Boys In The Street

There was a middle eastern boy in crimson velvet pants walking up Brunswick Street, as I headed home after work. There is something about velvet pants on a man, they leave little to the imagination and this guy had a lot to admire, as he walked in front of me. Thick dark hair and a handsome face and swarthy olive skin, as I would find out at the traffic lights, as he turned to look at me and unknowingly smiled. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a sexy arse, thick legs. The velvet of his pants seemed to stick to him almost like he was wearing tights like a ballet dancer might.


The sun shone


Walking next to him was an Aussie boy in blue jeans, doing that beltless, practically arsless thing that boys do now a days, with his jeans hanging down at the back. He had on black cotton jocks, which his firm arse cheeks were practically chewing from the inside with every step that he took. I could see the deep hallow behind the middle of the black cotton where the crack in his arse was.


It was a great day to be in Brunswick Street.