Tough Boyfriends

monogamous                                           uncut
greedy bottom                                  thick thighs
takes it raw                                      tough sex
dribbles cum                                    feltches his arse
takes it hard, from behind                         in love
bent cock                                 thick and long

New Year

The Peel was packed. We came home at 4am, so I could change my shirt - a pale grey panelled t-shirt is not a good colour to wear when it is wet. Half the material was dripping and sticking to me, the other half was dry and a much paler shade of grey. I looked like a train wreck. Once I sat on the couch, however, I was done. I had just the one joint then got sleepy and just wanted to go to bed.

I took 3 e's New Years Eve and 2 New Years day. Guido gave me a ten-pack, with the words, "Don't skimp on the fun on New Years Eve." (I wonder where the rest of them are now? Hmm?)

We went to Tim and Nicholas', around 10am. Nicholas' sexy cousin Craig was there. I'm sure we give each other the eye, even when he was sitting next to his (fat/plain) wife cuddling his last born. Still looking inquisitively. You know the look, held just a little long, always looking over at me.

I'd taken more just before I left home, so I was pretty fierce, I was up to holding his gaze. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, I felt as we chatted, as I wanted to slide my tongue into his mouth with every word he spoke.

He's gorgeous. Cropped hair, olive skin, quirky smile, tough boy image.

We popped a pill and walked to Nurse Betty, but all the door sales had been sold. So we walked home again and I was in bed by 4pm.

Manny called just after that. He'd gone to bed by 10pm New Years Eve. He was full of dirty promises, but all talk in the end. He wanted me to go over there and spend the night with him, but I was far too comfortable (wrecked) where I was to move, by then.

 

Anton

I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I scratched my back. 

"Hold still," said Anton. He lay back on the bed and held the camera to his face. 

"Smile."

The flash blinded me, I couldn't see.

"Do you want something to hold on to?"

"A hand rail?" I said.

"No problem," said Anton. His voice was husky and low. "Hold onto this."

Good Bye 2006

Happy New Year

I look at my mum and my heart bleeds for her. She's a woman who lived, travelled the world, lived in London for years, spent new Years Eve in Sitches, Santorini, New York, Paris, who met my father on a Pacific Island when she was too bored to stay in Melbourne, when she finally did return home.

I never dreamed of marrying and having children until I met your father... he changed all of that, she has often said. And I love him for it. (Which is why she always said to us, go to university and get a degree and travel the world, never find someone and settle down and have a family) She didn't have me until she was forty, after all.

She and my father did well, amassed wealth, (she could do any thing she wanted, true) but, I can see in her, it all means nothing when you are old and sitting at home on New Years eve, a widow alone.

"I'll be in bed before twelve, don't worry about me."

Happy New Year, Lottie. I love you mum.

I have to get back into jogging or riding my bike. I haven't jogged since I was in Sydney for work a couple of years ago. Jogging around the Rocks and the harbour and Circular Quay, ending at the Opera House, sure beats jogging around Fitzroy.

I was going to start as soon as day light savings started, but I haven't once. I should try down through the Fitzroy Gardens and around the MCG. A couple of times around there should do it.
I used to jog with my dog, I miss him.

I don't want to feel fat next New Years eve. I always get fat when I give up smoking. The demon weed!

Happy New Year.

One More Sleep

Josh and I have been to see two movies in the last couple of days. Josh picked The Queen, a bit like a documentary, but done well with original footage spliced in. It was good, but, I think, I prefer it when Helen Mirrem gets her tits out.

I picked Shortbus, which I thought was great, although, I'm not sure if they were sure where to finish it. I don't know if I'm stupid, but I didn't understand the explanation of the title.

"I used to want to change the world, now I just want to leave the room with a little dignity."

I've been shopping, everything is ready, it is the second last day of the year. Guido is a pal sometimes, he made a delivery last night. He went camping to get away from all of his clients, and the madness that is his life, but found the solitude too much, so he hi-tailed it back to the big smoke. He says only he's seeing select... um... er... people, preferring to let the rest think he's away, but, I reckon, he's probably telling everybody that.

So, it looks like it is going to be the Peel. (Always difficult going out New Years eve, as I don't like getting to clubs until way after midnight) Otherwise, it would be Witness Protection, (which I think I'd prefer) but, I don't know, no car. I don't think I want to dick around with taxis'. It's New Years Eve after all? I'm off to Tim and Nicholas' at day break Monday and I can walk from the Peel to their house.

I just want to dance.

Mark & Luke are off to Tropical Fruits. They left today.

I'm now referring to Manny as the dumped guy. He was supposed to turn up on Thursday and, yet again, he didn't. I'm not calling him. Fuck him! And if I don't hear from him until after New Year, he really will be the dumped guy.

So, I guess, that means I'll be out looking New Years Eve. But, you never find them when you look, huh? So, I guess, that means I'll be dancing away in my own little world until the sun comes up. Hey presto, a new year.

(Hey Harley, I'm up for it)

No New Year's resolutions, they're lame.

Catch 22

Ben Affleck was too cute when he said his boyfriends name was matt

I’d like to fly to the moon on a lover’s breath

I want to stare into his eyes and feel safe.

I'd like to watch Robbie William's and Jonathon Wilks pashing, high as kites, drugged to the eyeballs. I'd like to watch them making out.

Jonathan Wilkes, what a guy

I want to give love it's best shot

I could imagine Heath and Jake as lovers

I want to stop looking, knowing that I have found the one.

Deep, down in the Batcave, George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell what a couple

I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be afraid

.

Whoosh... All Over

It's quiet, all over for another year... except for the extra kilos. I can hear the clatter of Xmas rolling away in the distance, ready to come back from the other direction in... how many days? Start counting all ye olde Xmas'ophiles, Jesus Freaks, myth peddlers, charlatans, merchants & shop keepers.

New Years Eve, here we come!

My Favourite Guy

Jason

A big, buff young guy sat diagonally opposite me on the train, in a blue singlet and long denim shorts. He had a crotch that was full. He was twenty something and gorgeous looking.

Well, being the dirty, crotch perv that I admit I am, I couldn't help but gaze at his. He had big balls, round and prominent. They looked like cricket balls. His cock lay over the top of them, like a slug. He had sexy, hairy legs, well, carves.

He and his three buddies, took up a 4-pod themselves. They looked like four country lads, heading to town. Because of the angle I was sitting, none of the friends could see me clearly. He got it, so quickly; first gaze of his bulge and he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye, coyly. I only glanced. I swear. I was reading the newspaper. He was listening to his ipod, the others were talking, so they weren't, really, paying him so much attention. I had been gazing at his still, handsome face. I love catching people when they are in another moment.

He checked out his own crotch, after I did, like he was checking to see what it was that I was looking at... the realisation dropped, he looked back up smiling and blushing, then looked back at his ipod. Then he'd occasionally look back at me. When he barred up, he crossed his hands in his lap and looked seriously down at his ipod. He'd push down on it, so subtly. He'd look at me intermittently, after that. If our eyes met, he'd stifle the smile and look away, but always holding it just that fraction too long - the gaydar trigger.

Then, his eyes darted over at me, I was looking. Both hands in the air pretending to scratch his back, exposing his hard-on, subtly, for me to see. Nice and fat, dressed to the left. Big. Quick glance at me. A momentary flash of a smile. Back to his ipod.

His name was Jason, one of his friends used it.

I wonder if young couples know that if they name their son Jason, he has a far greater chance of growing up to be gay?

Well, I mean, doesn't it seem like, of all the twinks coming out of Homo School, now a days, most of them seem to be called Jason?

Jason loves Matthew.

I have a hair dresser called Jason.

But cousin Jason plays football.

Jason dumped Kylie for Darren.

Imagine how many young Jason's are having love-ins with all the boy Argonauts, every Saturday night?

Missy is rapped around my foot purring.

I think Josh is home. He sent me an email saying he would be.

Must go and pick up... um... er... what it is that I have to pick up for new year's eve.

Jasus! I'm off to Lotties for dinner that's why I came home from the country. No more joints. Gotta straighten up. Fuck! I hate staring at her across the table kind of bozz-eyed.

The Second day of Festivus

Don't you just love the holidays? We sat around all day, in front of the open fire and watched the end of the Friends marathon - I was never a Friends fan while it was on, but I piss myself, now, when I watch it - followed by Project Runway - I never watched that when it was on, either. We smoked pot, got the munchies and ate all of the leftovers, all day.

Luke's voice woke me some where around 3am saying, Come on, bed time. I remember being unsteady on my feet, as I got up and followed after him. The shadows from the open fire - that Mark lit, by my bed - flickered across the ceiling, as I drifted off to sleep.

 

Jason & the Argonauts

Celebrate Festivus

Gavin and Steve were sitting on the floor with their backs to the seat of the couch. The Xmas trees lights flashed. Stopped. Blinked. Then flashed again. Gavin had spend Xmas day with his father and mother. They'd both flown back from England together and announced Xmas day they were buying a house together in Melbourne. Steve and his sisters were shocked, as their parents had been divorced for ten years. Steve had spent the day with his family. Boxing day was the first time they'd seen each other.

Gavin had put up the tree, he wanted his apartment to feel, at least, a little Xmassy. It just didn't feel the same, otherwise.

"A week long celebration, starting Festivus Eve," said Gavin. Finishing New Years day."

"You buy presents for all those you love and air your grievances," said Steve. "Then you give them presents."

"And you eat plumb pudding with caramel sauce and cream and ice cream."

"Kriss Kringle?" said Steve holding up four gift wrapped boxes.

"I thought we weren't doing the... present thing?" said Gavin.

"You're the one I love," said Steve. "I couldn't help myself."

It was the first time Steve had said he loved him, just like that, no booze, no drugs, no excuses.

 

God is Dead

OMG! James Brown died, yesterday. I'm going to put Sex Machine on repeat, for the entire day.Thanks James, for every thing.

Festivus

What happened to summer? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. But it's cold, like winter cold. It snowed in parts of Melbourne?

Xmas day went off without a hitch. Like clock-work, really. We gathered at Mark's brother's house for lunch, out in the hills outside Melbourne.

We looked at the new shed on the property, it's huge, of course. And the new tack room, for the wife's horses - she was plastered by the end, naturally. When she told six year old niece, A, who'd taken a shine to me for the day, to put her cold hands between my legs to warm them up, I wondered about taking the fish bowl of Chardonnay out of her hand. I adore her, don't get me wrong, but the demon drink sure takes her away. We looked at pa's new car, took it for a spin even. When pa said to give me a drive on the way back, I wondered what effect the four stubbies would have had on me, as I whirred the new car through it's paces around the windy, country roads. Nice it was too, although, I'd have gone for a darker blue.

Only the children, of which we're not classified, any longer, got presents. The family has been doing its bit for Australia - thank you Mr Costello - the place was littered with babies. Beautiful children, all of them. The family certainly produces gorgeous children - no more on the way, at the moment, even if there is one daughter who hasn't produced. She's had two amazingly beautiful husbands/boyfriends, either of who would have made a suitable sperm donor.

Then we all headed over to Lotties - me, Mark, Luke and friend Julien - to spend a few hours with her. My brother said that he was heading to Melbourne, but he wasn't coming to visit her, which made Lottie cry, Xmas morning when I called her first up. She was calling him a traitor for visiting his in-laws and not her. It pissed me off - if he wasn't up for visiting her, fine, but why tell her? But then when I was there, Lottie said that he was driving down from Brisbane and not flying, so I pointed out to her that he wouldn't even be in Melbourne by Xmas day. I'm not sure if she was accepting that excuse, or not?

Lottie had whipped up a feast, despite me telling her that we wouldn't be very hungry after a big lunch. But, I guess it was Xmas and she wanted to put on a spread, regardless. We'd all blown a joint in the car before we got there. Lottie said we all looked tired... and we were, very "tired" mum.

"Big lunch mum," I said. "You know what Xmas is like?"

Mark fell asleep on the couch, as Lottie and the rest of us, chatted. She was pleased.

We got back to the country by 10pm and watched a Friends marathon, smoking more pot, until the wee, small hours.

Don't you just love Xmas? Family, food, holidays, what is there not to like? 

Happy Festivus

Out All Night

"Why don't you get a key, instead of waking the whole fucking neighbourhood," I barked across the street, from my balcony, as my first words to the world, this morning.

I think of the guy who was slit from neck to chest, recently, for asking a thug to stop hitting his car with a stick.

"Oh sorry, sorry, sorry," she said, quietly. Now she's quiet?

I'd had it. I so wanted to sleep in.

The two kids, who live over the road, must go out all night and not take a key. Last Saturday morning it was Matt's turn; knocking, banging, yelling, screaming out, kicking, for half an hour, or more. Drunk and persistent. This morning it was the girls turn. Bang bang, thump thump, kick kick. "Mmmaaaaaaaattt!!!!!"

I lay in bed trying to accommodate the racket, but two Saturday mornings in a row, it was too much.

I grabbed the mull bowl and stomped off downstairs. There was silence, the banging in my head had stopped. I wondered if she is still sitting on the step?

The morning is cool, a little wet.

Boy, didn't it rain, last night. I walked down to Guido's, it was glorious. Cool and damp, I caught rain drops on my tongue. Every thing was on soft focus, including me.

Jazz played. Singers wailed. Smith Street hummed with people. It's nice to live some where where the streets are alive. I can't imagine living in the suburbs, where the streets are deserted after dark.

The wind blew. I feel alive in the wind.

A car got tooted, when it failed to take off on the green, at Gipps Street. As it started to move, a "one way" street sign fell from the front of it. The bonnet and left hand mudguard were damaged from an obvious collision with the sign. It drove at a snail's pace, into the dark up Hoddle Street. Other cars went clack clack on the debris in the second lane.

I got wolf-whistled, or was it propositioned, as I walked past the Laird Hotel. But, by the way he was slurring his words, I wasn't at all sure if it was me, or the Labrador tied to the pole just outside, to whom he was referring.

A big, red tongue panting in the night.

The Yarra looked so black, as Guido and I blew a joint on his deck. Dark and mysterious, as the soft, sprinkle of rain covered it like a fine net. Guido was pissed and had dropped a pill, fifteen minutes before I got there. I got the feeling he wanted me to take one, too, as he mentioned the fact several times.

"Put hairs on your chest," said Guido, as he handed me the joint.

"Thanks."

"The meaning of life," said Guido.

"What?"

"The only meaning there is."

I thought he meant the joint, but then I realised he was looking down at the river, again. He chugged on a long neck.

I was a bit wobbly, as I headed back home; two long necks and a massive joint. Guido rolls base ball bat joints, a dying art, you don't see that much any more. They blow your head, well, the way Guido rolls, anyway.

I bought a lamb kebab, I had the munchies, something bad, by the time I made it back to Smith Street. Drunk guys, in twos, were battling for taxis. There was a lot of fast talk and taxis' fleeing. My mouth was like the Sahara, I could hardly swallow.

The world was on tilt, beer goggles, everything was beautiful.

I was damp through by the time I pushed my back against the front door to close it behind me. I so needed to be wet, damp through, after the days of heat we've had and the days of heat we've been promised. I was beginning to feel that I'll never feel cool again.

I slid down the door and sat on the floor and ate my kebab. My wet shirt was cool on my back.