Coda Josh Grant

What does it feel like to fuck Tim’s hot arse? Picture him, strapping, muscular, solid, bulging in his shorts, filling them out with his firm round cheeks, as we jog together down the street. Every mother’s perfect son, handsome, smart, athletic, but he’ll never give her the grandchildren of which she dreams. I see that as a good thing, there are too many people on the planet, anyway. Do you want to know what it feels like to be inside him? Between those tight cheeks? Inside that arse at which so many people take a double take. Look back and look back again. I could write all day about how great it feels to be inside his tight hole. And boy does it feel hot fucking his sexy arse. He likes it on his knees best, with me coming into him from behind, as his arse lips spread wide, with me inside. He grips tight, he moans with delight, as I push it into him, as he pulls his big cock frantically, as the juice wells up in him, as I bang it out of him, until he is gasping for breath, and callin...

Our blood tests came back negative. Good, huh. Not that I really thought that they wouldn't. What must it have been like in 1986 getting those tests done. Terrifying, I'd imagine. We just breezed in, with the advantage of 30 years of knowledge, not really a care in the world.  I was a bit nervous, I always am. Not that I thought the result would be anything other than what it was, but I am always a bit nervous with every one of "those" test. I just am, just am. Two guys with who I'd have unprotected sex, Matt and Tim. It was a calculated risk. I judge both of their stories, considered that they were telling the truth, and it turned out okay. I told Tim about Matt, near the beginning,  he shrugged. "That's okay, it's not likely, is it?" "No, not likely," I said. And that was that. "Exclusive unprotected sex from now on," said Tim. "Yep," I said. "Promise." "Me too," said Tim. I...

Lovely Tim. He is quite the hunk. He's quite the guy, who isn't shy about anything

I went to see Harry, the guy I met the other night at a party, he was very keen for me to go around. I kind of like the idea of a photographic journal of my life, not only take it down in words, but have images to go with those words. Who do I think I am, I hear you say? Why does he think he is so special, or that interesting? I don’t know about that? All I can do is provide what I know and other people, future generations will decide if it is interesting, or not. I’m just recording my bit for posterity. And isn’t everybody interested in their family and where they came from? Even if it doesn’t seem so important now, in 100 years if may be viewed differently. I reckon that is what I am going to do, photography. And what a way to start, with Harry. Don’t worry, I got it. Harry has an ulterior motive, I thought as I got ready to go. He’s old school queen, to who photos are something naughty. That’s okay with me, old queens were really kind to me when I first came out, like a bunch of pro...

Lovely Tim, he doesn't mind being my photographic model and play thing. He says he's always wanted to be someone's play thing.

So, Tim says he wants to be my Boyfriend, he kind of hinted at it, with a coy smile and searching eyes. He says he wants to have adventures, boyfriend adventures, with someone special. He says he doesn’t really want to play the field. He is pretty cool to hang out with, and he is hot. Sometimes, he will be just sitting there like last Sunday morning in his boxers. (The heating was on keeping him warm) I gave him his coffee while he was surfing the web. The news mostly, I wasn’t really taking so much notice of what he was looking at, but I was sneaking looks at him. Tim has such a nice face, which, I have to admit, I just want to kiss all over. He has a great chest, it can’t help but get my attention. He has awesome nipples and rounded pecs, which I like to rub and suck and squeeze. As my eyes move lower, I can see the perfect amount of hair leading down his belly eventually disappearing under the waistband of his boxers. His eyes look sideways at me. He smiles. “What?” The hair slides ...

Tim and I went and had blood tests. Daniel wasn't keen to do it, he said we should really keep "arm's distance..." "What the fuck does that mean?" "I'm too close to you," said Daniel. "It's better you go to someone who is neutral..." "Why are you trying to get out of this?" "I'm not. You are my brother. I shouldn't be treating you, not really." "Yeah, well, okay." "You have your own doctor," said Daniel. "Go see him." "Sure. Fine." "And Tim should go an see his doctor." "We want to go together." "How sweet." "Get fucked." I punched Daniel in the arm, he punched me back. "And you are still filling that boy's arse with cum." "Are you worried that the results will come back positive?" "No, not really," said Daniel. "I'm too close, it is better this way......

I spent the day in bed with Buster, as it rained all day. Buster snored and twitched, as he lay against my left leg. His mouth flaps as he exhales, so cute really. The rain fell all day, well, half the day, as I write this at midday. It looks like it is set in though. The sky is grey, and everything drips outside. The rain hasn't let up all morning.  You can smell the moisture in the air, it feels close and embracing.

It was a rainy, over cast day, nothing else to do but to light a fire - which we haven't had for some weeks - and settle down in front of it. Amanda said I could come over and have lunch with her. "Not in the rain..." "How old did you say you were, darling?" "I just want to sit in front of the fire and listen to the rain fall on the roof." “And smoke your whacky cigarettes.” Cold, wet, rainy Monday, what else is there to do but light a fire and have a wank to your favourite porn, but I couldn't, exactly, tell Amanda that. “Whacky cigarettes, Amanda,” I said. “Is that what they called them in your day? “In my day indeed,” said Amanda. “It is still my day, darling.” “Whacky cigarettes?” “Darling, I am your mother, what do you think?” “You always say that?” “I can’t change your mind?” “No mum, you can’t.” “Okay darling, you are a great disappointment to me yet again…” “As you are to me,” I said. “What is my lovely son doing?” “Try calling him to fin...

Tim and I go jogging together. He is a pretty good runner, so I have to be on my game when we run together.

I shaved all my pubic hair off. Daniel bought a new shaver, the old one we’d both used for some time had become blunt and pulled at your public hair as you cut it, it is true. We were in the bathroom. "Here, give it a try," said Daniel. “Now?” “Yeah, it is great,” said Daniel. So, I pulled down my jocks. I tried it with the guard on and nothing. “This is shit, nothing,” I said. I showed Daniel that nothing happened. “Oh well, take the guard off,” said Daniel. “Here.” He pulled down his jocks to show that he was completely bald. “The girls love it. I’m sure the boys do too.” So, I removed the guard and I was bald in a minute. It was good, though, as it has a foil and not a blade, so you can shave your balls without fear. I’m always nervous when I am in the shower with a blade and the water is pour into my eyes, and my nuts are slippery and slipping out of my fingers as I scrape at myself with a blade. There was a knock at the door. “Hey, are you guys going to be any longer.” I...

What happened? We look around and every thing's changed and we ask the question. "What happened?" "I was too busy living my life, working my days to pay for my nights,” said Beth. "The bills never stopped, the wants never ceased, just a little more, you know what I mean." "And suddenly it's ten years later and we are left wondering, What happened? What did I do?" "How did I get here?" Beth twitched. "Do you know?" Slip sliding away. Oh? Slip sliding away. “Well, you concentrated on getting through the days,” I said. “And the years took care of themselves.” “I guess that is right,” said Beth. “Blink. Gone…” “Blink and fucken gone is right,” said Beth. “And it is over, never to be repeated. Nobody tells you that when you are a teenager.” “I think they do,” I said. “But you are not going to listen if it doesn’t mean anything to you…” “One shot,” said Beth. “One shot,” I said. “It should be written in big letters on your final ...

Running up (name) Street, I could feel the French Honey Butter Toast hanging from my stomach. It was a slow start, a very slow start. I had on my little black shorts, the ones with the splits up each leg that, possibly, show more than is required. But, I like joggers who show their undies when they jog, it is sexy. I really had to drag my sorry arse up the street for a good kilometre before I stopped feeling bloated and heavy and my thick, hairy legs stopped feeling like tree trunks. It took a while before I got into some sort of rhythm. It was the French Honey Butter Toast, I am sure, it wasn’t the pot, I can speak up for the pot. It wasn’t the pot. The damn French! And their crazy diet.

You toast 2 pieces of your finest, dense white bread. You butter the toast liberally with butter when it is hot. You will need soft butter. Spoon on a heaped teaspoon of honey onto the middle of each slice. Spread the honey to the edges of the toast. Then get a large knife full of butter and spread it into the honey, to make the honey all creamy. Spread butter through all the honey. Drink your best coffee while you eat the toast. You can do this once a year.

I go and see Daniel for more Prehp. He shakes his head and gives me another lecture about my wayward behaviour. “Is there something wrong?” asked Daniel all concerned. “No. Nothing,” I said. “Lack of direction… lapse of concentration. Just wanted to. He’s hot.” “Really, Josh? That is the same tired shit everyone dishes up around here?” “Look, he’s beautiful, young, 20 years old, if you must know.” I wasn’t sure why I had to justify myself. “He says he’s negative, it is probably true…” “But?” “I know, I know, but the chances are really good,” I said. Daniel arched his eye brows, just like dad does, saying, I am not buying it, not completely. “And I had a test a month ago, which was negative, thank you very much.” “Every exposure is another risk…” “Besides, I’m always top, you already know that.” “That is no guarantee.” “But, come on. Between us?” “You are being pathetic.” That hurt. I thought I was being moderately funny. At least a smile. But, You are pathetic. I have to say that hurt....

Tim objected to smoking pot, his first black mark, detraction, we’ll call it. But, true to form, he got a very big hard cock in his jeans the moment the dope hit him. As much as he objected to smoking. Pot makes you horny, in fact, of all the drugs, really, pot is the best sex drug. Sure, if you want to feel wasted, off your face, sex machine, don’t give a fuck, there are better drugs, but if you want to feel lovely, touchy feely, with the boy you like the best, pot is hard to beat. “Is this the first time you have smoked pot?” “This is the first time I have smoked anything.” (he hasn't turned it down, yet, not since Lygon Street) I hesitated momentarily, was I about to do a bad thing? Nah. Just take a few puffs, you can always have more, but it is hard to come back from too much. He sure looked sexy like that, all droopy-eyed and flushed face. I went and sat next to him and slid my hand into his pants. Fuck his hot, hard, clammy, thick cock felt nice in my hand like that. I ran my...

Tim woke up horny. He rolled over on top of me and kissed me. I gazed into his eyes, he's beautiful, you know. We kissed good morning, he even tastes sweet in the morning. We fucked without a condom, really fucked, hard. (sure, I did it with Josh, but I know Josh, I feel like I know his pedigree) I wanted to feel how good his arse felt, just like last night, deep inside him, tissue on tissue, skin on skin. I was surprised, as I was doing it, it was easy with him, like it never has been before. He wanted me to. He sat on me which I never really like. I rolled him onto his back and just slid it in. I could feel it then. I could feel the edge of my knob on his ring. I could feel every inch of skin inside him. I lay him sideways and fucked his arse long and hard. No holding back. Slippery, lubed skin on wet, lubed skin. Until he blew. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Then he squirted all over my bed. It was hot. I came in his arse, filling him with my cum. Let’s hope it’s not a b...

I was going for a walk in the morning. Headphones on. Okay, I’d smoked before I left, there is some new theory about getting high before exercising, it is supposed to relax you, so you know I’d be all for it. Nina Simon was singing the blues. Some guy stood in my way. He said, “Hey you,” and I brushed him off. Or did he say, hey it is you.” Nina sang, my mans gone now. I looked back, as you do, to try and mouth sorry, or whatever it is you do. He was looking back. Did I know him? No. Just a kid in a beanie. Nice eyes. There is a message on my phone. “Now we find out if you gave me a false number the other day…” False number? There is no use, wails Nina. The other day. I never gave my… oh? Widow Peak Boy. I look back, he is out of sight. Nina is too much. I change to the Rockmellons. I start to jog. The boy at the lights. Nice dick on him. Oh, yes, that was him. I look down at the message on my screen. Yes, I guess this is the point at which we learn if I was sincere, or not. Was I sinc...

It takes three coffees and 3 joints to make me feel normal in the morning. Well, not normal, human. Of course, I don't need that in the mornings to feel normal, I feel normal without it, which is rather the point.  I need that veil of heaviness over my eyes to operate in the world. Well, I don't need it, I just prefer it. Always on the brink of laughing, that's what feeling monged is all about. Constantly on the brink of laughter, now tell me that is not a good way to be.