Sun and Sex

The day started off with Stuart rolling joints. I was riding over to my mum’s, he was going to the gym and Shane had shopping and an appointment with a water massage person, mumbling something about not wanting to drown. Pussy! But Stuart, he was keen to have a second and a third.

I headed off on my bike. It was a beautiful day, the summer seems to have returned once more. I'm exercising every second day and joints, or not, I was going to ride my bike. When Shane questioned my determination, I replied, that I could have a gentle ride in the sun, being dope effected, rather than riding hard. Having said that, I rode like a mad thing up all the hills and was pooped when I finally got to the Toorak Road hill, which I walked for the first time ever. There was an old woman in support stockings walking a Jack Russell moving faster than me up ahead.

I've eradicated all sweeties from my diet and am having fruit, namely apples, as snacks in between. I've jogged and ridden my bike regularly and my suit pants no longer feel tight on me. That's my fat indicator, the suit pants test.

It's funny, all the girls still say I am not fat and can't understand what I'm talking about and all the boys, read gay friends, say keep at it, you'll get there.

Just as I got to mums, she was waiting outside for a friend to come pick her up, two days early. She goes Mondays. She's not getting any better. I cooked her scrambled eggs. We chatted again about her continuing to live on her own.

I was home by 5pm and settled into wasting my life looking at internet porn. An hour, or so later, just as it was getting dark, I decided instead of staring at a computer screen, hand pumping, I could head out and meet someone in the flesh.

I got to Club 80 around 7pm, and it was, pretty much, empty. Too early, I thought. I had coffee and watched a stupid movie about a country town in America being terrorised by, what could be best described as, a pterodactyl. Oh, give me strength.

So, off I went after the hot Asian boy, who we will call white boy, who, as much as I tried, didn’t seem to be interested in me. So, I was hanging by the side in the upstairs, when this Islander boy came along. He wasn’t really my type, but he slid up next to me and started to gently run his finger nails along my arms, which felt nice. We cuddled, he was such a cuddle monster and he felt good and smelt nice. You know, sometimes I think that is how I want all sex to start off, gentle intimacy. But, of course, he wanted to go to a room and I didn’t and from then on he was always appearing next to me. I liked kissing him, he had big, soft lips and stroking him, but I didn’t want to do any more with him than that.

I was still after white boy and by then red boy – both the colours of their t-shirts. So at one persistent moment with cuddle boy, I said let’s go over to a dark corner and have a cigarette, you know, just to break the tension, nicely.

“You can’t smoke in here,” said cuddle boy.

“Oh, you can.” Well, not technically, but I don’t think anyone cares. Maybe they have to look as though they do, being indoors and all and the current smoking laws being what they are.

Now we hadn’t been in the dark alcove for long when, guess who, white boy comes in next to us with some other guy following, who proceeded to go down on him enthusiastically.

Now, I’m not sure what that said – of all the gin joints in the world and all that – but it was distracting. So, I left cuddle boy and headed off.

Not long after, I picked up red boy, who was really very lovely, sweet, unaffected, easy to chat to, dark curly hair, great smile. He was keen to get his... um... er... what's the opposite of end in?... and when he did he was enthusiastic and keen. He was taller than me, which isn't my preferred combination, shorter legs, longer legs, but, you know, you just keep pushing them down.

I was home by midnight.