Coda Josh Grant

The light was seeping into the room from behind the curtains. I was so comfortable that I didn't want to move... at all. Eyes open, everything else still asleep. It was a lazy morning and I didn't feel like getting up and, of course, going to work. I looked over at Matt's head on the pillow, reached over and tousled his hair. He groaned and pushed his arse against me and said, "Fuck me before I have to get up and go." He got a handful of lube from the pump pack beside the bed and rubbed it across his furry crack. "Please." So, I slid my morning boner into him. God, he's got a nice, tight little arse. He fucked himself on my morning hardon, back and back and back until he was fully engorged, I practically didn't have to do anything. He's an enthusiastic boy. Just as he started to whimper with delight, I rolled him onto his stomach and fucked him hard. I love the feeling of his tight ring around my shaft as I slide it in and out of him. He lay ...

Why does it keep going out? I think as I suck and it is dead. Half the time I'm sucking away at nothing. The lighting is interminable, just painful. Fuck me, what's going on with this? This self extinguishing tobacco plays havoc for pot smokers. I finally staggered out the door. I went and had lunch with my dealer, Jumbo. He laughed when I mentioned about the self extinguishing smokes. "That's life babe, everything good is self extinguishing." I laughed. "There's a few people I'd like to see self extinguish, I bet you do to?" "Just the pollies..." "And the fucken do-gooders." "The Christians..." "The busy bodies who don't have anything else to do with their lives." "Perhaps, we could put them all in a boat and ship them off shore." "It would have to be a big boat." "The Ark." "Huh." Jumbo lifted his wine glass. "Here's to a bloody big boat..." ...

I was out weeding my cacti. The pots were beginning to be over grown with weeds. It only seems like yesterday that I’d weeded them, but there you go. I used to hate them, thought they were the dopy man’s plant, but I seemed to have acquire a few and my opinion hasn’t changed. Now, you have to be careful weeding the buggars, as some of them are covered in spikey little thorns. (I thought I’d slipped the last of them, guilt free, into the bin on bin nights. I thought they’d all been dealt with. I’d just about finished when I grabbed one of the cactus, and not the weeds, and I got spiked. So, I decided I was done for the day. I came inside and made a coffee and rolled a joint and was watching the morning news, when Mark Ferguson came on. I used to have the hots for him something chronic, so I got the lube and proceeded to wank to him reading the news. Unfortunately for me, I must have still had some spike left in my hand from the cactus… and now they are in my cock. Youch!

I headed to the gym, 6am. It is twice as easy, if you get it done in the morning. And I get up early, anyway. I should have gone yesterday. Up early, breakfast then out the door, before I have a chance to piss around, get going, don’t sit back on my lazy fat arse. Next thing I’m in the office showering,” I said. “If I am lucky, I get to shower with Marco…” “Marco?” questions Matt. “D’Souza,” I said. “D’Souza? questions Matt. “You met him when we went out for dinner the other night.” “James Bond?” “With the other guy.” “Yes, I remember him.” “He rides in, in the mornings,” I said. “Sometimes I get to see his naked arse in the showers, in the morning, before work.” “More than his naked arse, I bet.” “Sometimes, much more.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “I some times get to see the full show, yes I do. Call HR.”

Lachlan has great legs. Online viewers get off on his legs. Then there are the foot fetishist. Lachlan doesn't mind them, as they are easy. He loses a lot of pairs of socks and jocks. He doesn't really understand the guys who want the dirty ones, but he does oblige them.

What a beautiful day, I lay in the park and enjoyed the flora. A little joint, a book and my laptop, which I didn't switch on. The blades of grass felt cool on my skin, tickling my neck and my ears. The lawn was a soft blanket under my back. Chubby kept me warm. He’s like a hot water bottle. Fit lads in shorts jogged by all afternoon, speaking of hot water bottles. There was the guy in black, baggy shorts who came and did sit ups and push ups just next to me. Those baggy shorts were a treat, I could see right up his hairy legs to his white jocks, nice. He might as well have not been wearing those shorts at all. What a sight? The sun shone.

My buddy and I spent the day in his garden, on his terrace. The sun shone down, the sky was blue. The leaves were just starting to turn, autumnal colours waving in the breeze, orange and yellow and brown. He spent two years in hospital/rehab for drugs and the mental side effects that they can cause. He's changed, but he is the same. I guess, he might say that about me, in all reality. Mostly he seems like his old self and it's nice to have my friend back. He drank white wine and I smoked pot. We talked the whole afternoon. We were plastered by the end, each on our own poison. He’s got a great place. He’s got a great career, if he can keep this contained, which so far he has managed to do. He took long service leave, you can after 7 years. He went to Canada. After, Open Shores. New beginnings, the world is your oyster. Rehab for those who can afford to pay for it, and who have a clear pathway out. He did all of those winter sports he loves, and so rarely gets to do. He and his w...