Coda Josh Grant

On the tram some mornings heading into town, you know those mornings I am too lazy to walk, or those mornings Daniel has spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom and kept me waiting, me waiting, shifting my weight from one foot to the other complaining about his beauty routine, outside the bathroom door, I am like a new puppy barely with its eyes open.  And, you know, it is really easy for my eyes to come to rest of some guy’s crotch in tight suit pants even before I realise I am even doing it.  Easy. Then, suddenly he crosses his legs, or his hand slides over the bulge in the black wool mix material. Oops. And I look up. The guy is looking at me, looking at him, looking at me, having just looked at me, looking at his, er, bits.  I look away, out the tram window closest to me, like that doesn’t make it obvious. I don’t look back. Maybe briefly if he is still on the tram when I get off. Momentarily.  You’d hate him to say anything in the middle of a crowded ...

Nick, Bruno, Mike and I went out drinking. Nick and Mike caught a taxi back to Nick’s. Bruno and I walked to my place, Murray was away, interstate. Bruno was loud and drunk, drunker than I realised. Funny though, maybe the residents in Carlton may have thought differently. He crashed into bed next to me, he said he was too smashed to contemplate even a taxi to get home. He had on a pair of green wide sided jocks, which he looked sexy in. Sculptured chest, flat stomach disappearing under the green material which bulged out noticeable. Its sexy, that part of a man between his bellybutton and the elastic of his jocks. When he started to snore loudly in my ear, I slid my hand over the bulge in his jocks and felt his squishy bits. It felt good. I thought it would stop him snoring, you know, make him move. But, he groaned and spread his legs, just like that, compliantly. Always a bottom, I guess, even in sleep. I slid my hand away, as it wasn’t really the response I was looking for. He's...