Thursday, 27 May 2010

Rough Enough

You know when that person who thinks you are pretty special wants you to jump them; wants it, needs it. You better be able to give it your best shot, go the distance, produce the goods, make their toes curl, get them to call your name out loud.

Of course, if you are with the right person, it should all cum naturally. You know, your tail should already be wagging for them. They shouldn't have to ask, you know... nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Especially boys because, you know, we evolved that way. It is in our genes, some may say DNA, we can't help it, it is beyond our control.

Big smile.


That was cute Greek Peter, lovely Peter. Nice Greek boy. We used to work together. We’d get changed at the beginning and end of our shifts. Peter had a great arse and sexy muscular hairy legs. The front of his undies used to hang down full, whenever he’d turn and face me and chat. It was really distracting, not to look down at the kilo of sausage it looked as though he had in there.

He was sweet, too. A really nice guy. He had a lovely girlfriend who really loved him. And I think I know why, from the changing room, I’d love him too.


Where had we been that night? It was a night club, then a pub. Me, Peter and the boys from work. The drinks kept coming. The boys were all trying to out do each other with every trip to the bar. Handfuls of glasses, we did well, not dropping one.  The boys were drinking beers and the schooners just kept coming. 

We all hung out together, which I liked, me and the boys, big Davo C and handsome Davo D, Andy Stewart, Matt A, Campbell, Lincoln and, of course, Peter C.

We laughed. We talked shit and told stories. We joked. We had fun. We all got pretty pissed.


We hung out in the beer garden. Peter got me beers. Then he got me another. “I got us another beer.”

We all got drunk. Peter and I were rolling drunk as we fell out of the pub at closing time. 

We all parted saying we’d do it again some time.

Peter just naturally walked with me.

We tried to catch a taxi home to Peter’s place, but the first taxi driver drove off when we struggled to tell him where we were going.

The second taxi driver also said he wouldn’t take us. “You guys are too wasted,” he said. “You guys need to walk home to whoever’s love nest you are going to be making out in.”

“We’re not…”

“Whatever you say mate,” said the taxi driver. Then he drove off too.

“What makes him think we are fags,” says Peter. “Not that there is anything wrong with that,” he added with a smile.

“Two drunk guys looking to go home together, I guess it’s not so much of a stretch.”

“Whosever love nest,” repeated Peter. “Shheesh.”

“It’s been a good night though,” I said.

“Yeah, but, what are we going to do now?”

“I can walk to my place from here.”

“You just going to leave me here, is that what you are saying?”

“No Pete, you can come home to my love nest,” I said.

We laughed. We started walking.

“You horny Josh?” 

I was really taken aback by that. “What?”

“You horny?” 

It turned me on just hearing Peter say that. “What are you saying?”

“I get really horny when I’m drunk,” Pete slurred.

I pictured Peter in the change rooms with his jocks hanging low at the front. “Come home to my place then,” I said. Deliberately.

He smiled. “Huh?”

We can walk it from here.”

“You got beer at your place?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t certain about the beer. I could have some. I couldn’t remember exactly.

“We can drink more beer and have sex, what do you think?” Pete said wildly, but he was just pissed talking. Full of beer shit frothing up in his brain.

“First one with his pants down is the winner.”  I added, if we were making drunken claims. I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. We both laughed.

“First one with a boner gets, ah, gets, ah." Peter's eyes were drunk wild. "Gets sucked off first.” He laughed drunkenly loudly in the night air.

I’m not ashamed to say that I was getting a chub up with this conversation in the middle of the street in Carlton.

How many times had I rubbed one out think about Peter in his jocks in the change room? He’d be surprised.

We walked through the gardens. Peter was loud, laughing and calling out to anyone he could see in the distance. “I’m pissed. I’m really pissed. I’ve never been this pissed before.” He swung around a smooth trunk tree. “Weee.” Giggling like a kid.

Our woo-hoos echoed through the trees.


We made it back to my place. Peter was straight into the fridge. He got stubbies out for both of us.

Pretty soon we’d drunk the 6 pack of beer I had.

Peter found a couple of bottles of red wine I had. Soon we polished off one of them.

We were blind drunk.

Then Peter turned green and he said he wasn’t feeling great.

Pretty soon he was vomiting, all down his shirt and pants before he ever made it to the bathroom.

Then he was apologising, as I held him up against the bathroom wall.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, I drunk too much.”

“Never mind mate, but you’ve chucked up on yourself.”

“I know, I’m bad.”

“We’re gonna have to get you some clean clothes.”

“Oh Josh, what would I do without you?”

“Never mind about that,” I said. "But you’re going to have to take these off.”

“Oh Jesus, I don’t know, Josh.”

“Peter, you can’t, it stinks already.”

“You are going to have to help.”

“Okay,” I said. I held Peter by the chest against the wall. I’m going to have to undress him, I think. Wow, how many times have I thought about that?

I start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“You must mind doing this,” Peter slurred.

“What?” I said. I had the top buttons undone, I was undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt. His smooth, sculptured chest was coming into view.

“I mean, you like it, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” I pulled his shirt back over his shoulders and down his arms at the same time. “Hold you arms back.”

He laughed that drunken giggle of a laugh. “Do you think I am sexy?” His shirt fell to the floor and Peter was shirtless in front of me. And looking hot, if a little cross eyed.

“Do I think you are sexy?” I repeated. I grabbed his belt buckle and undid his belt.

He stretched his arm over his head and pouted sexy like. “This is pretty sexy, don’t you think?” I undid the top button of his jeans. “You undoing my pants.”

“I’m getting into your pants, Pete.”

“Take your shirt off.”

“What?” And before I could stop him, he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. And I was instantly shirtless.

“Now we are getting somewhere,” Peter slurred.

I pulled at his button fly and it popped open, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. “Take them off,” I said.

He pushed his jeans down his thick muscular thighs. “They’re stu… stu… stuck.” Peter giggled. “I’ve never had problems getting… er… getting… um? I’ve never had this trouble before.”

I crouched down to pull his jeans over his calves and over his feet. Suddenly I was at exactly the same height as the bulge in Peter’s undies.

Peter’s hands suddenly grabbed the top of my head. “If you tried to suck my dick I’d be too drunk to stop you, you know.”

“Lift your left foot,” I said. He did. I pulled the left leg of his jeans over his left foot.

“Oh, Josh, I like you touching me.”

“Lift your right leg.”

“Okay,” he said. “You are very demanding.” Then he had to move his balance from one leg to another and he kind of lost his balance momentarily and he fell forward 

“What are you…” doing, is what I was trying to say, but the bulge in his jocks went into my mouth as he lost his balance and momentarily I couln’t say anything.

“Sorry,” he said. He shifted his weight onto his left foot and lifted his right foot and I slipped his pants off over his right foot and he was then standing in front of me in his jocks red jocks.

I looked up at him. I could see he had chubbed up. He smiled down at me with one eye closed.

I stood up. “I think I should just get you into bed,” I said. “Do you need to go home for any reason.”

“No, I guess not,” he said.

“Come on.” And I got behind him and steered him to my bedroom. I held him up as I turned the lamp on. I manoeuvred him to my kind size bed. I pulled the doona back. “Get in.”

“Is this your bed?”

“Yes, it is,” I said. “None of the other beds are made up. I promise I won’t…”

He lurched forward kind of diving into the bed, with his sexy arse coming up in the air as he dived forward.

I undid my pants and let them drop to the floor.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

I headed into the bathroom for a piss. “With you, I am going to sleep with you.”

“I’ve never slept with a guy before.”

“Always a first time.”

I came back into the bedroom and slid into the bed next to him.

“This is a nice bed,” said Peter.

“Roll over on your side,” I said.

He rolled over facing me.

“No, the other way.”

He rolled over the other way.

I didn’t care, I was pretty drunk myself. What the fuck! I took him in my arms.

“What the…” he said.

“I wrapped my arms around his chest. “Shhhh,” I said in his ear.

“Oh.” He kind of groaned, purred. “This is nice.”

I rubbed my face in the back of his hair. “You smell nice,” I whispered. “Surprisingly.”

He pushed back against me. “This feels nice,” he whispered.

I smelt his neck. I couldn’t help myself, and I kissed his neck.

“Oh,” he groaned softly. He whispered almost inaudibly. “That feels good.

I rubbed his chest with my hand. I squeezed his nipple with my fingers.

He took my hand and slipped my finger into his mouth gently, as he ever so gently pushed his arse back against my crotch.

I rubbed his face with my hand. He turned his head sideways and I could touch the entire side of his face, his soft skin, his stubbly cheek.

He felt nice in my arms, big and strong. 

I slide my right hand down his torso and fingered the hair on his stomach and abdomen.


I woke up face down in the pillow. I rolled over. I didn’t feel good. I sat up. the room didn’t exactly spin, but it did kind of.

Peter was on the other side of the bed on his back with his mouth open, he had both his arms over his head. He looked like a cadaver.

The light was bright coming in the window, I hadn’t closed the curtains. I squinted at the day, not sure if it was just me, or if it was super bright.

I was trying to think what day it was? My mouth was dry.

“Hi,” said a voice.

I looked over and Peter was awake. 

“Hi,” I said. “How do you feel?”

“Not really sure,” said Peter. “You?”

“Yeah, okay. I think.”

“We turned it on, hey.”

“We did that, yes.”

Peter rolled over. “Fuck me, I don’t think I’m feeling that great.”

“We can’t…”

He lifted up the doona and looked at himself. “Did we have sex last night?”

“No,” I said.

“Why didn’t we have sex?” he asked.

Now, there was a question I never thought I’d hear coming out of Peter Kappas’ mouth. “I think we both drunkenly passed out."

“Pity,” he said.

“What?”

“I wanted to have sex,” he said. “I remember I was fiercely horny.”

“We were almost too drunk to hold a conversation.”

“Yeah.” He sat up. “Oh, I don’t feel so great.”

“No, me neither.”

“What time is it?”

“You wanted to have sex?”

“Yeah.”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“It’s 10am.”

“Oh.” He exhaled out his mouth in a way that made his lips vibrate. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Did you want to have sex?”

“Yeah.”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.” he looked at me and smiled.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back.

He rolled his hands over in the air in front of him, as if to say, well, there you go.

“10am, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to go home.” He exhaled and smiled wanly. “While I still can.”

He got dressed. He said no to food and drink. And he walked out the front door, saying he’d catch a taxi in the street.

“I just need fresh air and sunshine and to move myself.”

He walked to the front door. He opened it, turned to me and said cheekily, “We should get drunk again.” He smiled. “Give it another go.”

“Sure,” I said.

Then he was gone.

 

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