It's funny thinking about Jason. He was fiery and passionate and beautiful. A wog boy to be sure. We kind of had a special bond, kids from different sides of the tracks make good friendship. Day time movie premises. I bet they wouldn't show the hot fucking, skin on skin; we couldn't get enough of each other's genitals. We were always pulling each other's pants off, all over our expensive private boy’s school, often in the bushwalking club storeroom, we were both keen bushwalking club members, for all of senior school, just so we could shag each other at night in our tent.
Ironic, so many years later and the bush walking master is up on sex charges, but he never once invited me or Jason, to share his tent in the evenings. That wasn’t his style. Jason and I were partners, partners were encouraged, because we used two man tents, but individual boys were encouraged too. A single boy in a two man tent, his movements weren’t so closely watched by anyone. While Jason and I were balls deep up each other, the bush walking master was inviting those single boys into his tent to sleep. “You don’t have to sleep alone,” Chris would, apparently, whisper into their shell pink ears.
Jason seemed so alive and his extended family seemed like a circus going on around him. The funny thing is that I have his parent's phone number, still. It wouldn't be so unrealistic that they haven't moved, (my parents haven't moved) they'd lived in that house for years back when I knew them.
They loved me. They thought I was funny. They were all so earthy, in their away. They called me Jason's boyfriend, even though I don't think they suspected, really. We were both kids in their eyes. I was different to them, so I was just Jason's buddy. School friend, that's how he passed us off. A skip friend. I used to stay over and sleep on the roll out bed under Jason’s bed. They'd give me Jason's phone number, most likely. They'd certainly pass mine on to him, I think.
What would happen, do you think?
What if he'd never found love? What if he was married, but had lost his love?
What if he was married... boys cheat, they all do. He'd come over to my place and fuck and feel no guilt. Guys don't feel guilt about that stuff. If it involves their cocks, they don't care about anything else, it doesn’t count. It would be different, that's all.
I live on my own. I can entertain married men easily.
I wouldn’t feel any guilt.
25/12/2015
I found Jason.
I found Jason online. I typed in Jason Farrugia and there he was, just like that. It seemed so easy. Social networking, you've got to love it.
He said he'd been meaning to look me up for ages. He wanted to catch up. That’s what he said, by return message, not 24 hours later.
We'll see.
Amy, Jason’s wife, was overseas visiting relatives. They couldn’t afford for them all to go, so just Amy and the 2 boys went, besides Jason had to work. They wouldn’t be back until February sometime.
I couldn't help but feel a little excited. A quick message back is always encouraging. I know, if somebody who I don’t want to talk to calls, I agonise over answering, and I agonise over answering, until it drifts off into the either and I don’t ever end up answering at all.
He's married with two kids. “That’s quick work,” I said. It’s only been five years, going on six.
He said he often thinks about me, wonders what I'm up to. Has wondered.
01/01/2016
He looked better than ever. He’d lost all of his puppy fat and he was now just lean and handsome.
“Yeah but you never got your arse into looking, now did you?”
“Oh Josh, it’s not going to be all of this all over again, is it?”
“All of this?”
“Me and You?”
“No.” Good thing he pulled me up on it when he did. Yeah, I’d smoked the joint walking from the car park, I got nervous having it in my pocket. I just get kind of obsessive around him. It was going to be “all of this.”
“So why did you want to have a drink?” said Jason.
“Old times,” I said. He just looked at me. I guessed at that point I hadn’t thought this through as well as I’d given myself credit for. “Why not,” I said. I held out my stubbie, Jason chinked his stubbie with mine.
“I’ve finished uni and got a job,” I said. “What about you?”
“I’ve finished uni and got a job,” he said.
“SNAP.” I said, rather louder than I intended. “They’re the same,” I followed with limply. I was nervous.
He looked alarmed. “Architecture,” he offered. That made sense, Jason was always drawing. He produced great caricatures of our classmates, teachers, celebrities. He was considered some kind of drawing genius by the faculty.
“I’m a writer,” I said.
“You were always writing at school… all those poems.”
We were like the artistic, in the true meaning of the word, smart kids, house captain, sports captain, orchestra leader, magazine editor, long time Smithton family students. My uncles on my mum’s side went to Smithton. Jason’s father and grandfather attended too. And I got to lick the school captain (Jason’s) arse and he liked it.
In fact, believe it, or not, Jason was the main instigator back then, he chased me, he put the hard word on me, quietly, in the shadows, when nobody else was around. It all started around the end of year 10. We’d been for a tour of the gold country and we were put up in twin rooms in hotels and Jason and I shared rooms. Names were being called in the lobby, when a name was read out, if anybody elected to share with that person, they just had to yell their name out. My name was read out. There was a definite deathly silence… and at the final moment, Jason Farugia was spoken. That was the very first inkling I got of the tempestuous affair that was about to follow. Nothing happened between us other than longing looks and feelings we didn’t have the first clue about, all through the gold country, but it must have ignited some spark, it must have ignited some feelings.
I said yes the beginning of year eleven, in form assembly, just like that. It went from there solidly until midway through first year of uni, for both of us. It was casual. It was sporadic. Jason started to see girls. I bet you he never told any of them that he was still having penetrative, unprotected sex with his best school buddy. I bet you he didn’t share that fact about himself. I had had hot, mindless, uninhibited, stoned sex with Jason the night before he met Amy.
I never saw Jason again after he met Amy. I didn’t see him for five years, until the two of them broke up temporarily, because of me.
“I’ve got them all stored electronically now, which one would you like to read?”
He laughed nervously.
“There’s poems in their about you,” I said. “They use your real name… and all.”
“Things change,” he said. Shrug.
“Intimate things.”
He got nervous. He started to fidget in his chair.
“You got married,” I said. “I’m still waiting for my invitation in the mail.”
“Oh Josh… sorry mate, it would have been too difficult.”
“I could have been civilised for 24 hours, so we could all share in the day.” Your best mate since prep.
“Seriously? Do you think that was ever really going to happen?”
Well, no, not seriously. It just sounded good to say it out loud. Oh Jason, seriously, do you really think I would have come to your wedding… to confront your rat-faced bride.
“After what happened,” he said.
What happened was, through absolutely no fault of my own, Jason got really drunk one night, just before he and Amy were going to get married, 01/02/2012, to be technically correct. It was a whirlwind romance, they met and married in the same year, practically. New Years day, New Years Day. They had just screwed on St Kilda beach, very early New Years day, in the after glow of it, Jason got all drunk confident and admitted to our 2 year plus affair starting at school. He said he didn’t want to have any skeletons in his past when he got married, the next day. This didn’t go as Jason had planned. He said, as soon as he had made the admission, the soft music played, the after glow cigarette delicious, just by the first expression he saw on her face, he realised he had just fucked up seriously. Stylus scratched across a LP. The cigarette stopped burning. Cold. Hard. Ash.
02/01/2012
She told her family and declared that she never wanted to see him again. That drove him into my arms for a few weeks. Ah bliss, Xmas Day. Don’t you just ache for this level of irony? They made up and the wedding was back on, a short time later. Can you guess who got the blame for being a sexually aggressive monster?
(Of course he never admitted to us sleeping with the sexually aggressive monster during the most recent time of separation, just the first time, stupid, experimenting kids. What skeletons were you talking about, Jason? This latest time, I contacted Jason as two confident, adult men for the first time, who knew exactly what they were doing, and we had wild unprotected sex, we took turns going bitch.)
01/01/2016
“You had children,” I said.
“Really, Josh,” said Jason. “Leave my kids out of this.”
“Out of what?” I asked.
“Whatever this is?”
“You’re over-thinking it, Jase,” I said. “You’re thinking too much in the past.”
“I hope so,” said Jason.
I really hadn’t thought this through at all. I didn’t want aggressively defensive Jason, I wanted no-care-in-the-world-Jason, the Jason I used to know. Fuck it! I got a buzz, would it be old fashioned to say, in my loins. Defensive Jason had angst, I could hook into that, that was sexy.
“How about it?” I asked, just like that.
“How about what?” said Jason. The emphasis was most definitely on the ‘what’.
“For old times sake, Jase,” I said. “Just to see if you’ve learned a thing or two in five years. I am guessing you have.”
He hesitated, stopped, he pulled back. I thought I’d read the situation really, really, really all wrong, for a milli second. “I’ve learned a couple of things,” said Jason. He smiled his not-a-care-in-the-world smile, the smile I remembered. That’s my boy, I thought.
The dappled light and the cool breeze in the beer garden, and the beer, led us back to my place, where Jason looked completely out of place, until I undid his trousers and sucked his cock, the same fat sausage, as ever, then I stopped noticing if he looked out of place, or not. We’d drunk far too much beer, my still small voice was saying, nee screaming, this was a really bad idea. I ignored it. That boy has a trowel on him that other boys can only dream about.
He said afterwards it meant nothing, which I have to admit, I was a little hurt by. I’d been his longest relationship so far, I deserved a little more respect than a cold face washer and a “Good to see you, mate.”
I said, I didn’t care if he had a wife, stay, relax, but he got out my door as fast as he bloody well could. He knocked things over on the way, literally. The empty washing basket. The umbrella stand by the front door.
I text him that I had a good time.
He asked me not to text him again.
Ironic, so many years later and the bush walking master is up on sex charges, but he never once invited me or Jason, to share his tent in the evenings. That wasn’t his style. Jason and I were partners, partners were encouraged, because we used two man tents, but individual boys were encouraged too. A single boy in a two man tent, his movements weren’t so closely watched by anyone. While Jason and I were balls deep up each other, the bush walking master was inviting those single boys into his tent to sleep. “You don’t have to sleep alone,” Chris would, apparently, whisper into their shell pink ears.
Jason seemed so alive and his extended family seemed like a circus going on around him. The funny thing is that I have his parent's phone number, still. It wouldn't be so unrealistic that they haven't moved, (my parents haven't moved) they'd lived in that house for years back when I knew them.
They loved me. They thought I was funny. They were all so earthy, in their away. They called me Jason's boyfriend, even though I don't think they suspected, really. We were both kids in their eyes. I was different to them, so I was just Jason's buddy. School friend, that's how he passed us off. A skip friend. I used to stay over and sleep on the roll out bed under Jason’s bed. They'd give me Jason's phone number, most likely. They'd certainly pass mine on to him, I think.
What would happen, do you think?
What if he'd never found love? What if he was married, but had lost his love?
What if he was married... boys cheat, they all do. He'd come over to my place and fuck and feel no guilt. Guys don't feel guilt about that stuff. If it involves their cocks, they don't care about anything else, it doesn’t count. It would be different, that's all.
I live on my own. I can entertain married men easily.
I wouldn’t feel any guilt.
25/12/2015
I found Jason.
I found Jason online. I typed in Jason Farrugia and there he was, just like that. It seemed so easy. Social networking, you've got to love it.
He said he'd been meaning to look me up for ages. He wanted to catch up. That’s what he said, by return message, not 24 hours later.
We'll see.
Amy, Jason’s wife, was overseas visiting relatives. They couldn’t afford for them all to go, so just Amy and the 2 boys went, besides Jason had to work. They wouldn’t be back until February sometime.
I couldn't help but feel a little excited. A quick message back is always encouraging. I know, if somebody who I don’t want to talk to calls, I agonise over answering, and I agonise over answering, until it drifts off into the either and I don’t ever end up answering at all.
He's married with two kids. “That’s quick work,” I said. It’s only been five years, going on six.
He said he often thinks about me, wonders what I'm up to. Has wondered.
01/01/2016
He looked better than ever. He’d lost all of his puppy fat and he was now just lean and handsome.
“Yeah but you never got your arse into looking, now did you?”
“Oh Josh, it’s not going to be all of this all over again, is it?”
“All of this?”
“Me and You?”
“No.” Good thing he pulled me up on it when he did. Yeah, I’d smoked the joint walking from the car park, I got nervous having it in my pocket. I just get kind of obsessive around him. It was going to be “all of this.”
“So why did you want to have a drink?” said Jason.
“Old times,” I said. He just looked at me. I guessed at that point I hadn’t thought this through as well as I’d given myself credit for. “Why not,” I said. I held out my stubbie, Jason chinked his stubbie with mine.
“I’ve finished uni and got a job,” I said. “What about you?”
“I’ve finished uni and got a job,” he said.
“SNAP.” I said, rather louder than I intended. “They’re the same,” I followed with limply. I was nervous.
He looked alarmed. “Architecture,” he offered. That made sense, Jason was always drawing. He produced great caricatures of our classmates, teachers, celebrities. He was considered some kind of drawing genius by the faculty.
“I’m a writer,” I said.
“You were always writing at school… all those poems.”
We were like the artistic, in the true meaning of the word, smart kids, house captain, sports captain, orchestra leader, magazine editor, long time Smithton family students. My uncles on my mum’s side went to Smithton. Jason’s father and grandfather attended too. And I got to lick the school captain (Jason’s) arse and he liked it.
In fact, believe it, or not, Jason was the main instigator back then, he chased me, he put the hard word on me, quietly, in the shadows, when nobody else was around. It all started around the end of year 10. We’d been for a tour of the gold country and we were put up in twin rooms in hotels and Jason and I shared rooms. Names were being called in the lobby, when a name was read out, if anybody elected to share with that person, they just had to yell their name out. My name was read out. There was a definite deathly silence… and at the final moment, Jason Farugia was spoken. That was the very first inkling I got of the tempestuous affair that was about to follow. Nothing happened between us other than longing looks and feelings we didn’t have the first clue about, all through the gold country, but it must have ignited some spark, it must have ignited some feelings.
I said yes the beginning of year eleven, in form assembly, just like that. It went from there solidly until midway through first year of uni, for both of us. It was casual. It was sporadic. Jason started to see girls. I bet you he never told any of them that he was still having penetrative, unprotected sex with his best school buddy. I bet you he didn’t share that fact about himself. I had had hot, mindless, uninhibited, stoned sex with Jason the night before he met Amy.
I never saw Jason again after he met Amy. I didn’t see him for five years, until the two of them broke up temporarily, because of me.
“I’ve got them all stored electronically now, which one would you like to read?”
He laughed nervously.
“There’s poems in their about you,” I said. “They use your real name… and all.”
“Things change,” he said. Shrug.
“Intimate things.”
He got nervous. He started to fidget in his chair.
“You got married,” I said. “I’m still waiting for my invitation in the mail.”
“Oh Josh… sorry mate, it would have been too difficult.”
“I could have been civilised for 24 hours, so we could all share in the day.” Your best mate since prep.
“Seriously? Do you think that was ever really going to happen?”
Well, no, not seriously. It just sounded good to say it out loud. Oh Jason, seriously, do you really think I would have come to your wedding… to confront your rat-faced bride.
“After what happened,” he said.
What happened was, through absolutely no fault of my own, Jason got really drunk one night, just before he and Amy were going to get married, 01/02/2012, to be technically correct. It was a whirlwind romance, they met and married in the same year, practically. New Years day, New Years Day. They had just screwed on St Kilda beach, very early New Years day, in the after glow of it, Jason got all drunk confident and admitted to our 2 year plus affair starting at school. He said he didn’t want to have any skeletons in his past when he got married, the next day. This didn’t go as Jason had planned. He said, as soon as he had made the admission, the soft music played, the after glow cigarette delicious, just by the first expression he saw on her face, he realised he had just fucked up seriously. Stylus scratched across a LP. The cigarette stopped burning. Cold. Hard. Ash.
02/01/2012
She told her family and declared that she never wanted to see him again. That drove him into my arms for a few weeks. Ah bliss, Xmas Day. Don’t you just ache for this level of irony? They made up and the wedding was back on, a short time later. Can you guess who got the blame for being a sexually aggressive monster?
(Of course he never admitted to us sleeping with the sexually aggressive monster during the most recent time of separation, just the first time, stupid, experimenting kids. What skeletons were you talking about, Jason? This latest time, I contacted Jason as two confident, adult men for the first time, who knew exactly what they were doing, and we had wild unprotected sex, we took turns going bitch.)
01/01/2016
“You had children,” I said.
“Really, Josh,” said Jason. “Leave my kids out of this.”
“Out of what?” I asked.
“Whatever this is?”
“You’re over-thinking it, Jase,” I said. “You’re thinking too much in the past.”
“I hope so,” said Jason.
I really hadn’t thought this through at all. I didn’t want aggressively defensive Jason, I wanted no-care-in-the-world-Jason, the Jason I used to know. Fuck it! I got a buzz, would it be old fashioned to say, in my loins. Defensive Jason had angst, I could hook into that, that was sexy.
“How about it?” I asked, just like that.
“How about what?” said Jason. The emphasis was most definitely on the ‘what’.
“For old times sake, Jase,” I said. “Just to see if you’ve learned a thing or two in five years. I am guessing you have.”
He hesitated, stopped, he pulled back. I thought I’d read the situation really, really, really all wrong, for a milli second. “I’ve learned a couple of things,” said Jason. He smiled his not-a-care-in-the-world smile, the smile I remembered. That’s my boy, I thought.
The dappled light and the cool breeze in the beer garden, and the beer, led us back to my place, where Jason looked completely out of place, until I undid his trousers and sucked his cock, the same fat sausage, as ever, then I stopped noticing if he looked out of place, or not. We’d drunk far too much beer, my still small voice was saying, nee screaming, this was a really bad idea. I ignored it. That boy has a trowel on him that other boys can only dream about.
He said afterwards it meant nothing, which I have to admit, I was a little hurt by. I’d been his longest relationship so far, I deserved a little more respect than a cold face washer and a “Good to see you, mate.”
I said, I didn’t care if he had a wife, stay, relax, but he got out my door as fast as he bloody well could. He knocked things over on the way, literally. The empty washing basket. The umbrella stand by the front door.
I text him that I had a good time.
He asked me not to text him again.
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