Coda Josh Grant

Ben giving it bare chested jogging in the park. He looks hot like that, even if I would be expected to say that. We both go jogging after work.

Hugo is now one year old. He is going to live the whole two dad’s, two mum’s thing, thing his entire life, even if the two, actual, dads hadn’t been decided upon yet or, at least, are somewhere in his future. In his future, let’s hope the Christian’s shit their pants. (It’s always good to make the Christians shit their pants) “It’s good for them,” I said. “Have it confirmed for them yet again that most of the world couldn’t give a toss what they believe in.” “You are, kind of rabidly, anti-Christian,” said Ben. “Sadly, one has to be to counter their rabid Christianity.” “Now is not the time for anti-Christian diatribe,” whispered Natalie in a gruff voice. Ah Natalie? I don't make any effort with her.  Sometimes it is like Ben and I have a son, Hugo, or at least it will be when he starts to connect with his surroundings and talk in full sentences. He’s a cute, happy little chap. He spends most of his time with his mother, and his dad time doesn’t generally include me. Oh yeah, I kno...

There was no EOFY party this year, of course, how things have changed, but I just found last year’s Xmas Party which for some reason I didn’t post. So, here is to how things used to be, and hopefully will be again. I like parties thrown by work, as they are catted affairs and no expense is spared by a wealthy law firm. We have a Xmas party every year. Open bar, unlimited food, a chance to get up close and personal with your favourite work mates, what’s not to like. We all drank ourselves stupid and we all ate until we thought we were going to burst, well, I did. I had to undo my belt on the way home. Finger food, hors d'oeuvres, pastries and gorgeous things on biscuits, small pies, and sausage rolls, and tasty things on various types of bread, and balls of meat and balls of rice and balls of seafood, as just seafood and more balls, and just food as far as one could see. The walls all fold back on the meeting rooms, to make one huge space, the last meeting room resplendent with a fu...

Can't Stop Loving You, And if I stop, Then tell me just what will I do

There are houses being renovated in my street, the inner suburbs being the inner suburbs, it is going on all over. Accordingly, there are some nice specimens of beef standing around. All that HiViz and posturing. Slurp. (I can't believe I said that?) There was a young, fresh faced guy, I’d say 20ish, probably just started his apprenticeship, who had on such small pair of blue workman's shorts, that they were tight around the tops of his thighs, hugging his legs. And what thighs he had! Jasus! They fitted his crotch, two handfuls, like a queen had fitted them for him for a dance party. The boy looked like he had a huge waz on him. I couldn’t help but look. He couldn’t help but notice me notice. It didn’t seem to faze him though. 19, 20, you would have to have jerked off this morning, I thought next. Then I was picturing him with those tiny shorts and his still warm jocks around his work boot clad ankles, pounding himself energetically, wanting to get the job done before he left ...

I remember the first singer who got my attention when I was but a wee kid, was Tom Jones. Amanda likes him, he is her pinup boy. Go back and watch early Tom Jones on YouTube. Wow! Amanda used to have a whiskey and watch him on Rage, or something. I’d like to say she cried, hysterically, wantonly, TomeJonesMania, but that is just me being dramatic. She never cried. But more to the point, I used to sit next to her and he’d make me feel kind of funny, something I didn’t really understand. I’d want to cry over his open shirt and his exposed chest, his dancing, his everything. Little baby Joshy with big eyes as Tom Jones sang with his shirt undone. “It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone.” “It’s not unusual to have fun with anyone?” Or he sang in a dinner suit. I’m sure that is why I think men are so sexy in a tux and bow tie. Talk about handsome. And the way he danced? The way he danced. The way he gyrated his hips. The way he moved his body. Little Josh was transfixed, not really knowing...

You know, what with all this blog re-writing that I am doing – I’m now up to June 2011, I’ve re-written 2009 and 2010, the first six months of 2011, now – it gets kind of confusing coming back to current day. Spookily. And sometime when I am slurping down on Ben's big cock, like it is the latest flavour from Messina, I can look up and my life can flash before my very eyes, all the people, all the guys. Steve, James, Matthew, Tim. A succession of beta males. Nothing wrong with beta males. Ben is an alfa male. (I laugh to myself, whatever that means?) It’s trippy. I try to do it, when I look up at him, catch myself off-guard, you know, deliberately, squint an eye, will it be Steve, will it be James, will it be Matthew, will it be Tim, will it be Ben, stupid isn’t it. But sometimes, it works and he turns into the most interesting people, momentarily, in a blink of an eye. Who’d have thought I’d want to suck his cock. “You know, like Gavin Christmas.” Ben laughed “No one would have bee...

Two brothers who live on the other side, with the Labrador called Mary. Gary and Simon. One of them walks Mary each day. Or comes into your yard, yet again, to collect escaping Mary. It was once always the smoking hot brother, Gary, well, you didn’t mind him coming to get his Mary from your back yard, but lately it has been the ugly balding one, Simon. The perpetually grumpy brother. Well he lives with his smoking hot brother, Gary, so he would be reminded every day how he missed out in the looks department, in life, big time. “Is that what you think? said Daniel.” “What?” “Living here with me every day, knowing you are the ugly one.” “You don’t get to walk my bulldog though,” I said, provocatively. “What?” said Daniel. “Oh, euw!” said Daniel wincing, like he had just thought of the most repulsive thing there was. “I would have done you long before you were the last man on earth, babe,” I said. “Let me tell you.” “What?” said Daniel. “Oh, euw!” He was thinking of th...

Butch and Bruno are so funny to watch. They play like bulldogs, rough and tumble all over the house. Then its goes quiet and they give each other head, you can usually see at least one of them with ‘that look’ on their faces. The most expressive dog, the bull dog. Then you find them cuddled up on the couch together, in the sunny spot. Always snuggled with at least one limb touching the other one, so it would seem. We are with our people now, we don’t need to be disturbed. They like us working from home. My epitaph will be, The bulldogs are in the sun.

When I don’t want people to know how much pot I’ve been smoking, usually the significant other, I employ what I call the two bag method. I buy two bags instead of one. I secrete one bag somewhere easily accessible in the house, and every morning, and I get up early now, a hang over from all the big cases, but they’re gone now, but the early rising hasn’t, I swap them over. Every morning, I swap one bag for the other. You have to keep it up every morning, then it goes seamlessly.

I got up early, too early, 5am. Stupid early, I couldn't sleep. Ben says it is my subconscious waking me, because it knows I have pot to smoke.  Don’t you start. Yes, already Whatever? I got really stoned before 8am, and I followed Nolan Gould on Instagram. I'm very happy to read he is 21 now. The first time I looked up his age, after I had been noticing him more and more, doesn’t bare thinking about. Good for him. I have no trouble saying, now, he is damn cute. One fine looking boy. Probably still creepy.

I met up with my cousin Mitchell. He came over for a smoke, bad him. We joked about how neither of us have downloaded the government app. Te hee, te hee. He said lockdown was getting to him, he just had to get out of the house. We sat on my back veranda. I told him about Ben. “Didn’t he have a girlfriend?” “Not anymore.” “I know a guy who plays football with Ben.” “Oh, really who?” “Andre Darren.” “The red head?” “Yes, that is him.” “How do you know him?” “Oh, look Josh, there is something I have been meaning to tell you,” said Mitchell. “I’m… I’m… I’m gay.” “Well.” I always knew. “Welcome to the team.” “You didn’t know.” “Oh, no…” tell the truth. “It didn’t… er… doesn’t come as a complete surprise.” “I wanted to tell you before this, but I have only come to terms with it now myself.” “That’s okay, I get it.” “Thanks.” “Does the whole family know?” “Yes.” “How was your mum and dad.” “Mum was hysterical about grandchildren, until dad pointed out she had two, presumably heterosexual, and...

It's always on time, that is there is always time for it, no matter what stage we are at, no matter where life has taken us.

You might think this blog lacks any kind of intellectual argument? Well, you'd be right. This is not my thesis for my masters in law. This was always meant to be frivolous, an outlet to let off steam. Somewhere to tell the dirty stories, the unedited truth. It was always meant to be the dirty thoughts we all have. I've been re-writing it, now I am in lock down. I've re-written 2020, 2019, 2018, 2009 and the first six months of 2010. It has only taken a couple of weeks. I should get the whole thing re-written before lock down has finished. And, now that I am re-writing it, some ten years after I first wrote a lot of it, some of it embarrasses me, quite frankly. Oh well, what can you do? This is what I, clearly, thought at the time, so in that sense how can any of it be embarrassing. Nice try. I get rid of the embarrassing bits, don’t you worry about that. It was always meant to be unapologetically gay. It was always meant to be, This Is Josh Grant. Large print, or small p...

My company which is basically a debt-free multinational partnership owned by multimillionaire partners, is going to reduce all if its employee's wages by 15%, justifying it as needed in times of reduced profits. Of course, I blame years of conservative Liberal governments who have drip fed the population with the idea that workers’ rights can be discarded for the good of the wealthy person's fortune. I don't really have any financial woes, I'm just making an observation for the collective good. 😬 The ordinary man should be rioting in the streets, demanding the head of the likes of Gina Reinhart et al on sticks for how the rich are screwing them over. But for some reason now a days the worker simply lies down on the ground with their arses in the air and accepts the rich fucking them harder. I think it is pathetic. When you go into business there are risks involved that every owner of a company knows about. You take risks with your money and in the good times it pays of...

He looks like Ben, he really does. I find myself strangely attracted to him, which, I guess, isn't so hard to believe. I might have to buy some of his movies just to see how I feel about him in them.

Ben and I go jogging early in the morning, just in our shorts. 6am to avoid everyone else, even if there are relatively few people on the streets. It is still dark, it is crisp and wearing very little, you know you are alive. I'm awake at that time, anyway, but Ben takes some cajoling back into the conscious world. We wear little black shorts and nothing else, as it inspires us both to jog hard to get warm. Straight off the blocks, bouncing around on the balls of our feet in the middle of my street, Ben’s street, wherever we start, we soon get going. We like jogging up the middle of the road, and at present it is relatively safe to do so. A nice wide path with the horizon somewhere in in the distance. We have to train hard to counter the effects of our biscuit, coffee and pot diet, we've been enjoying in lockdown. Well, not so much weed for Ben, I smoke his allocation, ha ha. I follow Ben’s hot arse, my guy is sexy as. I think I love him more and more as time goes by. Oo, there...

I've been putting peanut butter on chocolate coated scotch finger biscuits and eating them with coffee. Those flavours are sublime. TV on, it is 8am. Kick the bed clothes off. Ben has been on a Tim Tam diet, they make his cum taste sweeter than it normally does. Is what they say? I haven’t found that EVER to be true. Yuck. It’s yuck. And, I am afraid, it will always taste yuck. I’ve been trying to swallow it, but it still tastes awful, even if it is sweeter than it was. Three mornings in a row I have taken a mouthful, for the team, but I still don’t like it. I’m a failure of a gay boy. It should taste good, we go to crazy lengths to get it. But… makes vomiting sounds. I don’t… makes more vomiting sounds. Yuk, is still what I say. I’m sorry, it is just awful. Seriously, we could do better than that? Which committee approved that flavour? I want to know?

It was the end of our Webex practise group meeting. Ralph Reiner, love a chat, our group leader, had already gone over by half an hour. We had been having meetings every day, but now we are having them Monday, Wednesday and Friday. "Anyone got any questions," asked Ralph. Nobody had any questions, we'd been chatting for nearly an hour by this stage. We had discussed the ins and outs of every duck’s bum we had to discuss. Enough. "Anyone got any stories?" asked Ralph. No-one had any stories. We all wanted to log off. "Anyone got anything funny they'd like to share?" asked Ralph. No one did. "So, anything else?" asked Ralph. "Oh, Ralph, are all the plants dead by now?" asked Sharon Reddy. "No, no, I have been walking around watering all the plants, Sharon," said Ralph. "I was going to ask the same question," I interrupted. It’s true, I had, but I wondered if it was lame? Stupid really. "Yes, your plants, J...

So, what, the Victorian government says that if you don’t live with your partner you can’t go and visit them, supposedly that is against the rules? Seriously, Dan? I like Dan Andrews and all, but don’t get carried away with your police state, buddy. Keep some perspective, mate. Don’t bring in laws that are destined to fail. Ben and I share spit, spoof, and sweat, there is no way we are now going to isolate from each other, just because we don't live in the same house. Buddy and Butch play together, just like Josh and Ben.