This Morning
Tommy had on a pair of white jogging shorts, he was doing stretches on his front fence when I headed out for a run myself. They were tight across his sexy arse and looked like they were struggling to keep his big bulge covered.
"They're a bit tight, aren't they?" I called over to him.
He looked up suddenly, looked down at his shorts then looked back at me and smiled.
"Well, they got your attention, didn't they?" He laughed. "Actually, mum and dad have been OS for nearly a month now and I've got no clean clothes left."
He looked back down at the front of his shorts, then looked back up at me again. "They're an old school pair. I thought I'd get away with them."
"Oh yeah... you pull it off, okay."
We were now face to face in the middle of the street and Tommy blushed, as I looked up from the bulge in the white material. "You'll get a lot of attention in them that's for sure."
"Coming running?" Big smile.
“Sure.”
Our feet made slap, slap, slap noises on the concrete, as we both tried to beat the other. We ran up Elgin, to Swanston, zig zagging through all the uni kids with their bags and their friendship.
"Shouldn't you be with them?" I panted.
"Day off." Tommy swallowed. "I have Tuesdays off."
We ran up Queensberry to The Exhibition Gardens, under the elm trees, by the flower beds, past the lovers’ hand in hand, around the dog walkers with their dogs on those stretchy leads. A dachshund barked at us momentarily. We ran between the Exhibition Buildings and the museum, old and new. I love that space in between, it's huge and timeless, you feel like an ant next to those two, great buildings. The proportions of the square are wonderful. The canopy overhead like a giant hanger.
We ran down Gertrude Street like express trains, having shaken off the beauty of the gardens, now we meant business. Down Gore Street, with its grand houses, to Johnson Street. My lungs were burning, my thighs were too, but I wasn’t going to be the first one to want to stop. We fell into sync back to Carlton, our feet hitting the footpath at the same time.
We panted outside our houses, in the street, holding our knees with our hands, sneaking looks at each other.
I was fucked. That’s what you get for trying to race an eighteen year old.
"They're a bit tight, aren't they?" I called over to him.
He looked up suddenly, looked down at his shorts then looked back at me and smiled.
"Well, they got your attention, didn't they?" He laughed. "Actually, mum and dad have been OS for nearly a month now and I've got no clean clothes left."
He looked back down at the front of his shorts, then looked back up at me again. "They're an old school pair. I thought I'd get away with them."
"Oh yeah... you pull it off, okay."
We were now face to face in the middle of the street and Tommy blushed, as I looked up from the bulge in the white material. "You'll get a lot of attention in them that's for sure."
"Coming running?" Big smile.
“Sure.”
Our feet made slap, slap, slap noises on the concrete, as we both tried to beat the other. We ran up Elgin, to Swanston, zig zagging through all the uni kids with their bags and their friendship.
"Shouldn't you be with them?" I panted.
"Day off." Tommy swallowed. "I have Tuesdays off."
We ran up Queensberry to The Exhibition Gardens, under the elm trees, by the flower beds, past the lovers’ hand in hand, around the dog walkers with their dogs on those stretchy leads. A dachshund barked at us momentarily. We ran between the Exhibition Buildings and the museum, old and new. I love that space in between, it's huge and timeless, you feel like an ant next to those two, great buildings. The proportions of the square are wonderful. The canopy overhead like a giant hanger.
We ran down Gertrude Street like express trains, having shaken off the beauty of the gardens, now we meant business. Down Gore Street, with its grand houses, to Johnson Street. My lungs were burning, my thighs were too, but I wasn’t going to be the first one to want to stop. We fell into sync back to Carlton, our feet hitting the footpath at the same time.
We panted outside our houses, in the street, holding our knees with our hands, sneaking looks at each other.
I was fucked. That’s what you get for trying to race an eighteen year old.
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