Coda Josh Grant

I went out jogging early, I couldn't sleep. You gotta like the early morning, when the sun is just rising and the night air is just clearing. I was running around the Boulevard, down near where the old beat used to be, where I'd had a lot of good times, I smiled at the thought. "They" had cut down most of the undergrowth since rendering it not viable any longer. Or so I thought. I was just about to turn for home, when this hot boy came towards me dressed only in little black shorts. Dark haired, olive skin, hairy stomach, hairy legs. Nice. Just my type, I thought. He made it pretty obvious that he was interested, as his head swivelled around following me as I passed. He stopped and stood with his hands on his hips. My steps slowed down as I looked back at him. I stopped and stood looking at him. He nodded his head and then headed down the embankment towards the river. I stood and wondered what I should do? Should I follow him? Shouldn't I? Of course, evil won out ...

Sexy Steve. He's hot, I like him a lot. Good thing, all things considered, hey. Can you all say that about your boyfriends.

I went bike riding along the Yarra. It was a beautiful day, the sky was a radiant blue. I could smell summer in the air, I could feel it against the bare skin of my arms and the wind in my hair. Er? Well, I would have felt the wind in my hair, if I didn't have a helmet on. I'm constantly amazed by those bike riders who have their helmets hanging over their handlebars, or have it on but not fastened. Come on guys, you got that far, go the extra millimetre. Otherwise, why bother, just leave your helmet at home. Is that all there is to bike riding, why bother.

I wandered down Lygon Street to get a little breakfast, to see what I can see, hear what I could hear, do what I could do. It was a slow morning for me. How is that different to other Saturday mornings, I hear you ask? Well, it's not, but it felt like it was today. I had a leisurely wander, it was nice. Time was on my side, it felt like it was on my side, you know. You know, I kind of like this weather, not too cold, not too hot. I'll be winging soon enough about the hot weather, don't you worry about that. Come on Chubby, let’s get something to eat. A big breakfast for me, and a coffee. A plastic container of water for Chubby. I read the newspaper. Chubby lies on the warm paving.

Don't you love those guys who say they are bicurious and then you see them fully taking it up the arse. They are on their knees, pert, hairy arse poking up in the air, with some have-cocked dude stretching their rings with the sheer girth of his shaft, as they beg for more. Hey buddy, that is no longer bicurious. Bicurious, is an inkling, a thought, an idea, a buzz in your stomach when you see a handsome man in jeans and no shirt. What you are doing is gay... not that there is anything wrong with that. It should be encouraged, nurtured, an option for all men, a lifestyle promoted for all men, and it doesn't really matter what we call it.