"You feel lucky, pal?"
"Lucky enough."
"You feel lucky enough to get to me, before I get to you?"
"Protect your manliness, as you know I'm coming for that first."
"Suck my cock!"
"Nah, you got it all wrong. It's you who'll be doing the sucking."
"So, you are feeling lucky."
You lie there, so serene,
you have no idea
what is going on, in my mind.
Feverish, I'd call it,
right next to you, so quiet.
My limbs buzz
as my hand hovers over you,
trying to decide, which part
of you to touch first.
His eyes were beautiful. Big. Brown. White. Innocence,
but smart behind the veneer of a stranger.
He smiled. Nodded his head. Looked up and down.
Looked as though he purred like a kitten.
It was only me, in his view, saying excuse me.
His eyes sparkled. I could feel mine sparkle too.
Momentary lapse in the space time continuum.
Is it love, thought he?
It is love? thought I.
He spun around, our eyes stayed connected;
the crowd ate us up from both different directions. Consumed us.
The music thumped. The lights flashed.
I never saw him again.
He smiled at me with his amazing blue eyes,
something inside me melted.
His red lips parted just slightly,
the corners of his eyes creased in joy.
I could feel a swoon.
I'm sure he winked,
those beautiful eyes,
gone too soon.
I used to go watch Jason play footy for Glenroy, Saturday morning.
He looked hot in his shorts, nice bum, hairy legs, big bulge, muscular arms
He was just one of the lads as he hung with his mates
We all drank beer after the game in the rooms, excited
The rest of them talked about the game, cars and girls
I'd catch Jason's eye and he'd smile, momentarily
before he'd join in talking hetro sex shit with the others,
all slapping each other’s arses as they showered, as mates do.
He’d be all hey-ho macho and one of the boys,
I used to love it, a tough northern kid.
Then he’d say quietly, Do you want to suck my cock?
Then he’d blush. Straight boys (straightish) are hot when they blush.
Then I'd be sucking his big fat cock back in his room
before his parents got home from where ever they were,
most likely Jason's sisters place, or the market,
with their shopping bags in the boot of the car.
I wondered what his mates would have thought
if they could have seen him spread legged.
The tough footy boy, champion ruck rover
his shorts and his jocks around his ankles, bent over
He'd wipe his spoof off the lino on his bedroom floor
with his jocks when we were done and say,
"Come on, let's shower before the olds get back."
We'd throw the dirty clothes in the hamper and wash off the jack.
A couple of times his parents were home
before we'd finished snogging in the shower.
They never thought anything of it, it never crossed their minds.
We were just two lads being mates, living our lives.
hello? hello?
Is there anybody there?
Nothing.
Silence.
I pull the blankets
up to my neck
I look into the dark,
nothing looks back.
hello? hello?
Nothing still,
just the faint outlines
of the room in the black.
And a strange feeling
I'm not alone,
I'm the only one home,
what do I feel in my bones?
I don't move.
I barely breathe.
I can feel my skin tighten
I can hear my heart beat.
