting into your pants?” questioned Andre.

“If you haven’t got a girlfriend?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” asked Andre.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” said Ava. She reached up and touched Andre’s hair. “I’ve always liked red-heads.”

Andre couldn’t help but smile. Ava Wallace and him, who’d have thought. “So?” he said.

“So?” repeated Ava.

“Do you want to come back to my place, in that case?” said Andre.

Ava must have been impressed with Andre.

“She wants a return visit,” said Scott. “That counts for a lot.

“She doesn’t want a boyfriend, she says she is too busy with her law career,” said Andre. “But she wants to hook up when either of us, you know, have a need.”

“That’s great,” said Jackson. “Best of both worlds.”

“She said she’s never had better sex,” said Andre. “She said she’d be keen to fuck again. No strings.”

“She said fuck again,” questioned Rolly.

“Her exact words,” said Andre.

Jackson and Scott hi-fived. “Way to go Andre.”

“She loves red-heads,” said Andre.

“Well, it looks like you are the guy,” said Rolly.

They had hooked up a few times since the reunion. And they had always had a good time. It turns out Ava really likes sex with Andre Ava whispered in his ear last time, “I love your red hair, and your big dick.”

Ava had just called Andre. She was really stressed out form work. She needed Andre to drop over to her place.

It was hot. Andre was in shorts and a tight t-shirt. He thought he looked hot. Ava, apparently, always though Andre looked hot.

Confession

My ex comes out and says that I have the best cock of all his boyfriends. Just like that. Over the crowded bar. We met up last night. We'd had a couple of beers. A few. He says it loud enough for the couple next to us to look over. She smiles. He doesn't. She looks down at the front of my pants.

I stop myself from spontaneously touching it. Just. Is that an instinct for protection?

I look at the couple. I try not to laugh. I look back at Sam.

It's got just the correct amount of girth. He smiles. He drinks his beer.

I try not to blush. I can't. I don't know what to say. I stutter.

I ask about his other boyfriends, you know, generally, not speicially.

He confirms that Michael Brown, the guy after me, had a small one. Thought so. He was always way too aggressive.

My boyfriend is out of town. He smiles again. Is his grin just a little wonky? Or is it the eye?

Good old Scott. Developer. Luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived. His first resort, on entirely borrowed money, was a financial gold mine. Get's really antsy when Sam starts calling him Blake, whenever I'm around. Last time at his birthday weekend, I thought it had gone really well, I hadn't heard him say it once. On the terrace, goodbye breakfast, He passes his fish dish to me, he can't finish it. Give that to Blake... um... er... he grimaces.

We stared at each other. Scott was behind me. I didn't want to move. He pushes the plate at me. I spin around and Scott is waiting with arms out and mouth open.

That's the eighth time I've counted, how about you? I hand him the half-eaten plate of snapper.

Sam doesn't find it funny when I bring it up over beers. That's not funny. He smiles. Seriously, I've got to stop doing that. I tell you.

At his last birthday, right at the end, I snuggled into him and danced dirty, just for a minute. Sam was drunk, Scott was watching, I wondered how far I could push it. I knew Sam would respond, just because we've known each other since we were kids in school, practically. He knows, and I know, that nothing is in a cuddle from me to him, other than friendship.

Sure, we were a couple. Sure, everyone wanted us to stay together. Sure, his mother said,

Well, you know which one I'd prefer...

...when Sam got... what?... committed to Scott. But that was all kids stuff, childhood sweethearts, we were far too young. Truthfully, that was a whole other life time ago.

We danced close. I thought we fitted. I've got lifetime status. Can you say the same thing? I thought, as I looked over at Scott. He only glanced twice. He kept chatting to Audrey... looking like he was having fun.

To Scott's credit, he didn't even seem to stress. He continued chatting; the smile didn't leave his face. But he was keeping his eye on us, just out the corner, I could see that.

You have got the best cock, he whispers, so we aren't gazed upon again as drunks, again, by the slightly up-tight couple, who are both drinking their drinks through straws.

Well, to tell you the truth... I've never had any complaints.

Listen to you, Sam says. He has the most beautiful smile.

I knew Michael wasn't doing it for you, I said. You always looked in need. You always looked unsatisfied. Pissed off, even... back then. Michael hated my guts.

I'm not saying anything bad about Michael.

I hold up my little finger. He nods.

Hard act to follow, He says. He sips his beer. I'm only talking about size. Don't praise yourself in any other department... He... er... says.

We gaze over our beer glasses, as we drink.

It was hot in there.

My coat flaps open. The wind blows. The footpaths are, relatively empty. I smile about both instances, more or less, in exactly the same way.

Awake

I'm sitting up in bed, as the sun comes up smoking pot.

I fell asleep on the couch watching TV. I was dreaming about being lost in some religious cult. The evangelicals were blaring from the flat-screen, when I woke up.

“Ah!”

That's what the lost insomniacs are given a diet of, what they get when they are at their most vulnerable, sleep deprived, angsty, looking for answers. It's the state water-boarding gets you too, where you will admit, accept anything. I object to them, keep that American disease in America. Surely, old movies are better for them.

It seems the story of the deluded comes creeping at night, like rats.

I'm going to watch some porn.

It's Sunday morning, just breaking.

I had a fight with Mat. I am alone, on the weekend for the first time in, I don't know, how long.

I sign in to see if Carlo is on Facebook, it's 7.30 am and he's up early sometimes. He flirted with me on line, last time we were on. He said he wanted to have sex again. Right now, I can't think of a reason why not.

Mat shaves every hair off his body, to completely hairless. Carlo has a hairy chest and hairy stomach, among other things. I miss hairy guys, sometimes, you know.

Everyone fails at Marriage

In every day, in every way. You seem to see them fade away. So much hope at the beginning, so much hate at the end. Whoever knew that was the way they would end.

The boys cheat. The girls cheat. The girls can’t forgive the boys for betraying them. The boys can’t forgive the girls for getting another dick inside them. And it all falls apart from there. The girls get revenge, if they can. And the boys, in some cases, are capable of something much worse. 

The boys find some younger chick to share their bed. The girls live out their days alone, regretting giving up work and forgoing their wages and super to have his kids.

The kids never really get over any of this. Their lives were better with married bliss. But how many times did the joy turn into fights?

Step fathers ensure. Step mothers moved in too soon. Blended family’s that worked, or that bled to death. So many uncles, so many wives. They never thought how this would affect their lives.

Married too young. Married for love. Did what their parents wanted them to do. Ran away just the two. Hung on too long. Never gave it a shot. Were never suitable as a pair. Their love died on the vine. Someone else turned their heads. He just liked taking girls to bed. Both too attractive for their own good. Married up. Married down. She trapped him with a child. He lied so as not to be gay, he didn’t want to live that way. They both misrepresented what that wanted for love, too young to know, stupidity all around.

And, of course, it is never going to be you, your love is for real and it is forever, until it is.

The Queensland Floods

The only trouble with the Queensland floods was there wasn't enough water. The job didn't get finished.

Ha ha, he he! Is this just a mean old smarty pants Victorian joke at the expense of our northern cousins? And waiting for that twangy accent to fire up in protest. 

Yep, I guess it is. Ha ha, he he. It's like being mean to your country cousins, which is always fun. More fun than beating dumb animals with a big stick, not as wet and sticky. More fun than leading old ladies halfway across roads and waiting for the screech of brakes and the thud. More fun than denouncing Jesus in front of Madge Vickers-Waffle and watching her stammer and for her to clutch at her pearls and finger her bible.

More fun than a box of monkeys, or a room full of puppies. More fun than… oh, so much fun one can have keeping one’s clothes on.

There Should, Of Course, Be Jam

There should, of course, be jam in our lives. Life is too short without jam. It makes everything sweeter, nicer, brighter, happier, fruitier. It is sunshine in a jar. It is joy with a screw lid. It is brighter & fruitier than a gay cruise. (the type with a boat, that is, not the other kind) It is the basis for a lovely day.

What the world needs now is more colour, that's, lots more colour, fruity colour, colourful colour, happier colour, colour that makes you feel gay, of course. 

Jam it is lovely. The colours of the rainbow, captured in glass. Every colour under the sun.

Look at it, feel it, open the lid and taste it. Dip your finger in and lick it off. Double dip your finger, life is too short. Eat it with a spoon. Suck it up with a straw. Wipe it all over your mouth. Spread it thickly on your toast. Slather your fresh bread with butter and jam, pile it on thick, role it into a cylinder.

One of the great mantras for life, there is always room for more jam.

Never Say You Are Sorry

Never say you are sorry.




Never?




No never.




Never?




You can never admit such defeat. You'd be a gonna.




A gonna?




Dead. Death. Trampled by all the others. The stronger ones, who would never admit defeat.




Dog eat dog.




Yes, that is right.

Jump When I Say Jump

Speak when you are spoken to, jump when I say jump.

Jump!

Too slow.

When I say jump? Okay? Jump.

Why aren't you jumping?

Don't make me get my whip.

Jump now! Don't think. Jump! Yes, now.

Crack! Ka-cher! 

There you go. Well done.

Now, we have to work on doing it at the same time.

Together?

Yes, together. Like a well oiled machine. Jump!

Come on! Now! All of you!

Crack! Ka-cher! Ka-cher! Ka-cher!

Yes. Better.

Again!

New Year’s Eve

The city was alive New Year's Eve, with lots of hot boys all heading somewhere. Chatty, sexy, full of bravado. Sexy wog boys in tight jeans. Everybody was happy, laughing, smiling. The girls were hot, they looked the part.

We caught a tram and we didn't have to pay. It was loud and packed. It seemed bright, lively, and heading some place for the night. We felt like a gang, a part of a gang and without talking we were all out with each other, even if we didn't acknowledge each other, exactly.

Mat’s mum and dad have retired to a life on the sea. Their boat was moored in Victoria Harbour one boat from the end of the bay right next to the barge that was letting off the fireworks. It was spectacular. The colours were amazing, the noise was thrilling. I should have taken some photos, but I was too lost in the moment.

The fireworks were fantastic, big and gay. Bang, bang, bang. Boom, boom, boom. We watched them explode over Victoria Harbour, reflecting across the water, quite beautifully, from the bow of Mat’s father’s boat.

I drank champagne and I'm not paying today, amazingly. Champagne, I mean it's a girl's drink, it usually makes me giddy and weak. It usually gives me a head ache and needing to lie down. Beer is the gay drink, all those straight boys would be surprised. What I mean, of course, is that gay boys have taken to it like they take to cock.

Everybody was happy, laughing, smiling, looking for a good time.

Mat’s mum turned on the food, of course, she laid it on, sea food, caviar, chicken platters, meat, salads of all kind, all laid out. Pavlova and cheese cake and fruit salad for dessert and champagne and wine and beer, as much as you could drink and eat, all laid out on the main deck. 

It was lovely, lying back on the plus cushions on the deck of the huge boat, it was like we had a wide screen TV to the celebrations.

Happy New Year.