Running with George

George and I went running. He was wearing a pair of footy shorts.

"How am I supposed to concentrate with you wearing them?"

He did a twirl, well, a spin, smiling. “Do you like them?”

Sexy, thick, hairy thighs, a round arse and the nicest bulge, it didn't hurt that the shorts were a little small on him.

“Did you have them painted on?”

He looked down at his bulge because that's where I was looking. We both looked up, he smiled.

“Makes it look more than a handful, don’t you think?”

He grabbed it in his hand and squeezed.

"When are you going to let me play with that?"

He laughed and started running. "You can, if you can catch me."


George told me that Sophie was happy that I knew and even happier because I didn't judge them. She said it was a relief and while she didn't kid herself that everyone would react like I did, she was pleased that their first reaction was positive.


We ran down to the Yarra and then all the way along to Punt Road bridge. I was fucked. George is big and strong. We ran back through the gardens and past the MCG. I tried to walk some of the way, but George wouldn't quit.

"Come on you big poof, keep up."

"Fuck George, I'm..."

"If you want to play with it... come on."

I kept running, of course, that's all we did, run.