Like every gay boy I've ever known

Tagged

Tagged by Paul Up Late.
Eight things that nobody knows about me. Things I have not told. Let me see?

As a fourteen year old, on holidays, I was attracted to the public toilet near where we were picnicking, when someone said there was a man hanging around it. When nobody was looking, I sneaked around the back way and masturbated in one of the cubicles.

As a fifteen year old, I seduced my well developed twelve year old cousin, Doug. The chase was more fun than the catch. We didn't do much, just play a bit. He eventually suffered from some mental condition and the last time I saw him he didn't know who I was.

I used to steal money from my great aunts purse, as a sixteen year old, visiting on Sunday afternoons. Dementia, cakes - avoid the cream ones - and one hundred dollars, nice afternoon. It was for the thrill, I didn't really need the money. I figured I was cheaper than a nurse at $25 an hour. Big smile. She adored me, as I adored her.
She left all her money to me, anyway. She's the reason I have never rented, much to Tom's amazement.
School. Uni. A couple of years in London. Buy my first house on my return. May be I have always got it all too easily?

As a seventeen year old, I was on Black Rock beach with my grandmother, when she asked, who she called a nice young man, in a black and white striped t-shirt, the time, who was so obviously checking me out, that I made an excuse to go back to the beach after we had got back to the house, to find him. But he had gone, by the time I got back to the water. I found about the bushes though and I had his spoof sticky inside my jeans when I got back to drinking hot chocolate with nan in her kitchen.

I had my first threesome at school, in the bush walking store room. Alex suggested it. I got the store room key. He got Tom. Watching Tom and Alex pash was hot, but we were all a little too nervous for sexual gymnastics.

As an eighteen year old I got caught shop lifting at K-Mart. I just wanted to see if I could get away with it. I don't know what I was thinking? I had the money in my wallet to pay for the goods. I didn't get away with it. I went to court, on my own.
The store detective found me at court. "You don't belong here. You are not like the rest. You're a good kid. Go and see this barrister inside the court." She handed me his card. "He'll represent you. Plead guilty. You'll be fine. No conviction, just a bond."
"Thank you," I said, stunned.
"My pleasure. Now go and see the barrister. You haven't much time."
I got a bond. I didn't even have to speak. The barrister did all the talking. Good thing, I was shaking too much.
I learnt my lesson that day, walking out of the court house. I have never stolen any thing, ever again. Not even a Biro from work.

I cheated on my girlfriend with my best mate, despite always denying it to her.

I was once, ridiculously, a suspect in an armed bank robbery, the investigation for which followed me over seas. My most unlikely friend was suspected of being the mastermind, which was the funniest bit.

Although, the last one was never a secret like the rest. All the rest, I've never told a soul. The bad decisions of youth.

Friday Man

Friday Man was on the tram, this morning. I didn't see him until I was about to get off. He obviously doesn't get on at Brunswick Street, I've got that wrong. He was in casual clothes. Soft cotton pants that bunched around his groin. He adjusted himself, as I gazed at him. He's got bedroom eyes, almond shaped, dark, intense.

He's got a good mouth, a sexy mouth. I could put it to good use. I’d like to taste his breath. Taste the warmth. Taste the manliness. Taste his fluids. 

Thursday Morning

I left home right on 8.30. I figure it is the post 8.30am tram that Friday Man catches. It rained for a minute, just as I was about to leave, but stopped pretty quickly. I love the rain. I love winter. I love getting rugged up from the cold.

There are two high school boys who leave their house, some where in my street, about the same time as I do, every morning. They are, let's say, handsome boys of about sixteen and fourteen in their Xavier blazers and ties and suit trousers. (Tom went to Xavier.) Two gorgeous bookends. They were in front of me as I walked up my street, this morning. The taller one gives me sideways looks, the younger one never reacts.

When the first tram was jammed full, I was left on the footpath with the school boy brother's, after it had slid away. I started following them, as they started to walk up Gertrude Street. The brothers walked up George Street and I watched them go, laughing and chatting, as I walked up to Brunswick Street, Friday Man's stop.

Drippy-Eyed Old Woman, with her usual wet, disease sheen all around her eyes, got on the tram with me, at Brunswick Street. Some rat-faced receptionist played good Samaritan giving up her seat for old Drippy-Eyes, looking upon those who remained seated with scorn.

"No," grunted the old woman. "No."

"Oh, but I insist," said, I would suspect a filthy Christian, good Samaritan Woman. "I'm getting off at the next stop." Self serving smile. "Please. Sit down."

Drippy-eyed woman took the seat with her usual look of bewilderment.

Narcolepsy Donna Chang was also on. She lay across the ticket machine, initially, coughing freely over the buttons. I wanted to grab her 4 foot high face and bang it into the edge of the machine. "Other people have to use that machine, Donna! Hand over your phlegmy mouth, please," as her teeth fell from her gums, one by one.

The seat next to Drippy-Eyed woman became vacant and Donna Chang floated herself over to it, holding her handbag ahead of her, as if it was something diseased. The tram made a sudden stop and she stepped on my foot, as she sailed into Back-pack woman, sitting opposite Drippy-Eyed Woman, grabbing Back-pack woman’s tits to steady herself.

She smiled her gummy, toothy smile at me, as if in acknowledgment of the foot violation, once she'd settled herself. Yes, yes, get some sleep you freak, I thought. She smiled again, as if to acknowledge those thoughts, just as her hands slipped around her hand bag and her eyes slipped shut and she was gone.

I gazed down at Drippy-eyed woman and decided I had to move, as I couldn't stand, or sit, looking at the foul old woman all the way into the city, I could barf my breakfast. Besides, back-pack woman, sitting opposite her, was making all the right moves to be getting off.

I didn't want her seat with its obvious drawback. So, I headed to the back section of the tram.

Slitherin was there, ripping up playing cards, go figure. Revolta was sitting, he was standing. They tried to be too clever by sashaying down to a double seat just vacated, so they could do their guppy-faced, canoodling nonsense that they do. But some whippet of a girl slipped in front of them and got one of the seats, so they had to sit facing each other. Of course, they lent forward, pushing their faces close together. Of course, they made sucky-mouths. Of course they were just vile! Revolta made some joke about the fat man with coffee behind his back, grabbing her chest and making dead faces with her tongue hanging out.

I looked up and down the car, no Friday Man. Damn. Hardly surprising, since I got on at his stop.

 

Friday Man

I admit that I get my jollies from gazing at guy's bulges in the morning on the tram. All those suit pants pushed out, all those strapping boys fresh from their morning wank. Fresh jocks. Crisp shirts. Striped ties that rub over those cocks, as they sit. Bed room eyes. Distracted. Getting somewhere. Thinking of work. Not paying any attention to what I'm doing.

I just admire them. Freely. Not trying to bring attention to myself. I never go straight from their bulge to their eyes. I'm not trying to pick any one up. I'm just on my way to work and I'm just trying to amuse myself.

I just gaze nonchalantly. And occasionally, like Friday morning, I get that set of eyes that dart a look at me and look away, only to look back again. Nervous. Interested, somehow. Tuned in.

Maybe he's noticed, I think. Looking right passed me, but staring peripherally. You know when you've got their attention. Guys who aren't the slightest bit interested, don't notice me looking anyway. It's not in their programming. He was standing up, a seat, or two, away. I was sitting down.

My eyes are dropped easily. Black pants. Nice, round fist of a lump. Well packed. Big balls. Cock to the left. Look blank at the far end of the tram. He does the tell tale look down, looking at what I was looking at. Is it that impressive?

I look up. He is looking at me, I hold his gaze. He holds longer than he means to, he looks away.

I hustle and amazingly get my ticket and a seat, this morning. I slip between people and fluke it. She's fat, tacking up most of the seat. Maybe it wasn't such a fluke. I look up and there he is, diagonally opposite, Friday Man. He looks over at me with intense eyes and looks away. I think he remembers me? I catch his gaze, I hold it. He looks away. I hold my position, he looks back. I hold his gaze again. He's into it, his eyes give him away. He's making the acknowledgement. Connection. He looks away. I drop my eyes to that magnificent bulge, it's like he's got a hand in there.

I gaze at the bright coloured cars through the window.

I look at him, he is returning my gaze, I look away. Look back and he is still looking. I hold his gaze. We sit staring at each other.

I drop my eyes straight to his cock. His legs flex a part, momentarily, as I looked down. He'd have such a big dick, I think. I could see it laying slug-like over his balls. I look up to meet his gaze, expressionless, just a smile in my eyes. He stares back, curious. Head slightly cocked.

A swish of material and a fat woman with assorted carry bags in her hands and a ticket between her teeth is looking down at me. My mind boggles that she might want me to take the piece of card from her torn purse of a mouth and validate it for her. I feel myself recoil.

"No, no, I don't want a seat," she mumbles. She eye-balls me. She takes the ticket from her lips. "I sit all day," she says. She has an accusational tone.

 

Gavin and Steve Get Ahead

Gavin and Steve are studying identical uni courses. Steve, six foot, blond, blue eyes. Gavin, six foot, dark, green eyes. They go to uni, studied law together. Very sweet. Wide-eyed and innocent, if you like. But Y Gen, not hung up.

One of the older, gay, lecturers, at the law faculty, asked Steve if he’d wait back after a lecture.

“Your, er, mate…”

“Boyfriend,” said Steve. He’d been emboldened by his relationship with. Gavin since they’d started uni.

“Er, yes, of course.”

Steve could see a smile briefly flash across Moriarty’s face, so he felt safe in his declaration.

“He’s not here today?”

“No, he had to go take his mother somewhere.”

“Oh.” Moriarty smiled. “A boy who is kind to his mother, er, very nice. And you two are…”

“Boyfriends,” Steve offered again.”

“So that is with, um, all the implications, is it?”

“I guess,” said Steve. He wasn’t quite sure what Moriarty meant, but he kind of wondered if he did.

“For some time, then?”

“Boyfriends?”

“Er, yes.”

“Since we were at school.”

“At school, you say?”

“Yes.”

Moriarty’s eyebrows raised up. “Oh, well, that must have been very, er, um, you know…“

“What?” said Steve.

“It must have been very life affirming?”

“I guess.”

“Dare, I say, um, exciting.” Moriarty suddenly look a little sheepish, as though he’d asked a question he kind of felt that he shouldn’t.”

“And confusing, all at the same time.”

“But, such discovered, I would assume.”

“Yes, it was that.”

“Did you share it with your school mates, now did you?” Steve thought he meant their relationship status, but somehow, he wasn’t completely sure that’s what he meant.

“Not exactly. A few of the gay kids. But not to everyone, not straight away.”

“So, there were gay kids that knew, and who you knew?”

“Yes.”

“Fascinating,” said Moriarty. “I’d love to chat to you more about it, do you have time?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Steve. “I don’t have any more lectures today.” Steve suddenly had warm feelings towards his lecturer, he wasn’t really sure why exactly.

“Oh, I expect you have other things you want to get done?”

“No, not really,” said Steve. “Not today, as it turns out.”

“Do you want to walk with me to my rooms?”

“Okay,” said Steve. 

They walked across the quadrangle 

“Are you enjoying the course?”

“Yes.”

“You and your, er, boyfriend, both?”

“Yeah, we both love it.”

“So, you are having your choices confirmed, so to speak?”

“Yes.”

“No regrets?”

“None, so far.”

“It is never good to have regrets.”

They went upstairs to Moriarty’s rooms. It was a large, long room with a first floor balcony at the far end.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” said Moriarty. He disappeared through a door off to the side.

Steve sat in one of the three leather couches. He had a funny feeling about old Moriarty which repelled him and turned him on all at the same time. He wondered if he was going to be proved right in his suspicions. He loved the sense of the impending, it made him feel alive. He loathed the stuffy sameness of life, he got off on the unknown. He loved the thrill of life.

Moriarty reappeared. “Come out onto the balcony, it’s a really nice space. Steve followed his lectured out through the French door.

“It is nice out here,” said Steve.

“It is my favourite spot in the world.”

“I can see why.”

“You can be here, which is essentially amongst it all, but at the same time no one can see you.”

Steve nodded in agreement.

“Do you like the sense of the unknown, er, do you?”

“Is this guy reading my mind, thought Steve. “Yeah, sure I do.”

Moriarty stepped towards a table by the chair and picked up a wooden box. “You’re not, er, too, um, conservative, ah, in your… thinking, are, er, you?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

“You’d call yourself progressive, with progressive thoughts?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Moriarty opened the box. “Joint?” The box was filled with rolled joints.

“Ah, well, you are full of surprises,” said Steve.

“I don’t think it is very surprising, not really. The oldest known herb to man.” Moriarty laughed.

“Are you trying to get me stoned.”

“Well, of course, I am.”

Steve must have been taken back with that response.

“Oh, only for your own pleasure. For conversation”

“Okay,” said Steve.

“You will be perfectly safe, don’t worry. I find it relaxes me.”

Steve took a joint from the box, as did Moriarty.

“One each?” said Steve.

“Oh, yes, I find one hits the spot the best,” said Moriarty. “I don’t have any more lecturers today either.”

“Okay,” said Steve.

“Here sit, it’s better if we keep ourselves somewhat out of sight.”

“Oh yes, of course,” said Steve.

They sat in two large Adirondack chairs.

Moriarty produce a lighter from somewhere, lighting Steve’s joint before his own.

They sat and took drags on each of their joints.

“It’s nice here,” said Steve.

“It’s nice that you are here.”

“Nice that I am here?” questioned Steve.

“Yes, it’s nice to have a young man here at my place.”

“But you must spend your whole life with young men. Don’t you?”

“Yes, well, of course I do, that is true. I do spend my life in the company of young men and women. That is my job.”

Stev dragged on his joint, and exhale a cloud of smoke. “So, then, why me?” said Steve.

Moriarty dragged on his joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke too. “You’re very handsome. Do you mind me saying that.”

“No,” said Steve.

“And I think you are smart.”

“I hope so,” said Steve. The pot was hitting him, he already started to feel kind of stoned.

“I think you are. I think you will do well.”

“I want to do well.”

“With, or without, my help,” said Moriarty.

“Your help?” questioned Steve.

Moriarty puffed on his joint once more. “Well, you know, it is my job to help my students.”

Steve exhaled a cloud of smoke. He coughed. He coughed again.

“Would you like some water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I have a gay friend…”

“A gay friend?” asked Steve.

“Malcolm and I have been, friends for many years.”

“An old friend?”

“Yes. He says if you don’t cough, you don’t get off.”

“That’s funny,” said Steve.

“And we all want to get off,” said Moriarty. He laughed, as though the laugh nullified what he’d just said into some sort of harmless quip.

Stever was feeling quite stone by this point and was feeling kind of turned on by his respected lecturer’s attention. Was he flirting with me, thought Steve? The thought that such a well respected lecturer would think Steve was sexy enough in which to be interested, in a way turned Steve on. It was nice to be thought of as attractive. The pot was making him feel attractive. Probably worse, the pot was making him horny.

“I should get us some drinks. What would you like?”

“Oh, um…”

“Look at you,” said Moriarty. I knew those beautiful blue eyes would be even more enchanting stoned.”

“You think I have beautiful blue eyes,” said Steve.

“Oh, you must have heard that before, surely?”

“Um,” said Steve.

“With those eyes?”

“Maybe,” said Steve.

“Surely, Gavin has told you that?”

“Yes, he has.”

“When he is looking into them.”

“Yes,” said Steve.

“So, drinks?”

“Um? Er?”

Moriarty laughed. “Well, would you care fore, um, just water? Or would you like some coffee? Or tea. I can do tea? Or would you like a beer, or a wine? I have both. I’m thinking coffee.”

“Yes, I would like coffee too,” slurred Steve.

“Here, have another joint while I get the coffee.”

“Oh sir, I believe you are trying to get me stoned.

“Oh yes, I am,” said Moriarty. “I didn’t think it was a secret. But don’t let it frighten you. You are perfectly safe.”

Steve took another joint from the box. So did Moriarty. He lit Steve’s first again, then his. After that, he disappeared through another door, on the opposite wall.

Steve sat back in his Adirondack chair and puffed on his joint. He kind of liked to feeling of being special boy to the teacher, as stupid as that may sound, but it was true. It took him back years to when it had happened before, in high school and he liked it then, and it bought back those memories now. He puffed on the joint some more. Yeah, sure, okay, it made him feel horny. Pot made him feel horny. Here he was in his 

“Well, I just get the feeling you are open and receptive to new experiences,” said Moriarty. “Just from my interactions with you.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” asked Steve.

“You see, you are open to new experiences, like I said,” said Moriarty. “But no, I don’t want to have sex with you, as such.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “As such?”

“No,” said Moriarty.

“But there has to be a motive here, surely?”

“Oh well yes. Yes, there is a motive. Yes there is.”

Moriarty picked up the joint box, flipping it open he offered Stever another joint. Steve took another joints, as did Moriarty. He lit Steve’s joint first again, before he lit his own.

They both sat and smoked their joints.

“Okay, let’s hear it,” said Steve

“Let’s hear it?” repeated Moriarty.

“The yet undisclosed motive.”

“You and Gavin are, um, very good looking.”

“And?” said Steve.

They held each other’s gaze.

“Well?” said Steve.

“Um.”

“Let’s have it.”

“Um, er.” Moriarty looked away. “I want to watch.”

“You want to watch?”

“You and Gavin.”

“Oh. Okay.” Said Steve.

“I like the idea of watching.”

There was silence. Then Steve said. “Oh. Okay.”

Moriarty offered them cocaine, even the use of his MX5 sports car “for er, um, a double act,” as he put it. 

“A double act?” said Steve.

“Yes.”

“The two of us?”

“I could help with university marks. You would have to pass, I can’t pass you if you fail. But if you pass, I can make it so you pass well, if you pass well, I can make it so you did even better. If you get a distinction, I could easily change that to a HD.”

“We’d perform for you?”

"Let me watch and I promise you both a HD, if you get anywhere near it," said Jim breathlessly. "You're both smart boys, you going to score well anyway. But a HD is good to have."

Steve came from a poor, rural family, everything he got he got by going out and grabbing it. He'd smoked too much of the professor's gunga. He was a bit cross-eyed.

Steve spoke to Gavin. Gave him the low down. Gavin was drawn in because Steve was into it.

Fake open fire and animal skins, dim lighting, ethereal decadence. Music. Candles burned, incense perfumed the dark, shadowy world of life in the sky. Trance music fill the air, like drums played like heart beats, a message from afar.

"HD. You just watch. No touching?"

"Oh, my dear no, I only every wanted to watch."

"You promise?" asked Gavin, his voice thick and claggy."

"You have my word," he said. “I’ll just watch from the shadows.”

Moriarty stepped into the shadows.

The drugs the two boys had loaded up on were already hitting them.

Gavin looked over at his out-of-it boyfriend, then looked back at the professor. Gavin snorted through his nose and looked angry, momentarily wild.

Steve lay back against the couch. Gavin reached for the waistband of Steve's 501s. He undid the buttons deftly. Steve objected when Gavin's hand slid into his jocks. Gavin pushed Steve firmly back against the couch and pulled his jocks down to his thick, hairy thighs. Gavin took Steve's soft cock between his lips. Steve moaned. It stiffened up as Gavin sucked it. Steve objected again, weakly. Gavin held Steve's arm firmly. "Just lay back," Gavin whispered, sternly.

"Oh yes," whispered the prof, sounding like Monty Burns. "Very nice. Excellent."

Once he’d sucked his boyfriend up nice and impressively hard, Gavin got on all fours and Steve penetrated him doggy style. Steve fucked him just like that until Gavin shot his load all over the professor’s carpet, moaning and spasming and Steve shot his load deep in Gavin’s arse.

High up in lecturer, Jim's, Docklands apartment, where he just liked to watch, you know. He never did touch. Two gorgeous boys, bookends of blond and brunette, which kept the hormonal elderly lecturer beguiled, until the day he retired, unexpectedly, to his shack, on the surf beach, down the aisle.

The two days, curiously, coincided. Videos he'd made, which even Gavin and Steve didn't know about, were returned with property from a robbery at the apartment and promptly handed to the police. There was talk of an investigation by the University, which never eventuated.

Steve told Constable Ben Wallace that he and Gavin modelled willingly for the films, even though he actually knew nothing about them. The young studly blond Constable Ben Wallace sent to question Steve about the films, ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in Steve’s bed with Steve.

"I've never married," said Professor Jim Moriarty, professor of ethics. "I have no one to leave anything to."

“No one?” asked Steve.

“No.”

“No one in the world?” said Steve.

“No one I care about.”

“Well, really.”

“I like the idea of you as my son.”

“Why me?” asked Steve.

“You remind me of someone from long ago.”

“I do?”

“It is quite uncanny.”

Saturday Night With My Guy

Manny gave me a disclaimer before I kissed him, saying he'd had a stomach bug all week and he apologised after I'd stopped kissing him, just in case he'd given it to me.

I hadn't spoken to him all week, so I went straight to his place, without calling, after I had visited Lottie, in the morning.

When I got there he was practising his music. You see, if I had called he wouldn't have answered the phone, because of it. He was trying to tell me off for the lack of communication, as soon as I walked in the door, but he was smiling too much, as he said it, so I could tell he was pleased that I was there.
I like him being my boy. I like that look on his face, whenever I see him, that tells me he is mine.
Not enough, he said. You know how to use a phone, I know that much.

I stepped forward and kissed him and he stopped talking. I sucked his bottom lip in between mine, let go and then licked his top lip. His kissed me back so tenderly I knew I was forgiven.
We cuddled on the couch watching TV shows Manny had taped until late.

I came home, around midnight, to Shane and Matt and my step-daughter Jane. We watched The Ritz, which most of us can recite line by line and the John Water's film, Pecker.
Jane just walked out the front door to catch a taxi in the street. She said she'd come back if she struck out, which was not likely.

3am'ish, I was woken up by Shane and Matt going to bed saying, "Jane must have caught her taxi."

Friday Night Live

There were end of financial year drinks, from 4pm. I read in the paper, at lunch time, that a hit and run driver had drunk four stubbies in the first hour, which I didn't think sounded like that much. I drank four stubbies in the first hour and I was putrid.

Mark and Luke were at home when I got home. They'd come down to the city, to watch Big Brother with us, because they had nothing on for the weekend.

Luke got into rolling. We ordered Indian. The open fire burned all night.

By eleven I was maggotted, pissed and stoned. I woke up with the television in my room on some American religious program, in the wee hours. I hate that! They should be banned.

Is this as good as it gets, I chuckled to myself, as I staggered off to bed, time unknown. Tired, stoned, dark, stairs, I tripped on a few, but managed to stay upright for enough of the performance.

 

Cold Morning

Joey's noona stood next to me at the tram stop in Gertrude Street.

"No gloves," she said, incredulously. "No gloves?" She raised her hands in the air as if they were a question mark.

She poked me in the arm, as if to make more of a point. Being so short, I guess, she had to make her point any way she could.

"No," I said. "I don't wear gloves.”

She rapped her arms around herself as if to hug. "Brrrrrr. You crrizy."

"I don't own gloves," I said, which isn't strictly true. I have several pairs of vintage, leather gloves from my father and grandfather, handed down to me, none of which I wear.

"I knit you some," she said. “If my Giuseppe wore gloves, 'ed be aloyve todeye.”

"No, no, no..." I started to say.

"For you," she said. "No problem. You noice boy, you keep warm." She rubbed her hands on her arms.

"But I don't wear gloves," I said.

"You wear my gloves," she said. She smiled, encouragingly. "For me," she said. "You wear them for me."

 

Living In The Cross Fire

Shane is onto Tom about him setting Mark W. up with Kim.

I probably haven't spoken too much about Kim, as I haven't seen much of him lately, but he has a whole inter-connected history within my group of friends. Let's just say that when we all experimented with recreational drugs, put them in their proper place and moved on with our lives, Kim took to them more enthusiastically and more permanently than the rest of us. He's lost the love of his life because of them. Well, it was his choices. Most of the guys he's had since have been little more than tweaked out fuck buddies.

Tom and he have had a weird slightly-twisted-never-really-eventuating relationship and a history of messing with each other's lives.

But I digress...

Shane was looking a little bunnies in the head lights, as he told me what he knew of the Mark W/Kim saga. He had the full picture, although he hadn't quite joined all the dots. Tom had told me that he was setting Mark W and Kim up, because he thought they would be good for each other. Two of his favourite people, single and alone. So, I had to be careful of what I said to Shane.

"Kim and Mark... and Tom," said Shane. "That's four days out partying for Mark, around Wesley's birthday long weekend. No wonder Mark hasn't been to work much this week."

"Poor Mark, hasn't he been well?" I ask.

"Poor Mark? Poor Mark! Poor fucking Mark chooses to go out partying for four, maybe five days in a row and then he falls a part afterwards and spends half the week on the phone to me wanting support," said Shane. "And now I find out some how Tom is involved."

"You know, I'm not sure if Tom said that the three of them were out together the Sunday after Wesley's birthday." I was back peddling. I had quite unthinkingly given Shane that information. I spoke without thinking, a few days ago, I was distracted, it just slipped out.

"The last thing that Mark needs right now is some junkie playing with his mind," said Shane. "What does Tom have to do with this?"

I shrugged. Tom was doing it for his own amusement. Putting Mark W. and Kim together would give Tom a greater power base from which to operate. I said nothing.

"Why is it that every time I look around Tom is meddling in my life?" said Shane. "Why does he want to?" I thought, for a moment, Shane had tears in his eyes.

"I think he's bored." I felt immediately disloyal to Tom after I'd said it, but it was probably the truth.

Sexy Footballer Ben

Can you imagine how sexy Ben C would have looked drugged off his mind? Crystaled with a hard on. Yum!

He looked good in training. Back playing this weekend. Welcome back Ben.

Okay, yeah, sure I probably shouldn't be saying that, I guess. It is just a gay way of saying he's hot. 

Crisp and Clean

I changed my sheets. How much of a grot am I? The cleaner made my bed. She put the doona the wrong way up, you should have seen the state of it. I blushed.

I reckon I change my sheets every few months. Tom says that's disgusting. I say that mostly it's only me, with the odd wog boy pubic hair, who slumbers in between them. And I certainly would object to my bed smelling of Manny.

So, I was stoned struggling at midnight, balancing precariously on my mattress trying to get the cover to fall down over the damn thing, cursing the whole time when it wouldn't. But eventually it did and I didn't die, as I suspected I might. Now, I have my sixties spots doona cover. Many shades of green, which, somehow, goes with my Edwardian décor. Good design goes with any thing. It's a happy doona cover, it makes me smile whenever I walk into my room.

So how often, is often enough to change your sheets?

C.B.D. Shooting

He's pretty cute, really. I guess the guys inside will be loving him, pretty soon.
It's a high profile murder and attempted murder, I guess he'll be getting the maximum.

I wonder how he feels about sex with men?

The initiation - late one night in his cell, taken by surprise, held down by Chopper and Lefty... getting shown as much compassion as he showed that lawyer, the back packer and the girl now minus a kidney.

"You're going to be our bitch, pretty boy, if you want to survive," says Killer, as he undoes his belt.

Our boy, Christopher, struggles, but is over powered. No one comes to his cries of help, as they grab him by the hair.

Lonely Tom

Tom complained that we all have hot boyfriends and he can't even crack it for a plain one. He sounded sad, when he said it.

"You've got Manny, David's got Mark and... and Shane has, um, er Matt (Tom gives himself away for having meddled in Shane's relationship with Mark W., when he says it that way. I don't think he realises he does it) And I've got no one."

We've all agreed that our Mark quota is full. All three of us have one.

I think what Tom was really saying was that he was missing coming around and hanging with me, Shane and David, like he always has, albeit never living together before, because he knows he has fucked it up so badly with Shane...

It only dawned on me the other day why Tom hasn't been around, because of he and Shane. I'm usually Tom's staunchest ally, but I know he acted reprehensibly by getting in Mark W.'s ear. Yes, yes, Tom we could all see that Shane and Mark W. were on the rocks. No, that certainly doesn't give you free licence to act as relationship counsellor.

"I'm only trying to help," said Tom the last time I saw him.

No, I wouldn't say that Tom was only trying to help himself, because it's not deliberate, but when it comes out looking like he has, you'd be forgiven for think it so.

Tom is the devil incarnate, as far as Matt is concerned. Mark W. is the enemy. Perry is a fuck whit. It's funny seeing such an obvious crack appear in my friendship base, it's interesting to see a new perspective on it all.

"I know one thing," said Shane. "I so wish Tom would get a fucking life, so he could start leaving mine alone."

Tom's in Queensland and Sydney, this week, chasing the sun.

Where Am I? (Anna)

Anna woke to bright sunlight in her eyes, the bed was soft, she felt numb. There was humming in her ears. She didn't know where she was, momentarily, it all looked hazy and unfamiliar. She blinked her eyes a few times and the haze cleared somewhat. She was in her own bed. She giggled under her breath.

"Ahh! Ahh!" was the soft moan, barely audible. Maybe kissing, lip noises.

She rolled over and looked side ways to see Ethan and Christopher kissing.

Ethan's bare, thick, hairy legs. Christopher was sniffing him. Ethan was in briefs with a T-shirt. Christopher was shirtless.

She could see Ethan's hardness in his jocks. "Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah!" Ethan said, as Christopher touched his face. He obviously enjoyed it.

She closed her eyes tight. Soft ambient music played. She wanted to drift off again, she felt safe and warm.

"Ah yes. Kiss me again," said Christopher

"That feels good," said Ethan, breathlessly.

Anna remembered dancing on the dance floor with Christopher & Ethan - her two handsome men she liked to pretend. They were her best mates. The three of them were best mates. Well, more than best mates. She didn't remember anything after that. It was all a blank. She's had an awful lot to drink, she remembered that much. Ethan had given her a pill. Or was that Christopher?

(In reality, one of the boys had to carry her home)

She got up on one arm and her head throbbed. "Oooo," she said.

"No, no!" Ethan whispered. "Don't stop!"

"Anna's awake," said Christopher. He squeezed Ethan's arm.

"Is she?" slurred Ethan. He looked over to her and patted the bed next to him.

Anna groan again. She could feel her mouth go dry, as she tried to speak.

"Kiss him," said Anna.

"Okay!" said Christopher. He nuzzled Ethan's ear with his nose.

"Ah, ah, ah," said Ethan. Christopher put his mouth over Ethan's.

"You know he's straight?" said Anna.

"Ahh!!! moaned Christopher, kind of muffled with his mouth over Ethan's. "Is he?"

"So are you?"

"Yes," said Christopher.

She watched the two boys kiss tentatively.

"He's got nice lips, they are soft," said Anna.

"They are," said Christopher.

"I like kissing him the best," said Anna. "He tastes the sweet."

The two boys looked at her and smiled, crookedly. Out of it. Anna wanted to laugh.

"I've got to piss," she said.

Anna got up and went to the toilet. She didn't want to leave, but her bladder ached. She squatted on the toilet, the seat was cold. A chill ran up her spine. It felt good to be expressing the ache in her abdomen. It was a relief, as her tension ran out of her snatch.

When she got back, Ethan and Christopher were sitting side by side on the bed, Ethan dressed in track suit pants. He looked concerned. Serious. Christopher looked out of it.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she wailed, as she slipped between the two of them. "You two looked so cute to...

"Are you..." started Ethan.

"Don't say it," said Christopher.

She took their hands in each of hers - they were big and warm. She felt so close to the both of them, as she held their hands. It felt so intimate, she could have cried. She looked sideways at Ethan, he looked straight ahead. She looked at Christopher, he smiled wanly.

"Pull the doona up," she instructed.

The two boys cuddled into her on either side and they all fell asleep.

Daisy Cow

It's All Over Now Brown Cow

I feel wrecked, alarmingly so. Every time I stand up I get bad head spins. Every thing seems to hurt. I can't believe it is already Monday, just about, I groan at that idea.

Apparently, I got really out of it in the end, for the last, oh shall we say, few hours. (nervous smile) Tom filled me in, with glee. I have to conclude that a club/dancing regimen is too strong for a lounge room get together. And then people were still giving me pills. Couldn't they see what state I was in? Were they mad?

Tom even did. I remembered that.

"Oh, I just wanted to see if you could get any messier than you already were. And you did. Perry gave you one just because he was giving everybody one."

So two over my prescribed number, any fucken wonder I was a space cadet.

"Nothing awful happened," said Tom. "You didn't play with yourself in front of everyone, nor did you hit on anyone, you know, sleazily."

"Well, I'm glad about that." Not having considered that I would have done either of those things, until then. "And R @ S had it out, which kind of took the heat off you nicely." R @ S have deep seated animosity, going back years.

"I didn't hear any of that." And I didn't.

"It was in the front room," said Tom. "But they were still going each other, animatedly." Tom dropped his voice a little. "They both just got angry and left, pretty much soon after that."

"I think I wanted to leave for the previous few hours before I did," I said. "But I couldn't get it together to do so." That was the best I could do. I had twelve hours of party and seven hours worth of memories.

"I know how that feels," said Tom.

"So R & S, hey?" I said

"After R avoiding S, skilfully, for the first half of the evening, S then hugged R from behind, waiting an inordinate amount of time before speaking. Aren't you going to say hello to me?"

"Oh, that's just creepy," I said. "With their history."

"Upon hearing S's voice, realising he was being hugged by the devil, herself, R exploded. At one point I was ready to dive in between them, because I really thought R was going to hit her."

"Oh great," I said. "I always miss the good stuff."

"Well, it made any thing you did," said Tom. "Look kind of charming, in comparison."

And, apparently, Warren was in the other front room letting the two bears touch his hard on. Apparently, one of the bears boasted about the smell of Warren's foreskin on his fingers, as he left. So there you go. I was too out of it and missed all of it.

Fitzroy All Silver And Gold

And the Sun Also Rises

It's raining. The skies have opened up to wash all of our pain away. I love days-after like these. Colour set to brittle, as the fire burns as the rain falls.

The fire was still burning from mine and David's 4am soiree. Yeah for open fires. I worked out what day it was and promptly cancelled the cleaner. I guess that's not so terribly fair, but I'm the boss and it's my house.

David came striding out, dressed ready to leave, like he was a man on a mission. Tony left at 6am to go to work. David was off to Wet on Wellington. Once they get the taste for it and a nose full of drugs... insatiable!

David wore a T-shirt with Jesus Christ on the front, with his chaps to Woof Club. Halfway through the night he was wearing it in his back pocket, when he felt water running down his leg. He'd just been in the toilet blowing the boy on a promise for months, Tony.

"I baptised Jesus in a poofter dunny while I was blowing the boy who I most liked, at that moment," said David. He was smiling broadly.

Shane hasn't appeared since Saturday night. He'll be at Matt's.

Missy is lying on my bare feet keeping them warm. There is something quite sensuous about animal fur. I'm getting quite turned on.

There is silence, except for the crackle of the wood as it burns in the fire place and the clack of the keyboard keys as I push down on them.

I don't half feel like shit, though. Like a train wreck. I think, for the rest of the day, I should be referred to as Kerang. Well, that's the noise you're left with after everything has stopped working, anyway.