By twenty-nine years of age, Max had worked in four of Australia's states and one of its territories. He had worked in mines, on farms, aboard boats and had even completed a two year stint as an interstate truckie. Having left school at sixteen, his total length of employment thus totaled a rather impressive thirteen years.

It was time for a break. One of his mate's from his days on a trawler up North had moved to Brisbane and, upon hearing that Max's notoriously restless nature seemed to be crying for a rest, had suggested the city. After briefly considering the pros and cons of such a move, Max handed in two weeks notice to his employer and started counting down his last fortnight of employment as a bobcat operator.

Saying good-bye to New South Wales wasn't difficult. He was sick of the yuppies and the cold, not to mention the landlord of the boarding house where he'd been lodging. The wizened old Italian woman hated Australians, men and homosexuality, which had put Max in a rather precarious situation, given that he was Australian, male and homosexual. There had been countless mornings where she'd flung open the door under the guise of an inspection, only to be 'horrified' ('Oh my God! What a disgrace!) to find her youngest boarder stretched out, nude, alongside another man. Max had no idea why he'd stayed with such a homophobic old cow. Perhaps it was the sadistic side of his nature. There was, after all, something undeniably amusing about the way she'd rant and rave in her mother tongue, all the while wildly waving her walking stick in the air.

He drove to Brisbane over three days, sleeping in the back of his ute at night and staring up at the sky, pleased with the solitude. The widen open space was in stark contrast to his new home; a small, one-bedroom brick unit with a tiny courtyard. Arriving at his new home, he was almost tempted to run away, back out to the bush, where he had room to move. Brisbane had obviously grown in the seven years since he'd last visited.

After unpacking his belongings and overseeing the delivery of his new bed, kitchen table, fridge and washing machine, he headed directly to Target for cutlery, crockery and bedding. It was nine o'clock before he'd completed the move and only then did he take the opportunity to inspect his new surroundings. His unit was one of three in the block and it showed signs of a half-hearted refurbishment. The floors were newly tiled and carpeted, the walls freshly painted and the grouting in the bathroom was white and free from mould. The kitchen had obviously been left to last, and then forgotten, as the benches and cupboards sported a lime green laminate coating reminiscent of the seventies. His courtyard was situated in between the two other tenants' courtyards and was nothing but a small patch of sparse dry grass. Decaying six foot wooden fences separated the yards and weeds grew along the boundaries, wild and unchecked.

Exhausted, Max ate half a pizza and drank three beers in front of his television – the one object he'd always refused to part with, even temporarily – before climbing in between his new, crisp, sheets and falling into a deep slumber.

Mordie eyed his new neighbour suspiciously as the man hung out a load of washing. He didn't like newcomers. He'd been a resident here for nearly eighteen months and this was the third person to move into unit two. The first two residents had been students at the local university, loud and loaded with parental money, with no qualms about weeknight parties. Mordie, who had no interest in higher education and a weekday job, had avoided the men whilst quietly bemoaning their lack of consideration for their neighbours.

Mordie's gaze moved to his neighbour's bare back. The man's shoulders were broad and tanned and covered with freckles and they tapered down to a waist, hips and ass that were to die for. His boardies were hanging a little too low, exposing a flash of lighter skin and an image of himself, carefully working those shorts lower and lower, flashed into Mordie's mind. His mouth became dry and his cock stirred.

Suddenly, his new neighbour turned. A smile broke over the newcomer's face, revealing straight white teeth, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. 'Hello.'

'Uh, hello,' Mordie replied, his voice cracking with mortification. 'Did you move in?'

'Yeah. Disappointed?' His neighbour laughed.

Mordie fumbled for the right answer.

'Um, not really,' he replied eventually. His face was burning. 'Nice to meet you.'

'Yeah, you too,' came Max's distant reply as he watched his peculiar new neighbour scurry back inside.

Simon was an exhibitionist by nature and his close contact with his neighbours only heightened the thrill. He knew that one day he'd grow old and his body would become unfit for public display, but at twenty-three, he had the sort of build that was well worth displaying. His package was equally impressive.

Unlike his neighbours, he was happily heterosexual. He admired breasts. He's rather lick than suck. There was, quite simply, nothing more enjoyable to him than a soft warm female body shamelessly riding him as he lay on the deck chair in his tiny courtyard.

It was therefore something of a disappointment to him that his new neighbour was so obviously queer. He preferred straight or bisexual neighbours, men whose jaws would slacken and eyes would become wide at the sight of his exhibitionist antics.

Simon somehow suspected his new neighbour wouldn't be too interested in the show he was more than willing to provide. Already he'd given Simon's latest main girlfriend, Samantha, only the most cursory of glances, despite Samantha's deliciously short skirt. It was irritating. He hadn't moved into such a cramped residence for the fun of it.

'Stupid gay men,' Simon muttered irritably as he buttered his morning toast.

'Who's gay?' Samantha inquired, her interest piqued.

'Him,' Simon gestured with a nudge of his head in Max's direction. The half-naked man was hanging out washing on the two, strung, rows of wire that bordered the edge of his courtyard. The courtyard that just happened to be next to Simon's.

Samantha looked doubtful. 'I don't think so.'

'I think so,' Simon replied confidently. 'Trust me. When you're as well sexed as me baby, you know these things.'

He reached for his girlfriend's breasts, squeezing them through the powder blue tank top she was wearing. Her nipples hardened beneath the fabric and he laughed raucously.

Slapping his hands away, Samantha frowned, took her boyfriend's toast and conducted her own examination of the new man. He had shaggy, sun-bleached hair and his eyes looked to be a dark brown. There was stubble on his darkly tanned face and his torso was more than a little inviting.

'What do you think?' Simon inquired, following her gaze.

Samantha flushed. 'He's alright.'

An evil grin spread over Simon's face. 'Just alright? It looks to me as though you think he's more than just alright.'

Samantha's flush deepened. 'Shut-up.'

Simons' second favourite hobby was teasing his girlfriends. It amused him to watch them flush red and whack him over the arm as their embarrassment became too much for them. If truth be told, their feminine reactions turned him on.

Reaching out to his girlfriend, he gently stroked her face by way of an apology. 'You're beautiful.'

'No, I'm not. I only look average.'

That wasn't the case as far as Simon saw things. Samantha was a voluptuous woman with an hourglass figure and the combination of large breasts and hips and small waist was everything he could ever want. Her hair was dark and lustrous and her lips were the sort that made him think immediately of oral sex.

Ignoring her self-esteem issues – come on, this woman had public sex with him, how could she genuinely be worried about her looks? - he gently tugged her tank top down, easing out her breasts. His mouth paid homage to them for a few minutes whilst he awkwardly removed his pants with the aid of only one hand. His erection was hard against against his stomach and he stroked it comfortingly, as though telling his genitals it wouldn't be long before they were encased in Samantha's tight, warm, pussy.

The scent of his girlfriend's lust filled his nostrils as he stood, naked, before her, and he moved his hands to her skirt, pushing it up around her waist. Her panties were ripped off, revealing a neat patch of curly hair, her liquid causing the lower ones to glisten in the morning light.

As something of an afterthought, Simon's gaze flickered out the window, and he realised his new neighbour could not only see him through the gap created by two, adjoining, missing fence palings, but was watching. Closer inspection revealed his new, gay, neighbour had half an erection.

Was it possible that he wasn't gay and that Simon had misjudged? No, he assured himself, he had the best gaydar in Brisbane, a fact that had been confirmed before he'd exited his teens.

Simon threw his head back and laughed, before dragging Samantha to the floor, out of sight of his neighbour. The man's interest had been piqued, and Simon now knew with the knowledge borne out of experience that the man would never again sit in his courtyard without first glancing over to see if they were making love.

The knowledge imbued in him a smug, satisfied feeling.

Kazza, if you're reading this, please upload C1 to fp and I'll read it there. I can't empty my inbox - it's a webmail screw-up. Nor can I do anything on lj, which seems to be 'read only' every time I go on it growls