Spiro

I was out cleaning the front yard, the path has been covered over with dead hibiscus flowers for… well, ever. I was down on my haunches with a pan and brush. A cute, kind of blonde, kind of scruffy, but with his own style, got out of his car across the road. I first noticed the pants, they hugged him just fine. And when he looked around at me, he was looking intently. He was getting stuff out of his car, but he kept looking over, with burning eyes. Those cream pants showed everything, I reckon he barred up, just half. Open face, wavy hair, kind of. Two day growth. He was hot. He kept staring until he was out of sight, up the lane.

He was on. He was horny.

I had a joint, I was blown away. The garden was beginning to be beautiful, I could see hints of it. I’d swept the path.

I came inside and got a cigarette.

I decided to trim the box-hedge, it had grown so high, as to totally block out the garden behind. My wrist is still sore. I should have had it on my referral for my head scan. Stupid me. I chopped gently, favouring my left hand.

Then I noticed the cute boy across the road again, by his car. I didn’t see him go out there. He was watching me. I reckon he had half a fat, still, as he stood so I could see. He crossed the road again and I kept my eyes on his round crotch. He said hi and kept walking.

I decided, at that point, that the footpath needed a sweep too. It had been ages since it had had a really good clean. The sun was shining, I was getting a bit of sun. It had to be good for me. There were weeds growing out of the cracks at the bottom of the fence. They were unsightly.

A bit later he came out to move his car. He parked in front of the pub, he could see me in the front garden, subtly playing with myself.

“Hi,” he said, from over the fence. “What are you up to?”

“Gardening. Nice day for it.”

“Yeah. I’m in the recording studio. It sure is hot up there.”

“It’s hot out here.”

We smiled at each other, catching each other’s gaze. Nice smile, I thought.

“How many people live here, he said.”

“Just me and my flat-mate. She’s away though.”

“I’m Spiro,” he says.

Nice. Very nice.

“I’m Christian.”

We stood awkwardly for a moment. He blushed and headed back to the studio.

I went inside. My mouth was dry, I needed constant liquid.

I was watching the Australia Day Flag being towed by a helicopter. It was doing laps around the inner suburbs. I was cleaning. I was sweeping the yard, the footpath, I didn’t care. He obviously wanted it, so I decided I would just proposition him, if I saw him again.

Spiro came back from down the street. He sauntered up to me. I was standing on the footpath, I could eye all of him. He asked me what I did. I stumbled something about working for corporate types. He asked who? Not a usual question. I told him. I was a bit stoned, I felt like I was yabbering. I said something about the benefits of working for rich companies.

I asked what he did. He was an artist and a musician.

And I still didn’t tell him that I wrote. Mark told Hillary I wrote plays and she was fascinated and wanted to know if she would have ever seen any.

He had such a nice bulge.

“You look like you’ve got a nice cock,” I said. Just like that, somehow it seemed kind of easy.

“What?” he said.

“You look like you’ve got a nice cock.” He looked down at it. As he did, it bulged out. I like it when guys do that.

“Do you want it sucked?”

Well, it’s true, I’ve been feeling horny lately.

He smiled and kind of absent-mindedly rub at his crotch. I gazed at his bulge. He flushed with lust.

“But, I’ve got work to do and I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything that would upset your boyfriend.”

He smiled. Gorgeous! He’s just gorgeous.

“I think I know someone, who you know.”

“Who?”

“Steve. He used to be a speech writer for Cliff Campbell. Just someone I knew, knew the guys who lived behind the pub.” He pointed awkwardly at the house.

“It doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Do you live with your partner?”

“No, just a flatmate and she’s not home.”

“It was about four years ago.”

“I did live here with my partner, but it was longer than four years ago.”

“These guys have land somewhere else.”

“Well, yes that’s me then.”

“Steve said he had a threesome with the two guys. Does that ring any bells?” He smiled devilishly.

“Yeah, sure. That could have been me.” But I still had no clue who Steve was. Does that say something about me?

We both laughed and gazed at each other intently.

One problem is that it is about 40 degrees today. Everything is simmering and melting.

I decided I should just come inside, after that. I left the door open, though, despite the heat.

Another j?

I’ve been writing on my computer and going out intermittently to water the garden. The front garden is nearly dead. I was giving it a soaking, until the water began to run. Then I’d come back inside.

I really was mostly at my computer. That was a knock back, it’s tacky to push it now. He knows where to find me if he wants. But the front garden was nearly dead, when I cut back the undergrowth and could see. So I was going out and soaking it, until the water over-flowed and then I’d turn on the tap and let it soak in for a while.

I was watering and saw him go to his car, from the corner of my eye. I didn’t see him walk back, though. And then he headed across the road and sat in the gutter and spoke on his mobile phone, opposite, in full view. He watched avidly as I played with myself, very gently, not out or anything. For a moment I thought that he was distressed. Talking to his boyfriend, telling him he was going to have sex with someone else. Two other people came down the lane, I went inside. I had a piss. I got a drink. I lit a joint and wandered back outside, nonchalantly. He was gone from across the road. I turned the water on. His head appeared over the fence with hungry eyes. He wanted it.

“Come in,” I said.

He came around to the gate, awkwardly, his eyes intent, hungry. He stutter something as he came in the front door and grabbed hold of my crotch, but I didn’t catch it. His cock was hard. It felt good through his pants.

“I really just want a feel,” he said.

He didn’t want any body contact, he said. I think that meant that he hadn’t had sex. Or they were the rules negotiated with the boyfriend. Noble standoff.

“Do you mind if we just have a wank?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Got any porn?”

“Sure, what do you like?”

“What have you got?” He smiled. He’s got a sexy smile.

We went upstairs.

We wanked to porn. He had a beautiful cock. Big. Uncut. Slug…which fell out of his pants. We watched each other wank. He was fucken hot!

“Are you a bottom or a top,” he said?

“Top,” I said. “You?”

“Top.”

I asked him what he liked doing?

“Fucking and rimming,” he said.

I said I love rimming; slide my tongue up his arse.

I asked him if he ever has threesomes.

“Why?”

“Cause the cute Greek guy I’m seeing would love you.”

Every now and again he’d let go of his cock, it would rise up and stand to attention, between his buff-coloured hairy-legs.

“Is he a bottom?”

“Yes,” I said.

I gazed at him. His face was flushed. He looked hot, eyes darting from my face to my cock to the porn and back. He looked like Carey S. He really did look like Carey. Big cock thumping in his hand.

We watched each other.

He asked me if I had rougher porn. When I looked at what I had put on, it was practically a love scene. Stupid me, I thought.

We watched leather guys fucking, in between watching each other.

He said he was going to cum and wanted to know what to do.

Come!

“All over”…he looked to the floor.

“Where else are you going to cum?”

He smiled.

I blew. He blew straight after.

He pulled his pants back on and laughed. “I guess I’ll be seeing you,” he said. He said cheers before he walked through the front door.

He was pretty cool. Hot. Masculine.

I wish I’d said Happy Australia Day. But, of course, I didn’t. I was far too stoned. Barely able to communicate, really.

I lay down on my bed at about 6pm and woke up at 11.30pm.

Great way to spend a public holiday.

I got up and called Manny.