Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2013 07:31:55 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills:  43. Young Man With A Hardon

			  Young Man With A Hardon

Today I'm remembering a fun time at the beach in the 1980s.  Late in the
summer--like early September; late in the day-- like about 4:30 p.m. It was
on an overcast weekday at a clothes-optional Long Island beach.

It's practically deserted.  I'm lying next to the storm fence that protects
the dunes.  Totally naked, I enjoy the feeling of freedom and the warm
breeze.  A short distance away is another guy, older, looking nervous and
excited-- probably his first time here.  He's maybe sixty years old, white
hair, tall.  He's wearing a clinging chartreuse bathing suit, which does
not look great on him since he's got a considerable spare tire that hangs
down and causes the top of the suit to roll.

And now what's this?  Along the sand a young guy is sauntering.  Small,
thin, wearing a teeny tiny white bathing suit.  Looking at me and at the
older man, and heading over our way.  Halfway there, he stops, strips off
his suit, and smiling, continues to walk toward us, twirling his bathing
suit.  He looks to be about 23 years old, cute, lots of dark curly hair,
delicate features.

He heads toward where I'm reclining on my beach towel.  As he approaches,
he plays with his cock, which quickly becomes very hard and is now standing
at about a 120 degree angle.

"What's happening?" he wants to know.  We begin to make small talk.  I
stand up.  The older guy is watching it all with much interest, and he
starts to move toward us.  He also removes his suit, his dick is starting
to stir; I'm about half up, and rising.  As the three of us stand in a
circle it's clear this young dude likes older men and is looking for a
scene with both of us.  We look around, nobody in sight.  We begin to touch
playfully.

The young guy reaches over and gropes me.  He murmurs an approving
appraisal of my cock.  He smiles at the other man who is breathing heavily
and has a little twitch near his mouth.  His dick, however, fails to
display this degree of enthusiasm.  It has filled out and is no longer
resting on his ballsack, but has not hardened as much as his apparent
excitement would predict.  The young guy is relaxed and smiling widely now.
His cock is practically brushing his stomach.  The heavy breather with the
gut leans over and examines it carefully with his hand.  I feel the kid
after Pops relinquishes the tool.  My eyes and the young guy's eyes are
drilling each other.  He tweaks one of my nipples, and then rubs it hard
between his thumb and index finger until it begins to hurt.  I move back a
little.

"Where can we go?" says the friendly young fellow.  "Back in the dunes,"
replies Pops, leading the way.  I hesitate, consider, decide to pass.  I
smile and wave them off.  The two men, separated by more than 30 years,
wander into one of the paths leading into the dunes.


I lie down again.  About 15 minutes later, I start to get chilly, and sit
up to prepare to leave.  Curious about my new friends who have not
returned, I decide to wander into the dunes to see what I can see.  No sign
of them.  I return and walk back to my towel. As I do, I notice a female
Ranger on horseback riding slowly toward me.  I sit and look away.  She
comes over and says, "What were you doing in the dunes?"  Oh shit.  Am I
going to get in trouble without even having had the pleasure of getting
off? I think.

"Nothing.  I had to urinate so I went back there to try, but I couldn't
anyway."  The Ranger delivers a stern environmental lecture, as well as a
talk about how they plan to construct restrooms closer to the National Park
area next year.  I am, of course, very polite, and she finally leaves.  My
dick has shrunk into my scrotum, and I start to dress.

I start to walk back to the dressing room/showers about a mile west.  On
the way, a young tourist catches up with me and asks about the Ranger.  He
had observed the interrogation and was curious.  I give him a brief and
truthful version of what had ensued.  The tourist is interested and
non-judgmental.  Making it clear that he's straight (referring repeatedly
to his girlfriend who will be joining him that afternoon) he says that it's
nice to hear that people are still having sex in the dunes.  He apologizes
for being all covered up.  I realize that he is indeed all covered up,
looking like some sort of Lawrence of Arabia cum Fire Island, with a big
brimmed hat and loose khaki shirt and slacks.  He explains that he's
allergic to sunlight and must be very careful.  As we walk along together
the tourist gapes openly at the few nude and semi-nude bodies we pass.  He
comments enthusiastically about the females, and wishes there were more.
We both agree that the flesh show should improve later in the week if the
weather improves.  The tourist certainly hopes so.  He's booked for a week
at a guesthouse a few miles east of the nude beach.  We arrive at the
bathhouse which houses the dressing rooms, showers, toilets and umbrella
rental concession.  We part, exchanging good wishes.

I enter the shower area and guess who's there?  Right. Young Mr. Hardon.  I
smile.  The young man sort of ignores me, having given up on me as a
hopeless tease. We shower and then I follow the lad out to the parking lot.

I walk over to him, and tell him how he made the afternoon worthwhile and
how I'm going to think about him as I fuck my wife.  The kid smiles and
starts to thaw.  We go into the young guy's car. (How did this young man
get this new expensive car?  Must be a spoiled college student with
indulgent parents.)  I look around.  No other occupied cars in the area.
We start to play around.

I raise the kid's tanktop and play with his nipples.  Then I unzip the fly
on his shorts.  The dude sits passively, enjoying the attention.  His
shorts get lowered, he cooperatively raising his ass.  A little tight here
in the front seat-- not too much room to maneuver.  In a flash, the kid's
dick is hard again.  I wonder if he got off earlier with the older guy.

I play with the young cock appreciatively, and take out mine for the boy to
reciprocate.  The kid is enjoying the way my foreskin moves up and down.  I
ask if he has played with many like that.  The boy shrugs noncommittally.
In the US sighting a natural cock had become somewhat rare.  But with the
influx of latinos into Manhattan from Central and South America and from
the Caribbean, it became more common to encounter uncut dicks in Manhattan
cruising spots and on strippers/dancers who work the bars and sex shows.

The maybe-college student pulls the hair on my chest playfully and comments
on it.  I provide honest flattery about his charms and he loves it.  I
tickle the kid's balls, and start to massage the area behind them.  The kid
closes his eyes and moans a little.  (Is he acting?)  The boy clutches his
dick, which is big for his size, and begins to hit it on the bottom of the
steering wheel.  This surprises and fascinates me.  It also turns me on. It
is an image that I will remember months later.

"Take me home, daddy, and fuck me."  What a very nice invitation.  But not
one that I can accept. Actually, even if I had a safe place, or this young
dude did (he probably lives with his folks) I would not follow through.  I
know that but like to kid myself and entertain the notion, and also I want
to let this nice young guy down easy.

"Sorry, baby, I would really love to fuck you bowlegged but it can't
happen.  Can't do it today."

The disappointment on the boy's face warms my macho heart.