Coda Josh Grant

I can suck James cock non stop, really. I can just spread his thick hairy thighs and slurp away on it, it is so beautiful. It is thick. It is straight, not much of a curve. It is the same size at each end, like a blunt instrument. It is hard. It sticks straight out like an iron bar. It is warm and smooth and pretty quickly gets sticky when it is in my hand. He oozes precum, the end of his foreskin is often wet with it. He pushes it into my mouth with enthusiasm. It pushes down to the back of my throat, he groans when the head is rubbing against the back of my mouth. It has a huge, fat vein running along the underneath that slides across my tongue like a pipeline of jizz being pumped across wet terrain.

James came over last night, from the moment he got here, I could tell there was something up with him. He seemed nervous, a little distracted, like his head was somewhere else. 

 I was doing my best impersonation of a swami sitting cross-legged on the floor, the josh stick infused air swirling around my head. Daniel and I were watching episodes of Girls, which Amy had suggested that we watch. It was good, watchable, a nice drama about a group of girlfriends. The trouble is that none of them are especially likeable, but their story is interesting enough, I guess. The main character, Hannah, her boyfriend, Adam, is interesting. There is one scene where he is just about to come and he sits on her and asks her where he can spoof. Through out that scene you practically see him masturbating. There is plenty of sex and enough naked men to keep it interesting. Male actors should do more full frontal nude scenes, I'm not talking about gratuitous nude scenes, but if the character is getti...

There was a young guy walking down Victoria Parade this morning, perhaps 19, or 20, he wasn't that young that you couldn't look, don't worry about that, with a pair of tracky pants clearly with no jocks on. He wasn't a little boy, he was growing right up to be a big boy. And it was probably high time his mum put some undies on him before he left the house. Surely, she must have noticed her young son's hose, as everybody else sure the hell could. It was kind of hard to miss, swinging down there, like an extra leg. I nick named him Jake, yeah, like the peg. Nice his snake looked too, worth a look. I don't know where this kid was going, but wherever it was, his cock was going to precede him in those pants. Whoever he was meeting up with was going to get an eyeful. He was going to go dick first wherever he went today. Shrug. Smile. Maybe he was heading over to his girlfriend/boyfriend to give them a length. He surely wouldn't want to start thinking about...

I saw one of the really fat chicks at work coming out of the toilet, as I was heading out to lunch. I couldn't help but imagine what she looked like sitting on the toilet with her panties around her ankles, with her "Gunt" protruding over her thighs like she was pregnant twice over, probably in the way of her seeing her snatch, maybe for years.  I imagined it all dimply and white and floppy, like half a fig set in a vanilla jelly... of course, there would be hair for days, like a Hungarian Puli had dived head first into her crotch. Or even worse, red and spotty having been shaved to within an inch of its life, except she wouldn't be able to see it to shave it herself. I pity the poor bitch who got that job. Is that normal? Sick, even? Imagining some huge sheila with her gunt out? Do you remember that old greeting card with an elephant pissing on the front under which was written, "It never rains but it pours?" Do you remember? I think Christine was the model...

On my way out to lunch, I have to walk past Dave’s desk. Dave with the cute arse, hmmm. He wasn’t at his desk, which was a pity, as I wanted to have a perve at his ripe peach. I walk right past his desk to get to the lift.  I pushed the lift button.  How I’d like to finger his arse, feel the thick ring of his flesh around my finger, feel the flowing tissue up further with the tip of my finger, I thought, as I got into the lift.  I slid my pointer finger on one hand into the circle of the pointer finger and thumb of my other hand. I tighten the circular fingers and thumb around my pointer finger. I slid my pointer finger in and out.  How I’d like to finger that boy’s arse. The lift doors open and standing on the other side ready to get in was Dave. We faced each other in the open lift door. Dave looked at me “Hi,” he said. And then looked down at my hands, still with my pointer finger inserted into my other fingers. I pulled my finger out of his arse.  ...

James had never smoked pot before he met me. He looked so cute, his first attempts, he became all weak and feeble, stumbling with what to do. It was the first time I’d seen his confidence fail him, adorable. Then his head always spun so severely, it still does, that he’d always have to sit down, not matter how hard he fought it, and he fought it hard. I’ve tried to suggest that he have every second joint to me, but he’ll have none of it, I’m sure he thinks that I think I am conning him some how, I don’t know, shrug. So, accordingly, he has gone from zero to pothead, no training wheels, not trial period. Pat on the back, he has more than kept up his end of the narrative. His eyes spin and he goes all giddy, it is adorable. Felling a big, strapping boy just with a home made splif, it’s fun. “Don’t roll another one.” If he ever gets a bit lippy, I just roll him a joint, it quietens him right down. Shazam! James hasn’t gone home since New Years Eve. I didn’t really envision him hanging a...