Coda Josh Grant

Will Henry was in the toilets at 5.30pm. I was at the sink washing my hands. He took off his shirt. “Here hold this.” He handed me his shirt. He took off his pants and handed them to me. And there he was standing in front of me in his white jocks. He was sun tanned, not at all sure if it was a real sun tan, and bulging. I looked. It was hard not to look. He pulled on a pair of really low riding camouflage pants. He put on a sleeveless jacket. “What do you think?” Will said. “I liked you better with less on.” “Oh, shut up,” said Will. He painted war paint on his face. He turned and said to me, with a shrug. “It’s just a bit of fun.” “How did you learn to do that?” I asked. “Sisters.” He ran his hand down his bare chest and over his bulge, momentarily grabbing on. “Good,” he said.  “All there?” I said. I couldn’t help myself. He laughed. He squeezed his bulge again. “All there.” He turned to look at himself in the mirror. He nodded approvingly at himself. EOFY party tonight, everyone...

The Italian woman, at my local milk bar, flirts with me. There's no doubt about it – those eyes, that mouth, the way she runs her tongue around her teeth, or her hand across her neck, or the way she adjusts her skirt. Something. She's got an older husband, maybe twenty years, and two younger boys. She smiles at me, in that way that isn't just about the milk I'm buying. She caress' her breasts absentmindedly. Well, not really, but I've noticed, just lately, that her hand is always somewhere around her chest. Today she caressed my hand, as she gave me the change. I kind of jerked it away, instinctively. Clearly, we're not supposed to touch now a days, is what I'm thinking. Then she kind of smiled. I laughed nervously. And we paused, momentarily. It was a very weird energy. Sometimes, even as her husband is greeting me, she's making eyes at me. Raises her eyebrows, creases forehead, widens her eyes, that mouth thing. She runs the back of her hand under ...

Kinsey said that any given point in time, he estimated that approx. 10% of the population is gay. Ever since the Jesus freaks have been trying to get that percentage down to 1%. You see, if there are less people then the world doesn't have to make such a great allowance for them, there fore the God botherers myths are relatively of greater importance. But, what they are trying to prove is that there are more straight boys. What they fail to grasp is that a huge percentage of the hetro male population engage in gay sex. All men do gay sex, not less, babes. Men are capable of having sex with anybody, and do. They just don't talk about it quite as much. I think Kinsey's estimate is, actually, low. 10% are gay, and another 10% gets it on with the same sex regularly. Another 10% will do it on drugs, and enjoy it. Another 10% will stray less often, but stray none the less. I’m already at 40%. I think that is far more likely.

Red Trunks

Kurt had been out all night when he knocked on my door this morning at 5am. He was really out of it, with a crooked smile on his face. He’d been out dancing. I threw him on the bed face down and torn his pants off him, over his sexy mounds of flesh. I licked his sexy hole, diving right in with full intensity. God, he's got a tasty little shitter! All smooth and velvety. And those mounds of flesh that make up his sexy arse, split just right for me to slide my face into him, inside him, that's what it feels like, all the way in. I just licked and licked and licked, until he squirmed up onto his knees and pulled his hard cock. He moans just right too; give me, give me, give me, until he slid his dripping wet spilt beaver hard into my face and jerk and spasmed, groaning out loud until he blew his load all over my sheets. "Thanks, I needed that," he said. He rolled over and his sticky cum was stuck to him all over his stomach. He slid his spoof covered knob into my mouth a...

I quit smoking. Oh, the pain. Nobody ever said it would be painful. You know physically. Sometimes that need is indistinguishable. An ache. Oh, you’ve just got to jump right back on that horse. It’s not the falling off that is important, but how many times you get back on the damn horse.

I thought this was a family site, commented one of the punters. Seriously? What on this earth made him think that?... How much of this site did you read? It's funny how just because the government uses the "family" platform to increase their votes, and just because marketers use the "family" platform to increase their sales, with, or without, actually giving a damn about families and the general public, the great unwashed are hoodwinked, and somehow, they think that the world is family orientated. It almost borders on arrogance. No, really. “Mind me family values, will ya luv.” “We do it for the kiddies, they are my reason for living.” “It’s for the kids.” Let me give you the heads up, nearly the same number of people in society don't have kids as do, and we don't give a damn about your family values. If you choose to have kids, great, that is your choice, “They’ll be a great comfort to you in your old age.” But don't expect the rest of the world to ...

Matt came over. I shouldn't be barebacking him, I know, but somehow, we just end up falling onto my bed with my raw cock up his arse. It doesn’t help that he is keen. Oops. You know, you can’t help those things sometimes, you know. He loves it, he moans beautifully and goes all floppy. He has this thing he does, when he rolls on to his knees, 180 degree turn. Can you imagine how that feels? That's hot... He takes it right up deep, again and again, again and again and again and again. He never needed training wheels. Then I'm pushing his head down on the pillow which naturally brings their arses up, riding his sexy butt cheeks. I know I have said this before, but he is the best, No job too difficult, no angle too difficult. He assures me that I am the only one he has unsafe sex with. "What?" "Do you think I'm stupid.” he said. “As long as I can fuck you without a condom, I'm not going to do it with anyone else. I'm not going to spoil this for anyth...

All the boys are wearing hoodies, it seems to be the dress code today, I observed as I walked down the street to get my haircut in my suit.

He looked daze at me this morning in the hall, wet hair, a mouthful of vegemite toast. I looked dazed at him, wet hair, mouthful of vegemite toast. 7am. Then he turned and headed out the front door for work. I'd been up since... well, I hadn't exactly been to bed. Good luck with that. At the very least, it means he's been thinking about it. He’s got to say something, right. Oops, at the very least.

Daniel kind of cornered me tonight, he seemed nervous. "You and me, you know kiddo, would be a good idea... don't you think?" He shrugged. "You know out in the cold hard reality of day, away from... temptation?" Temptation? Did he say temptation, is all I could think? "Well?" Oh, he meant substances. "Um." What was he saying? "No." Should I say no? "Um." I should say something positive. "It's not like we all haven't been there before?" I'd already had a joint and was feeling naughty, all of a sudden. You want to be let off the hook... well... I don't know about that, exactly. Smile. "Yeah... well... I don't know." “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.” He disappeared into the dark of his room, just the lght from his TV when he opened and closed his bed room door.

I was watching an old black and white movie on the TV late, just the light from the TV lighting up the room. I heard Daniel come in from somewhere. He didn’t come and say hello.

The weekend has started, let the games begin, it is just you and me buddy, nothing planned, let’s make a toast, pass the gin. I ate a large pizza, smoking all the way through the eating of it. I drank red wine. Cubby and I cuddled up on the couch together.

I started smoking (cigarettes) again. Those damn joints. I found myself going to the mull box first thing this morning, and smoking a cigarette in my dressing gown, in the 6am, still dark, air. As the true magnificence of the new day dawning, with all that promise of new hope and ways of being, of the promise tolerance and equity for all, what was I doing, smoking a durry and howling at the moon.

Ah, yeah, bought a bag of pot, got stoned for a few days. Some may ask, so what else is new. And to you I say, I needed a couple of days off from the hustle and bustle of the life, when I get home at night. Jumbo dropped over. He messaged me. Doing my rounds in your area. Something about the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, round your area this evening. What was a boy to do?

Daniel hasn't said anything. He headed off on a conference last week, bless his little cotton socks and the professional world. He really only got home tonight as normal for the first time. He seemed fine. He was so fucked up, possibly, he doesn't remember? Possible. Could happen. Your mind does that other-worldly thing on meth. You can be imagining a complete alternate reality, so easily. That is why people love it and hate it in equal measure. He was putrid smashed! And then just say nothing because you don’t remember? Well, I, for one, am glad he is able to sleep after such a disappointing display by young Daniel. Quite bonkers really, when you think about it. Does he act out like this at home? Yeah, not, not usually. Never seen this from the lad before.

I smoked pot all weekend, lazy, long weekend, lying on the couch days, reading newspapers. Eating home made bread with jam, or marmalade. Tea, coffee. One morning pancakes. We left late in the afternoon, Sunday, as some of us still have to work for a living, “Couldn’t we for some kind of commune, and then we all could live there and grow pumpkins. We could grow huge ones and enter them in the local fare?” “Where would the money come from?” “We’d grow things and sell them?” “When was the last time grew anything, let alone expected people to pay money for it when you’d finished growing it?” “Never.”

Queen's birthday. June long weekend? I'm sure it should mean something to me. If only the days didn't seem to melt into each other, pretty much before you know it, you don't know if it is am or pm? “Will I deal again?” “Yes, Nick, deal.” It just always seems to be a-joint-in-front-of-the-open-fire o'clock, these last few days. Lovely, it's been too. Lots of Fruit Ninja. Cards. Open fire. Stews on the wood stove. Get away. Lose track of time. That’s always a tell tale sign if you have unwound.

That glorious smell of the morning in the country, fresh, moist, alive, energetic, free. Woodsey. Eucalyptus. Damp. I was up first, I’m always up first. The two of us woke at some time in the night, the fire had died, we shuffled off to bed. Nick was still in bed. The fresh air cleared my head. I made coffee, of course. The old coffee machine from Carlton still worked just fine. I’ve got to wonder sometimes why we buy new stuff. Still works perfectly well up here after all this time. I made toast. Avocado, or tuna, on toast. “What do you fancy?” “I don’t see this side of you much.” “Preparing coffee and cooking toast. Oh, and squashing an avocado, not traditionally known for putting up resistance.” “Domestic Josh, who knew.” “I’ll have one of everything.”

I headed to the country, up to the shack, I was picking up Nick on the way. I went in a round about way to pick up some pot from Jumbo. he took his time answering the door, and just when I thought I was going to have leave without it, the front door to his warehouse cracked open and Jumbo’s face poked through the crack. “Oh good, it’s you.” “I called you and we organised… “Yes, yes, I know, I know,” as he threw opened the door. His hair was greasy, he was shirtless and sweaty, all he had on was a pair of those skimpy jogging shorts. “Come in.” “How are you?” “Yeah, good.” He walked across to a table against the wall just inside. “Here.” He turned back and looked at me. “Were you perving on my arse?” “No,” I said. “No, I don’t have undies on.” He pulled the leg of his shorts across and his big cock and balls fell into sight. “I didn’t think…” “Yes, I have a cock ring on.” He grabbed his cock and balls in his hand. “Here,” he said again. He pushed the bag of pot at me. He started strokin...

I spent the evening shopping, unusual for me. Me and Amy went to Costco, it was amazing. I bought new jocks. I always have to come home and masturbate into a pair, when I buy new ones. Don't know why? Maybe it is because my uncle used to make me do it when I was a kid (you know, sixteen) away on holidays with the family. Uncle Jeff I used to love him coming into my room at night and asking me for my dirty jocks. “Where are they,” said Jeff. “I’ll put them in the wash when I am done, so you’ll get them back,” He liked the jocks I'd been wearing all day. Initially, I thought it was funny. He used to take them back to his room and sniff them. Firstly, I noticed them missing and I used to wonder where they were, but then he used to ask me for them, directly. “What difference is it to you?” Then one night he just came out with it, he was drunk they'd all been playing marathon games of cards. Everybody used to disappear off to bed, quickly and often early. All that sea air, those...

I came home and curled up in bed with pasta I made last night. The doorbell sounds late, it was 9.35pm, who would be calling at 9.30pm? If it is not one thing, it was the other, I mutter as I gaze over at the clock. I tip-toe down to the front door in my jocks. The front door light illuminates like a spot light. It is Kurt in the fish-eye view of the peep hole. I open the door a crack and peer out. "Hi," he says. "Did I wake you?" "Yeah, sure you did." "Oh, I'm sorry." He smiles. "But, I was kind of hoping I'd... um..." coy smile "catch you still in bed." I open the door, grab his arm, pull him in and shut the door again. I take him by the hand and lead him to my bedroom. He starts to explain what he is doing and what time he has to be a uni. I wave my hand in front of my face. "Don't talk." I unbutton his jeans and slide them down over his arse, behind him. I kiss him, he has sweet lips. I push his jock...

Lachlan would do photo shoots showing off his muscles to their best advantage. His shorts got smaller and small and tighter and tighter.

I quit smoking again. Never quit quitting and one day you will. Oh, the first day, the wanting, the gnawing. Oh that first day, it is near on the most impossible day there is, oh yes, the women will go on about childbirth, yeah, cheers, thanks a lot, but no, we don’t.

I was pretty out of it as I stumbled in through the front door. Nick had insisted on shots, after everything else we'd drunk, popped, snorted, inhaled. Then he went off with some pierced guy, just because the pierced guy said he was straight, or close to it, or some such shit. My arse, he looked “queer as” to me. But, that's Nick, always a sucker for some claim of a breeder, no matter how unlikely it was. I mean pierced guy was pretty hot and butch and the rest, if you like that sort of thing, so I guess Nick's girlie little cunt could be excused, but straight? Nah. Daniel was in the lounge room when I got in, watching porn. It was pretty dark, no lights on just the blue light of the big screen in the darkened house. He hardly moved at all when I stepped into the room. "Hey?" He had his hand down his track suit pants and was playing with himself. That much I could see. "Daniel? bro?" He grunted, looked at me for a millisecond, or at least, looked in my d...

Kurt was at the gym. Have I created a monster, I thought, as he came scampering over to me with that girlie smile. "Hi." Dare I say breathlessly. He's a good looking boy, sexy, and clearly takes his weight training seriously, as he has a hot little body. But that voice, those mannerisms. I know I shouldn't say that, support my gay brothers and all. Is that internalised homophobia? "Hi ya Kurt." He was smiling broadly, I knew what he was thinking, as though I could read his mind, well, it wasn’t a difficult one. As Nick always says, they all butch up once they are having sex. He said he was wet and wide open. "Really." It was a once off kid. "I need to be filled up." "Oohh, I bet." Oh, I didn't promise you anything. "You can do anything you want." "I thought as much." That kind of came out harshly, even I heard it. Then his mouth kind of screwed up. "Is there something wrong?" "No. Why?...

I started smoking Oh midweek, what can you do? You can’t get the nicotine hump on hump day, that never works. It is just too difficult on a Wednesday. A colleague is bound to piss you off, then it is the anticipation of the colleague pissing you off, then you are having a mild anxiety attack before you know it. No, never on a Wednesday.