1991- 1994
I was determined to find the gay beach at
Saugatuck. The village on Lake Michigan
had always been an artist colony with welcoming non-conformists. It had, and still has, a large gay population
in the summer as men flee the cities for the shore.
I know my brother had mentioned the beach early on,
but I know he didn’t give me specifics—and it was harder to ask him, in this
pre-texting age, as he was now living in NYC.
My Damron Guide told me it existed, but not how to access it. In a move that was brave for me at the time,
I just went, assuming I could find it.
My first stop was at Oval Beach, the public park. I sunned and watched. Men were all over this area—but so were
families. I walked the dunes behind the
parking lot. Nothing sexual there—and it
was too close to the family beach. I
went back to my towel. I saw men
trooping north along the shoreline. Was
that the answer? I was too unsure to follow
them—and I had run out of time that day and needed to head home. I rolled my clothes up in my towel and went
to the car in my red and white Speedo.
As I was unlocking the door, I heard a voice: “Now, you are a man who should always wear a
Speedo.”
I turned. A gorgeous
man, in his thirties was standing there.
He had long hair that was incredibly curly. He wore a Speedo as well—and it showed
everything. He looked like he stepped
out of a surfing magazine. We
chatted. He assumed I’d been at the gay
beach. I told him I’d looked for it but
wasn’t sure where it was. He confirmed
that you went north. “Make sure you walk
as close to the water as possible so that the people who own that house you can
kinda see in the dunes can’t say you’re trespassing. The beach is next. You’ll see an old guy in a chair and he’ll
want five dollars. Pay him and go back
into the dunes.”
I thanked him.
He asked if I wanted to come back to his motel. I declined, as I really did have to head
home.
It was agony to wait the two weeks until, with my busy
summer schedule, I had another Saturday off.
But I went back and followed the hot guy’s instructions. I gave the ‘old guy’ (he was likely 45!) my
crisp five-dollar bill. He smiled and
told me to have fun. I watched the men ahead
of me go a couple of hundred yards father down the beach until they went into
the dunes. I followed their example. Once there, I could see a path in the long
grass growing in the sand. I made it up
to the top. A hot man was lying on his
blanket—totally naked and browned by the sun, his large cock plumped but not
hard, lolling to the side of his hairy balls.
He didn’t even open his eyes as I passed.
I went down the dune and up the next. Less vegetation now. I found a spot, away from the path and unrolled
my towel. I had my lunch, a book, some
suntan lotion and a water bottle. I was
set. I stripped down and sprawled on the
towel. I loved how the sun felt on my
cock, but soon I smeared it with lotion, so as not to burn.
All these years later, I don’t know if anything else
happened that day. I know I watched men go down over the third set of dunes
into a wooded area. I guessed that that
was where the horny guys went in search of each other. I likely took a tour—but I’m sure I didn’t
play. I had my condoms, but oral sex
seemed to be (logically) the order of the day and I wasn’t sure what I was ready
to do. This was the early days of HIV—and
we just didn’t know much yet.
Over the summers I went there, I do remember often joining
two guys who were going at it. I would
lick balls and nipples and stroke dicks.
Occasionally the Magnums came out—but I never wanted to ask a guy to
suck with a condom on, but if they suggested it, sure. Occasionally, I fucked. It sounds so mild now—but it was where my
head was then. And what I had promised Rob.
There is one more thing that happened in the dunes. I was lying on the top of the third set of
dunes, a little way from the main path.
I had been a number of times that summer and actually had a tan. I had watched for a moment two men having sex
on their blanket before I settled into my space. I was still hard. Suddenly there they were, standing on either side
of me, still naked, with sated cocks swaying.
“Well look at you.
You sure liked what you saw…”
I nodded and started to say something about being
sorry if I intruded. I didn’t get out
more then a couple of words before the other guy said, “It looks like you need
to be cooled down…”
And they both began to piss on me. I have mentioned a guy that Rob and I pissed
on, but I had never been the recipient.
They aimed at my cock. They were
beer drinkers—and had huge loads. My
cock had gone down a little when I sensed trouble, now it sprang to a hardness
that surprised me. One stream left my
cock and started up my chest, just shy of my face. I touched my cock—and I shot a huge load.
They laughed good naturedly as their streams dwindled. I loved lying there in the baking sun,
letting the piss and cum dry naturally.
I knew I had to find out more about piss play…
*
My main job kept me in Michigan from February to
September. I had the fall to job out. I often went to Nashville, either to act or
direct. I loved the change of venue. If I was in the show, once it was open, I had
tons of free time during the day. Quite near
the dinner theatre was a huge park. I often
went there. I would read at a picnic
table or a remote bench near a trail.
Once, though it was fall in Michigan, it was still a hot summer in
Tennessee, I sunbathed in my Speedo on the side of a hill.
A car drove past.
It came back. And again. It parked down by the set of restrooms, but
in my line of sight. Soon a large, corpulent
man came puffing up the hill. He’d tied
his shirt so his hairy belly hung out and he had somehow squeezed himself into a
pair of white short shorts. He began
walking in huge circles around me, nodding at me when he was in my vision. The circle soon spiraled, so he was closer
and closer to me. Finally, he lumbered up to my side, panting. “Sure is hot out.”
I agreed. He
walked away, repeating his mantra. The
next time he passed me, he had pulled the short shorts up—and exposed his
miniscule uncut cock. When I didn’t
immediately jump up and pull him into the woods, he stomped back down to his
car.
I sighed, but also smiled. The light bulb had gone off that cruising
happened here.
I soon recognized the guys that stayed in their cars, relentlessly
driving the back half of the park. The
more successful ones got out a pavilion and sat ready to talk. Down by the river, I found men sucking. They stopped dead, deer in the headlights. I quickly showed my cock; I was not a cop
undercover. They resumed and I
approached, helping out by twisting the nipples of the guy getting head as he
held onto my big dick.
I cruised there often, over the 1990’s. I didn’t like the trails in the hills as you
often ran into straight couples. Down by
the river was our territory.
One time, I came late in the last light of evening as
there was no show that night. It was clear
when I arrived, but clouds were gathering fast.
Just as I decided to leave my picnic table under the pavilion, the rain
started. A down pour. I was not about to head to my car, even
parked a few feet away.
I saw headlights coming towards me down the long twisting
road to get to this spot. They parked
directly in front of me—headlights in my face.
They snapped off and a cute guy got out and made the dash to under the
shelter.
We chatted. We
both knew why we were here. He made the first
move. His hand landed on the bulge in my
501’s.
“Nice.” he
smiled. “Tell me that you’re a top and
love to fuck.”
“I am top who loves to fuck. But with Magnums.”
“Perfect.” And he
pulled a string of them out, too.
“Where?” I asked.
“Right here is great.
We can see anyone approach long before they get here. And it is hours before the rangers start
patrolling.”
I wasn’t sure.
But my dick was. I opened my
pants and he lost his clothes. He had a
wonderfully smooth ass. I ached to lick
that hole, but I didn’t. He lay on the
table, legs in the air, ass at the end so I could stand. I fingered his hole, getting him slippery
with lube. I suited up, lubed up and
slid in.
“Slow…oh my God…Yes!”
His cock erected and he began to jerk it. I began to fuck. Slowly.
I wanted this to last. I varied
the tempo. He talked dirty and told me
how he loved my dick.
“Well, well…”
I was a voice behind us. I pulled out of him fast. Another handsome man in a waterlogged cowboy
hat was there, dripping wet.
“What the hell?” said the bottom.
“I walked in so you wouldn’t stop if you saw my truck.” He was stripping as he talked. His wet clothes were tossed on another
table. He was hard and ready. “Keep fucking him,” he told me.
The hot scene suddenly caught fire. Cowboy Hat offered his cock to get
sucked. The bottom hungrily took him as
I slid into him once more. Cowboy Hat
saw the condoms and nodded his approval.
I pushed my lube towards him as he suited up.
I pulled out the moment he was ready to go. Cock two, almost as big, slipped into the
willing bottom. I ripped off the condom
so I could jerk with more feeling. As
Cowboy Hat slowed down, I re-lubed and rolled a fresh piece of latex down my shaft. C H pulled out and I fucked into the hot
ass. The bottom groaned. C H turned my head and kissed me passionately,
making me fuck harder.
We kept trading off. It was glorious and so unexpected.
“Where do you want my cum?” Cowboy Hat panted.
“Chest.”
The burly guy pulled out, stripped the rubber off his
cock and shot a massive load. I went
back up the bottom’s ass. Working it
hard. “Jerk with me,” I instructed. He did—and he was close. I pulled out, unsheathed as I stepped to his
side and splatted a huge load on his chest—the first spurt hitting his
chin. This made him cum, too. We sat there, the rain still coming down in
torrents. We all grinned foolishly at
each other…not believing the stroke of luck we’d just had.
To clean up, the bottom stepped out in the rain. He dried himself with his tee-shirt and got
dressed. Nobody wanted to leave.
And then we saw it.
The headlights winding our way. With
the distance we had the chance to pick up the shitload of condoms we’d used and
get them in a trash can. The lube was in
my pocket. We looked like three friends
enjoying the quiet, but wet night.
The ranger arrived.
He’d seen Cowboy Hat’s vacant truck.
“You know the park closes in about an hour?” he reminded us. He looked at us again. Was it a smirk? Or a smile…
“Take care.” And
he was gone.
We sat another moment before taking off. All of us knew we’d just lucked into
something really special…
*
The gay beach was sold and closed by the 2000’s. Around that same time, they built an
elementary school near the cruising end of the Nashville park. And no one went there to cruise.
