Color
Background color
Background image
Border Color
Font Type
Font Size
  1. upload_2020-7-28_7-28-39.jpeg

    Here on the shore is a developing connection between the sea and I…well, truth be told between a boat and I and together we dance with the sea. I am an open water rower, and have a boat that is old yet new to me just a little less than a week now. And so we are still in the getting-to-know one another stage. Each day I get a little more familiar with her peculiarities and she with mine and we are finding how to work best together. Mornings are our best times. This morning, after writing these words, she and I will go out.



    Today the seas are not calm and not rough. A middling of fairly disorganized chop, barely any wind, and a glowing golden dawn. And so I will once again guide and be guided as we glide across the surface of the Sound and have adventures, usually involving a visit to Tuxis Island, inhabited by a rookery of gull and cormorants, who, like fog horns, announce the proximity to the island’s granite faced banks and allow me to circumnavigate the place as the adolescents arc over me not sure what I am offering, food or threat. Their chorus imminently useful as we will be remembering I am in a single scull and inconveniently facing backwards, which offers a great vantage over the wide expanse of where I have been, some peripheral skills for the immediate future but alas, little foresight of where I am actually going.



    Her name is Buoy Boat, aptly named as the experience of her ride is less racing shell and more of a bobbing along on top of the perky waves, more bronco rider than racing jockey. Despite these quirks of design I am falling in love.
  2. Photo on 7-11-20 at 10.15 AM #3.jpeg
    So, for the first time in many many years I have the summer off. No commitments really to speak of. And so I am headed for the shore. My extended family have had a place since before I was born and I am going to be there as usual, but rather than the occasional weekend or week, for the duration of the summer.

    I grew up on this beach. Summers, especially in adolescence, being in the posse that was made up of my cousins, my brothers, and the kids in our immediate neck of the woods. We all learned how to swim together, sail, body surf, and the art of blue crabbing. We also entered into the territory of sexual activity together, and so many crushes. Mostly on my part with the older guys home from college for the summer. They were all so happy in their own skin. Unlike me at the time, gawky and awkward as I was growing taller than I could keep up. My middle school years punctuated by a chronic sense of confusion.

    This year, as I am spending so much time there, I took the leap and purchased a single rowing open water shell. It's a beat up old girl, not the prettiest boat on the water, yet I am thrilled. A nice 20 foot Alden Martin.

    In anticipation of doing some serious open water rowing I have been training hard. And that, too, has been a real source of pleasure (although it is kicking my ass). To have something to focus on, to look forward to each day.

    This is all a way for me to dig even a little deeper into my jock self...with discipline and consistencey. This brings me such a deep sense of calm. I don't get fussed if I post a less than great time, or have to pause and rest mid-set...I am not competing so much as conditioning. And I feel so much more grounded and in my body and just overall settled. This is in the midst of some enormously unattractive upheavals in my work life (my business imploded and I am in a forced early retirement) so much disfunction and drama in the world, and the challenges we all must face about the future. So I am super grateful to be able to do this.

    So many of those guys are gone but some remain, and we will hang out (at social distance)...in a funny way I feel like I am going home. It is a place I belong. The house, the town, the beach and the place I find myself physically are all feeling like home. And I need that now. And I am happy in my own skin. Labor Day will come barreling along soon enough.
  3. So I just finished my first naked row of the year...so awesome being able to work out naked. Such a privilege and I do not take it for granted. Anyway I am starting a new program today...something I heard about on a blog I have been following. It's a close group of men that challenge each other and hold each other accountable to one another. I had to pledge in and everything. It seems pretty intense. One thing I have vowed: I will not hide in this group of men. I won't be a pervert, but I won't be hiding either. For it is precisely the connection between my cock and my bate and being a man that I want to truly strengthen. But I also want to overcome some fears...I want to learn how to fight. I mean really fight. Well. And I want to learn how to cam...I think it is important for me to get over my sense of stage fright (I know can you believe it?)...

    And to continue to cut away at my false self...wherever I come across it.

    So I will let you all know how that goes. I took this picture today as I try to put up a new profile picture every New Years Day on my Bateworld profile...I was struck after editing it at my expression...didn't know I was
    doing that with my mouth...but it captures one of my resting faces. It's an expression that usually comes across my face when I m about do to do something, well, certainly unwise...LOL...it is like I am about to say "watch this!!" my favorite famous last words....

    Happy New years LPSG community guys and gals....
    BWprofpci2020HARD.jpg
    You, Platinumage, Crazera76 and 18 others like this.
  4. As you can tell if you have stumbled across my profile and pics on here, I am not really a shy guy. And while I identify as a solo sexual (which as controversial as it is, remains the truest identifier in the sexual department), I am definitely into other guys.


    Always have been since I was a kid…and it’s really a holistic kind of attraction. I enjoy just hanging playing pool, hiking, all kinds of sports (playing) and sometimes even going to sporting events. Especially if a buddy is actually competing.


    But I wanted to write about a particular aspect of my interactions with guys. My love of being a provocateur. NOT like Milo Yiannopoulos, and hopefully less annoying. I like to get other guys aroused…no matter what their sexual preference…I don’t care…I just like to get their engines running. I have no idea why. Form of connection maybe? Not sure, but it is a turn on. So I guess I am kinda a pornographer deep down inside. I want to find out how a guy ticks and then feed him relentlessly.


    It’s seduction in a way, although I am not necessarily needing to be the object of his lust…that can be cool though…especially if it’s not his usual thing (another guy)…such a turn on.


    And I definitely don’t have to have anything to do with resolving his desire to cum everywhere…so in a sense I am a classic flirt. But once in a while I like to hang out somewhere dark and cruddy where there are video booths in the back and get guys off…rarely but it happens. Get used. Like a dutiful wingman taking care of it because it’s uncomplicated and feels good. Serving a guy’s carnal needs.

    come hang out bro.jpg
    You, GA_770_Dad, Aphradight and 15 others like this.
  5. I have been thinking a lot about this lately. It’s a personal thing that seems foreground right now.

    So I guess I’ll start with a confession of sorts, or an acknowledgement more like it: This is a LOT about ego, a lot about body shame, a good deal of it is rooted in resisting getting older (and invisible).

    Also too, I presume to know my audience…and that some of you might identify with some of this and do me the honor of replying either in the comments or privately…

    Be sure I don’t SUFFER this as much as it nags at me.

    I am in my sixties and it sometimes feels like it. But most of the time I am just me, like I have been for decades and decades. I can wear the same jeans, the same shoes, the same swimsuits…maybe a bit of a change in the eagerness to get into designer underwear and such…but it’s more an issue of not wanting to be ‘that guy’. You know, the one who is OBVIOUSLY old enough to be a grandad to the kids at the_______[insert here: party, bbq, bar, nightclub, tailgate, Super Bowl party] who is tragically insistent on trying to wear whatev Timothée Chalamet is sporting and is SO oblivious to the fool he is making of himself. PLEASE STOP ME if you ever see me do that on here or anywhere.

    As time has evolved I have become quite the amateur athlete (have talked some about that) and so bucking the trend of my peers a bit…but it is a very private activity….not a lot of people know I am such a committed rower…it is really what I like to do in my spare time.

    But recently I have noticed that I am NOT ok with the way I look when I catch myself in the reflection of a window on the street, or worse, see a pic someone took of a group of us at some place…I look nothing like the way I think I look. My self image is nothing like the real thing.

    This has now gotten to the point where it is bugging me enough that I am super determined to get the real me closer to the self image me.

    Now here is the rub: how much of this is pathetic.? Is it something I should just give in to? Try to come to terms with? I mean it’s not like I am unable to do any of the stuff I am now engaged in during my shred: weights, rowing a ton, eating cauliflower and kale, and resisting sugar and caffeine….

    Because I actually want to look at myself, take pics for this site and others and LIKE what I see, actually truth be told, get turned on by what I see.

    And let me stress: I am not in a place of hating what I see in the mirror, it’s more like that wince you do when you hear a recording of your own voice and it is NOTHING like your voice….but FUCK! That is what people have been listening to all this time!

    One more thing about this. I touched on the invisible thing. It sucks to know that no one sees you. This is not something I can change by the way I look, or act, but it does matter that I let it matter. The better I feel about myself the less it seems to happen. So I wonder how much a positive self image (or lack thereof) has to do with the sense that you are undesirable, unnoticeable, even a bit repellent?

    I know I can’t control what other people think of me. Trust me, been down that road. But I can and must work on how I think of me. It is an inside job. And then there's that idea or approach that I have to be the best steward to the body that I have...be kind to it...feed it well...change the oil every 5000 miles.

    To wrap up I am on a rowing team. There is one guy who is just 100,000 meters ahead of me throughout the season…I bird dog him every season…he’s 74…and the best season distance on the team? 75 years old and has done 5 times the meters I have done this season. So I am in their wake…and that keeps me from thinking I am getting too old for this shit. It actually makes me so proud to be on their team! And they’re mentors of course…and kick my ass into gear….All important roles to have someone in by my reckoning.

    shred.jpeg
    newton40, aldawg, nicnic and 4 others like this.
  6. I wrote this in response on another site and thought I would post it here as well as it fairly well describes a dynamic that comes with my workout that most of you will likely identify with (if not think obvious)

    I have no desire to live to 120, and my mortality is something I think I have come to accept, but will never know for sure until the moment comes...we are dealt the hands we are dealt...Greg is an example of how to include the new material in the current assessment and move on...

    I row on an erg. (kinda a lot). and I do 10-20 K a day. I used to run before I started rowing about 10 years ago. Both running and rowing there comes a point...a place...sometimes quickly in the set sometimes later on...when suddenly...almost overwhelmingly...my mind says STOP....and the ways it says that is telling me that I am in pain...but I have come to recognize that it is not the same as when my BODY says stop...that is completely different. And I have somehow come to recognize when it's my mind and am able to hear that and continue rowing. Now if my body says stop I STOP. Usually it's something fairly serious like dehydration or heat related.

    When I row through the mind signal telling me to stop, like running a red light in a way, it stops...fades...and a few strokes further I get into that place all rowers (and runners) love...a place of seemingly effortless motion.
    row2.jpeg
  7. So in High School (I went to an all boys boarding school) None of the guys there would have placed me the the “jock" social subset. I was a ski kid, in the mountain climbing club, did Lacrosse and Soccer and into making art. But there was a substantial percentage of the kids who were definitely jocks. A full Varsity and JV hockey team, decent football team attracted to the school by a pretty ambitious outreach by the school to get talent into the eyes of colleges and universities.


    Strangely I was envious…mainly for the community they had…the bonds…and I ran in the periphery of their orbit a lot…befriending some. After school I became more and more athletic…the inverse of what you might expect. My early career and ambitions in that domain kept me from structured team sports until I was in my 40s.


    In the 80s when ‘going to the gym’ became a regular part of social life I again thrived. And since then I have more or less been above average active athletically for my age group.


    But it is all not because I want to be healthy, keep the weight off, or look good (although those benefits are certainly not accidental) it is mainly because working out, doing sports and exercise is like ‘coming home’ to my body. Well not ‘to’ my body…as that sounds a bit like it is separating myself from it…it is the way I embody my lived experience. It feels kinda like it does when I wake up without the alarm in the morning…’coming to’ or gaining awareness.


    My cock has a definite role to play in all this. Because it is in this awakened physical sense that I am most turned on…it is when I am most alive. And most creative, and enthusiastic as well…it’s not just sexual energy…it is life energy.


    So I am a jock I guess…and looking back at those men I knew in school and seeing athletes around town I recognize that energy in a sense.


    And I love community like this…where sometimes (often to be honest) I just log on and scroll the threads to hear the voices and see the images to be reminded that we re all alive, vibrant and to some extent robustly seeking life at its fullest.
    jocklife.jpg
    You, Aphradight, Kirk543 and 11 others like this.
  8. So...I have a theme to this kind of work that I am showing here...the tenure or scope of the pictures and stuff are really about being a guy Raised by Men.

    Many of you know what I am talking about...as to some extent we share this sense of following in the footsteps of the men we admired growing up...the ones we revered and in a sense worshiped. I was lucky in that mine were very relaxed and comfortable in their own skin for the most part. Naked or bare assed a lot of the time around the house (saved on laundry and felt good)...pissed with the door open, pissed together outside side by side...admired one another physically and challenged each other to be the best version of man we could be: to have courage to stand up for ourselves in a fight; to talk straight to one another; to be there for one another come what may.

    Sexually w talked a lot LOL...about porn, about pussy, tits, cocks and how good it felt to beat off...and did so often together.

    I crave the simplicity of that time, and so I guess I am piecing it together here and there...and this is part of that.
    . raisedbymen.jpg
    You, hairydawg, aldawg and 6 others like this.
  1. This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
    By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
    Dismiss Notice