Two:
1. When I was in my 20s, I was going to graduate school in KY and found the rest areas along the interstates. One evening, driving up from NC, I decided to stop at one right after sundown and stretch my legs in the picnic area right next to the bathrooms.
No sooner had I left my car than several other car doors slammed and about seven or eight men, all older than me, literally ran from their cars to the picnic area, crashing through the underbrush to be the first to get to me. (I was wearing basketball shorts, the most comfortable clothing for the 10-hour drive in the dog days of summer. At the time, I was 6 feet tall and about 170 pounds and an avid bicyclist, if that says anything about my legs.) I even heard one say, complainingly, as he lost the race, “I saw him first!”
Ironically, I wasn’t even thinking about sex, just walking off the stiffness from sitting in a car for too long. The hustle and bustle scared me at first but then tickled my sense of humor.
So I said to the first guy who got to me, “You won! You get a gold star. Have a wonderful evening.” And walked back to my car, cranked it quickly, and left out of there like I’d forgotten something.
As I left, my car windows down, I heard the same complaining voice say, “Y’all scared him off, dammit!”
Sure did, I thought. Even if I’d been interested in getting my dick sucked, I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it anywhere near that godawfully desperate crowd.
2. Much later in life, my man and I were at Haulover Beach in Miami for Christmas. We’d only been before in August or early September, so I wasn’t ready to be naked in 70-degree weather, particularly as the sun was about to go down and the wind off the water was starting to rise. I get cold quickly, so I found myself having to wrap up in all our towels and clothes just to stay warm.
Some younger, bitchier gay guys arrived right after I’d slipped into a warm, comfortable doze, my man out in the water enjoying the swim. I soon realized they were talking trash about someone for not being “brave” enough to be naked at a clothing-optional beach—and that someone was me!
So I raised up on my elbows and said, “Hey! I can hear you!”
Amusingly, they kept going, now saying things like “he said he can hear you” and “did he really say that” and so forth. Very grade-school, immature stuff. So when my muscular, hairy, big-uncut-cocked man came back from swimming, I said loudly, “Do you see those gossipy guys over there? They actually had the gall to criticize me for wrapping up at a clothing-optional beach!” My man, no dummy, said back equally loudly, “Stupid, aren’t they? Isn’t wearing something an option at a clothing-optional beach?”
Other more mature guys, some clothed, some not, then joined in and told those immature guys to mind their own damned business. One even said, “It’s cold as hell and he’s warm and comfy. Your teeth are chattering. Who’s the smart one here?”
They soon slunk away, shamefaced.
NCbear (who finds humor in as many things as possible every day)