History: The Great Outdoors

 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.