It was, to quote that famous Australian poet A B (Banjo) Paterson, ‘On a road seldom crossed ‘cept by folks that are lost.’ It sat baking in the hot sun for six months of the year, while for the other six months you freeze your tits off overnight, when the temperature drops to freezing, and you barely thaw out during the day. In the middle of town, on the main and only street, sits a General Store complete with Garage and Workshop and the Johnson’s Creek pub. I preside over this fine establishment 24/7, mainly because it doesn’t make enough for me to afford a holiday, and there is no-one prepared to run the show if I did get away for a while. There is another street just up the road where the old rail siding sits rusting, that heads six hundred kilometres to somewhere else, The name over the front door told the world that I was David James Roberts, Publican, but to the people around here I was Dave, or Davo, depending on who you were. This was a ‘boom and bust’ business. The boom. I was embarrassed and I went red in the face. I tried to pretend it was nothing unusual.“I could hardly miss it,” I said, “it nearly poked me in the eye!”That made him laugh and it seemed to take the tension out of the moment. He just sat back and covered himself up; rather awkwardly, I thought. Eventually, the game reached a stalemate, with me landing on Mayfair or Park Lane and him landing on my orange and red sets every time he came out of Jail. But after catching a glimpse of his stiff todger, my heart wasn’t really in the game and I readily conceded it to him and we soon settled down to sleep.Lying there, thinking about last night, I couldn’t get Michael’s sticky nocturnal ejaculation out of my mind. Tonight was the last night of his visit and I was hoping for a repeat performance of the previous night’s excitement. That vision of Michael’s stiff and glistening penis shooting its white fluid into my hand under the bedclothes was taunting my mind and I couldn’t stop thinking.
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