Coda Josh Grant

I went jogging in the cold morning air, the punters were already manoeuvring their cars and getting on and off trams. My legs were cold, my thighs were red. The streets were busy, the light melancholy. Thud thud, thud, sounded my feet on the foot path. A cool breeze rushed up the loose legs of my shorts. I find it sexy, but you can't jog with a hardon, no sir! It made me feel like a man, though. Thud, thud thud, sounded my feet in those empty chasms that are the early morning CBD streets, office in sight. I take a shower, hoping to cop sight of Marco. Truthfully, Marco was the furthest thing from my mind, it is only now sitting back here late at night writing about it, sure Marco was there, in nothing but a towel.

It was a cold day. I lit a fire in the open fire place in my room and stayed in bed. I drank coffee and ate baked beans. I didn't leave the house. I smoked pot and whacked off all day. Chubby kept me company. Daniel laughed when he got home late and told me I looked like a stoner from hell, as I staggered into the kitchen in my dressing gown to say g'day. He rolled his eyes and said he wants my life.

Never stop stopping, that’s what they say, never stop stopping. Never stop stopping. Never stop until you stop. You have to keep stopping, never stop, never stop, never stop. Sensible words, er, thoughts, when the cold, hard reality of day settles in and you open your eyes fully and the light is bright, and white and clear. These are Monday morning thoughts, to be sure. You know, when you regret all the things you did that make you feel the way you are felling Monday morning. “I’m never doing that again,” you think. I think. And even as I think it, I know it’s not true, but is comfort words, for the aches and pains and wheezes. Matthew limped out the door early with a big smile on his face. He said he needed some pain killers, yes sir, but he’d be ready to do it all again, you know, as soon as everything healed, I think were his exact words. Big smile, and he was gone.

The apocalypse didn't happen, I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to a great end of the world. You know, was it exciting? In technicolour? Was it like seeing the Northern Lights, all lit up?  Was it going to hurt? Was there a big bang, like at the beginning? Or would it be like ‘fat Man?” Could we all get really out of it and whoop and holler, as everything crumbled and fell to pieces? Anyway… Apparently, it's now October 21st. Something to look forward to, hey?

I puffed away first thing, I didn't even bother to get out of my robe. I kind of clutched it to my chest at the kitchen bench. Daniel said I couldn't start the day off with the last cigarette, it just doesn't work that way.  “Start the day?” I laughed. I looked at my watch. It was well into the afternoon. “Yeah, well,” said Daniel. “Wherever you are coming at it from.” “We can only smoke it once, you know.” “My once, not yours.” What does he know? I think. Oh yes, he's a doctor. “You piss off the owner of the cigarette and he kills you.” “Are you saying this is your cigarette?” “My cigarette,” said Daniel. “What are you on?” “Oh, don’t ask,” I said. My head wasn’t all together on straight. “Jesus,” said Daniel. “That doesn’t sound great.” “Oh, settle down, grandma, it was just a couple of pills.” “A couple.” “Three,” I said. “Three?” “Yeah,” I said. “And now I need this cigarette.” “And Matthew? Did you lose him?” “No, he’s unconscious in bed.” “Not expecting to see him...

Matthew and I got really wasted last night. Of course, that's just the build up to when we get home. We got pills from Yvonne, kind of unexpectedly, so we got 3 each. We took all three. Fuck me, we were high. Beau was there, looking like the gayest straight boy ever, as only he can, with his silk shirt unbuttoned to his navel, with his tits out on show. I think I might have come onto him just a bit much, I might have squeezed his nipple, which went hard quick. Matthew said afterwards, “He really didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s what I reckon.” “He was into it, if anything.” Matthew and I danced like men possessed. We got home late. We fell into bed. We kissed in each other’s arms. Matthew is a big, strong lad.  Pretty soon I had him on his stomach with his jeans around his ankles. I licked his arse and sucked his fat cock for hours, I got kind of single-minded about it. He didn't mind, of course. He just rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms and legs out and just let me...

I started smoking again. Ah, what are you gonna do? I roll the joints and kick back. I don’t know why I ever try to stop? And, of course, Matthew smokes too. That handsome guy, with his blue eyes, bloodshot and smiling.   I take on look at him and his gorgeous face all flushed and I think, what have I done to this sweet guy. Turned him into a pot pig. He’s taken to it like a duck takes to water, of a monkey takes to the trees.  He smiles all wonky at me. “I’m a bad boy,” I say. I can’t say that around Matthew, “I’m a bad boy.” It gets him going.  I roll more joints, because once I start, I find it hard to stop, which may give you an inkling of why, in fact, I do stop.  And Matthew disappears. The next time I look around he is in a dog choker and tight leather shorts, not even zipped up, that's how keen it makes him. Big muscly puppy, on all fours, with his cotton tail wriggling. He whimpers at the door, his head around the door frame, on all fours. Pot brings out the...

I quit, after a weekend of smoking pot, too. Matt and I got on the choof. We didn’t mean to. It all started with Jumbo doing deliveries, so we said yes. How long had it been? I’m taking that boy down the road to ruin, I’m already guilty of sending that boy to uni stoned. I tasted like a ruin. I couldn’t face one this morning because of it. I'm a good boy.

Matthew came over Friday night and stayed the weekend, we had the house to ourselves. Time for a quiet, healthy weekend. We went jogging Friday night, past all the tourists in Lygon Street, Saturday morning and Sunday morning. I like slapping Matthew’s arse in his jogging shorts.  “Hey,” he says in mock protest. He pretends he doesn't like his arse smacked, but let me tell you, he loves his arse smacked. Then he smiles. Matthew cooked. I made a flourless chocolate cake and raspberry muffins. We got dvds and a bag of pot. We drank coffee, ate, smoked and laughed. Ah, good times.

I got up early and headed to the gym. When I say I got up early, you understand that means 6am. I was at work by 9am.  I put on my favourite tight t-shirt, it feels good hugging my chest and it feels good across my stomach. I put on my old running shorts, the ones I know are wide in the legs, the ones I know show off my jocks well when I sit down. I put on my sexy red jocks. I wanted to be dirty. I wanted to be sexy. I wanted to see who'd be looking at the bulge in my jocks.  There were a few guys in the gym, not many though. They were all head down and working. I sat on a bench and did weights, spread my legs and my jocks bulged out the right leg of my blue shorts. I've got a big dick and great legs. My bulge was big and dirty. I felt sexy. I love that feeling, cock to the wind, bulging out, watching for the eyes, watching for the eyes to drop, even if it's only momentarily, catching them perving, catching them.  Makes me feel alive. There was one sexy guy, no shirt, loo...

There was one sexy guy, no shirt, loose shorts, cream jocks, hugging his hot arse, around his thick, hairy thighs. He had a nice bulge when he lay on the floor and did sit ups. Good grunt as he pumped his weights. He kind of snorted, as he heaved and the sweat dripped from his face, drip by drip from his chin. I watched his stomach muscles contract as he lifted his chest off the floor. I love that shorts waistband look on taught skin, it is sexy. There were a couple of boyfriends training together, well, that's what I reckon they were. I guess if they were a couple of straight mates they may have been, um surprised. And there was an effeminate little queen mincing around the training room who's eye I had caught. He was gazing over at me with doleful eyes, some time staring at me in the mirrors, as he lifted weights. Not my type, really not. I don't go for girlie twinks. I had to go take a dump, half way through. When I came out of the cubicle the little girlie bitch was loi...