Beau & All The Boys

SMS. 1.00. Somersault is ace! Really good! – Christian

I woke up when it was still dark, the little hand was still on six, but only just. The metal cock ring around my balls was tight against my morning piss-fat. My cock throbbed and banged around as I moved, it was so rock, solid hard.

I turned on the Greek boy porn, with the incredible specimens of manhood it contains and made short work of my thumper.

Last night, when I was in bed stoned, I was thinking about that night that I took ecstasy with Angus, when he said, I suppose you’d like to have sex with me? I should have just said, “Yes.” Looked over at him. “Take your pants off, let me see you in your jocks.” He did it, compliantly; undid his belt, unzipped his fly, slid his black jeans down his legs. Those intense eyes, blazing with desire, Aryan style, contained in the inexperienced fear of the uncertainty of beauty. He appeared younger with his pants off; my stepson’s handsome best mate. He dropped his jeans, nervously, to the floor, almost a teenager biting his lips. His men’s leg’s showing the results of his gym routine; his cream cotton jocks starting to struggle with their contents. He pushes at it, to hide it and make it feel good, all at the same time.

“Move your hand away, sit back.”

Then he sat back with his hands behind his head and allowed me to admire how beautiful his big, hard cock was.

Josh had left amyl, I’d already got it from the freezer, I can’t be trusted with it.

I took a big sniff at it. Almost at once, I got a text from Beau saying that he’d noticed me gazing at his crotch and that it turned him on wildly – the last time we all took drugs, Beau wore his tracksuit pants the next day. I couldn’t help but notice. He caught me several times, because I wanted to be caught, and he smile broadly each time, like he wasn’t hating it. It was hot. I watched as he snogged Tim, as it grew quickly, sliding right up to his waistband. When he looked back I made sure I was looking at it. He put his arm over it instinctively and then smiled at me provocatively.

I text him back, you have a nice bulge, like you have a nice arse.

I want you to fuck me. I’m at your front door.

I tiptoed to the front door and let him in.

He’s solid and sexy naked. He lay on my bed and I licked his sweet arse. He murmured and whimpered and pushed his arse back in my face. He slid his arse up and down my mouth. There is nothing nicer than licking out a butch boy’s arse.

Then he was sitting on top of me hitting his big cock on my chest.

You’re negative, aren’t you?

Yes, I said.

He lubed my cock and sat back on it.

"Fuck me Christian."

The he did a kind of sideways movement and I slid in to him, bare back, I could feel every cell inside him.

Ahhhhh!, he said as I slid up his arse. I love raw cock up my arse. He shivered with excitement as he slid back hard. Skin on skin.

I want your spoof inside me.

I rolled him over and fucked him sideways. He responded by opening his arse up, all defences gone, no resistance at all. The boy from Roxbourgh Park, a total bottom. We fucked long, slow and deep. Beau moaning with excruciating pleasure the whole time. Riding him like the young colt that he is.

And then I dreamt about my stepson Jason. He arrived late, someone let him in, he was at my bedside gently calling to me.

I need to sleep. Is it cool?

Sure, I said.

He stripped off his shirt and his jeans and crawled in next to me, with his gym pumped body, in his flimsy jocks.

I’m sorry, he said. Will you hold me? We lay sideways wrapped in each other’s arms. Our legs entwined. Our cock and balls together. He felt solid and smelt like a man. He was warm and his skin smooth.

His cock slowly grew hard until it was huge and pushing into me and could go unnoticed.

“I want to take my jocks off,” Jason said. My cock went hard in response. He slipped them down. We held each other tight, hard cocks and big, soft balls pushing together... and fell asleep.

SMS. 9.06. Yeah I thought it great. Moody huh? Hey did u c that new comedy show on aBc on wed,

We Can be Heros? FUCKING HILARIOUS! Mockumentary on Australian of the year – Ab

Where all of that came from, I have no idea. I only smoked dope. It was the amyl, I swear. It just turns you into a space cadet. I swear that’s why I gave it up five, ten years ago. It’s time to grow up, just because

So you can understand why I woke with a rager, this morning.

SMS. 11.06. How about PORTIA as a name 4 Staffy? – Rachel

SMS. 11.10. Blur! Yuk! I like Tilly – Christian

And then Carmine messaged me on gayday.

SMS. 14.23. Driving past the Bite – Christian

SMS. 14.24. Big sigh! I still like the name Blu, but troops not persuaded as yet. Tilly is a bit 2 cute me thinks – Rachel

SMS. 14.27. Blu is available – Christian

When I told Mark I was going on a date with an Italian he said, Are you mad?

I came home and watched Law and Order with Tim. Smoked pot. Laughed a lot.

(Josh)

Today the sky was blue and the sun was shining. I lay in the middle of an oval, in Parkville, for a few hours as Carmine lay on my chest while he flew his kite. Then he cooked me dinner, watched Big Brother with me, sucked my dick. And he has a foreskin.

He’s half Italian, the other half wasn’t specified.

How’s Canberra?

(Christian)

(Rachel)

Now I’m having my last joint of my holidays. Just before I’m forced to switch the wretched iron on, sweetie ... my reaction to realising that I only had a week left of my holidays, was to go to the newsagents and buy every tattslotto ticket they had for this week. It cost me $70, but I didn’t care. Not a cent! Crap!

I soooooooooooo don’t want to go to work tomorrow. I’m not going. You can’t make me.

Switch the iron on, Christian. Double crap!!

No wretched dogs, I reverted to a cat person, I’m afraid. A big fat, lazy cat with attitude will do me just fine. I’d quite like two. No mess. No fuss. I’m more your cat kinda personality, anyway. I tell you that I find if Fred stays too long, I’m plotting his demise with Missy.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. I can’t stand it in humans, I’m not letting some mutt get away with it.

If I had a big property, some land where they could run, yeah, sure, I’d have a Rotti, I’d be on my third by now, for sure. But the inner suburbs are enough of a personality, demanding of one’s energy… oh, I don’t know what I’d call it. Can you tell I’m on my third joint? There is just not enough room in the inner suburbs for dogs. Thoroughly depressed, let me tell ya. Work tomorrow. Boo goddamn fucking who!

I spent a good part of the afternoon with a sexy Italian, lying on my chest as he flew his kite, in the middle of an oval in Parkville – remember, I drove past The Bite… blue sky, sunshine. Glorious. At one stage I got caught with my hand up his T-shirt playing with his nipples. The old couple came from nowhere, I swear. A few minutes later and I could have had my hands down his pants. The old dear gave us a sideways look, as we dissolved into giggles, as it was. I swear, it was for five minutes only though, out of three hours, mostly we just talked and chilled out. I swear them old couples, they have radar for it. At any other time the oval was completely empty… still; we floated on an emerald bed. Alas, all now but a distant, fucking memory.

The iron is screeching at me, I think that means it’s been on for fifteen minutes without moving. Everything in modern life eventually screeches at you. Have you noticed?

Life could be just so fucking simple, I tells ya. Five million dollars and I could write all day and have a hot social life, read sex life, to fucking boot. Work just gets in the way of the good stuff. If I don’t have to work, I actually get the inclination to leave the house.

On my grave it will read, No, he never really did do what he wanted to do, because he had to work. It’s a scandal.

Who do I complain to, because quite frankly I’m sick of it?

Fuck it, I’m having another joint.

(Christian)

Dear Raymond.

How rude of me. I didn’t even mention your name in Jeff’s email. Kiss ya arse. Nothing. I think it does say one thing to me though and that is I have reverted to the single boy mentality. It’s very interesting, well, I thought so anyway. I kind of like it.

So, how are you? How’s the deep north?

I’m having the last joint of my holidays. Just before I’m forced to switch the wretched iron on, sweetie ... I’ve just had two weeks off. It’s been glorious. My reaction to realising that I only had one week of my holidays left (last Monday, are you keeping up, sweetie?) was to go to the newsagents and buy every tattslotto ticket they had for this week. (just gone) It cost me $70, but I didn’t care.

Not a cent! Crap! I soooooooooooo don’t want to go to work tomorrow. I’m not going. You can’t make me.

Switch the iron on, Christian. Double crap!!

Thoroughly depressed, let me tell ya. Work tomorrow. Boo goddamn fucking who!

Even if, I spent a good part of the afternoon with a sexy Italian lying on my chest, as he flew his kite, in the middle of an oval in Parkville – just near the commonwealth games village…who would have guessed it was there, behind the red and yellow sticks… blue sky, sunshine. Glorious. At one stage, I got caught with my hand up his T-shirt playing with his nipples, the kite sailing high above us in the blue sky. The old couple came from nowhere, I swear. A few minutes later and I could have had my hands down his pants. The old dear gave us a sideways look, as it was, as we dissolved into giggles. I swear, it was for five minutes only though, out of three hours, mostly we just talked and chilled out. I swear them old couples, they have radar for it. At any other time the oval was completely empty…still, we floated on an emerald pond of grass. Alas, all now but a distant, fucking memory, sweetie.

The iron is screeching at me, I think that means it’s been on for fifteen minutes without moving. Everything in modern life eventually screeches at you. Have you noticed?

Life could be just so fucking simple, I tells ya Mr Adams. Five million dollars and I could write all day and have a hot social life, to fucking boot. Work just gets in the way of the good stuff. If I don’t have to work, I actually get the inclination to leave the house. Who wants to do anything else, when they leave in the dark and come home in the dark? I could read. I could be interesting.

Who do I complain to, because quite frankly I’m sick of it?

Fuck it, I’m having another joint.

Jasus! The iron is screeching at me again!

Sweetie, sweetie, when will this ever stop?

Big smile

Christian