Big Blond Boy

I was walking, doing my daily hourly routine, around my normal circuit, keeping fit or, at least, trying to. I set out along Gertrude Street, through the Carlton Gardens, where the joggers run the perimeter of the park, down Queensberry Street, along Swanston Street where I perve on all the Melbourne uni students, down Elgin Street, past the Carlton shoppers, down Johnston Street, past the Fitzroy cafes, along Smith Street and home. 

I was on the home stretch, heading down Smith Street to my place, my place was practically in sight. The streets were busy, the time was heading passed 5pm, rapidly, so peak hour was building. The day had set and the late afternoon was rolling in fast. The shortest day of the year was rapidly approaching.

Cars were heading in each direction, in Smith Street, street lights were being switched on. Pedestrians were having to zig zag their way through the traffic to get to where ever they wanted to go. 

I saw a big strapping blond guy jogging down the Greeves Street hill to Smith Street, dressed all in black, a singlet stretched across his muscular frame, thick thighs like springs, and baggy black shorts, with room in those things to accommodate anything anyone of us might be imagining as we gazed upon his beauty.

I pictured him in his undies, of course I did, the thin cotton of his jocks holding him in place, tight across the tops of his legs, and stretched across that sexy arse.

He was tall and well built and he had a handsome face. He was a big guy, athletic, sporty, taught hips, tight waist, muscular shoulders. He was, as the idiot Americans would say, a jock. He had great carves, flexing as he bounced from foot to foot on the side of the road.

He dashed out into the traffic, danced with the cars and bounced from foot to foot gracefully, it wasn’t just his feet that bounced, those baggy shorts being what they were. The traffic came to a halt in both directions, and then he was gone.

I watched him go, jogging off down Stanley Street and out of sight, perhaps with more ‘intent’ than I meant to.

“Tasty,” said a voice off behind me.

I turned to see a girl who resembled Sarah Gilbert standing on the footpath.

“You can close your mouth now,” she said.

“What?” I said.

“Close your mouth before the drool runs down your chin.”

“I’m not drooling.”

“Practically.”

“I am not.”

“I was,” she said. “That had some drooling potential.”

“That?”

“Oh yes, that was definitely a “that,” she said. “That would look good standing next to my bed. That would look good with less clothes on. That would look good in a towel in my bathroom in the morning.”

“That would look good humping my leg.”

“See, now you are getting the hang of it,” she said. “Fellow drooler.”

“I was just waiting to make sure he wasn’t run down by a car on Smith Street as he tried to cross,” I said. “I’m really good at CPR.”

“Yes, I bet you specialise in mouth to mouth.”

“I majored in it,” I said.

“At uni?” she asked.

“At uni,” I said.

“I can picture it, you as a horny first year.”

“I nearly didn’t make it to second year.”

“Too distracted?” she asked.

“Perpetually, dehydrated, with all the fluid I was losing.”

“I can see it,” she said. “You being a chronic drooler and all.”

“Just non-stop dribble, that first year.”

“I’m Veronica,” she said.

“Like out of Scooby Doo?” I said. “I’m Josh.”

“Yes, Scooby Doo,” she said. “I was rather hoping you were Shaggy.”

“To your Veronica?”

“The position is wide open,” she said.

“I would have thought you were more the Fred Jones type?”

“We could double date?

“What? Me and Shaggy…”

“And me and Fred.”

“We could go to the drive in…”

“What planet are you from?”

“You could snog Fred in the front seat…”

“What? While you defile Shaggy in the back seat.”

“All the time each of us secretly wanting to perve on the other one.”

“You humping Shaggy?”

“You humping Fred.”

“If the car is rocking…”

“Don’t cum knocking.”

“Oh, far too much dirty talk for this time of the day.”

“Makes life interesting,” I said. “In fact, it’s all we have. Dirty talk.”

“I’m going to have to go straight home and have a shower.”

“I’m already sweating,” I said.

“Josh, it has been an absolute pleasure.”

“Veronica, I feel the same.”

“I think we are destined to meet again.

“I hope so.”

She started to walk away. I turned to walk home.

“Scooby, Dooby do,” she said.

“Rye Rye,” I said.