A hot day in the city. I finished serving lunch at the executive dining room on Wall Street a little past 1pm and caught the A train to the Rockaway Beach after which a bus transported me to Riis Park, the gay nude beach. Hundreds of queers and lesbian sunbathed naked. Spread legs showing cocks and pussy. I laid down my tow and stripped off my jeans and teenshirt. The sun was brutal and I went into the Atlantic. Not so cold for July. I swam out to the waves and bodysurfed for a good fifteen minutes, then rode one growler to the shore and stood in the knee-high shallows.
My skin tingled from the plunge. The sun bronzed my skin and the breeze caressed my flesh.
A classic pervert in a white shirt and black shirts wandered into this water, still wearing black socks and black shoes. He was in his forties and his skin was as white as chalk. Creepy and not in a good way. He waded closer and studied my semi-erect penis, licking his lips. He comes even closer. I smell the AquaVelva and his breath stinks of gin.
“Do you want me to jerk you off?”
“No.”
I’m not offended by the offer, but he’s not my type either.
He wanders off to haunt some other prey.
An amusing incident.
It was around 4. I towel dry and get dressed jeans and a t-shirt sneakers. I catch the bus to 116th Street catch the A train. At a payphone I drop a dime and call Rose at the Socialist Monthly. We’ve been seeing more of each other without Robert. Her friend wants me, but he’s not my type either. Rose answers the phone.
“I’m the only one here. I want you to come over. I’m working a little late. How long do you think you’ll take.”
“About an hour.”
The train is in the station. The air conditioning is a relief. The subway crosses Broad Channel and soon speeds through Brooklyn. I read the New York Times into the city. I get off at 14th Street over to the Socialist Review and take the elevator upstairs.
Rose is at the reception desk. She is wearing a tube top and tight jeans over her thin body. Her curly caramel hair falls to her shoulders like a Jewish verson of Jane Fonda i. KLUTE
“Anyone here?” The office was the entire floor. It sounded empty.
“No, it’s after 5. Everyone went home for the day. It’s just you and me.” She stood up and locked the front door to the left-wing publishing house. The air is stale and I hold her from behind. She smells like revolution.
“You smell like the Atlantic. Come with me ”
She grabs my hand and hauls me back into the book stacks
“There’s no one here, but me and you.”
“What about the FBI eavesdroppers?” The government hated Socialists. I was more an anarchist.
“Let’s give them a show.”
“Good.”
I undo my belt and tugged down my zipper, then pull down my pants. Rose drops to her knees and sucks my cock. It’s already hard.
“Salty.”
I pulled back both her hands behind your back. Her face on communist books of Marxism, she moaning, “Fuck me. Fuck me.”
I have no trouble with that and she moans sighing, “Do it now. Do it now ”
I spurt a load inside her and she shudders with a groan.
“Ooo, your cum in me ”
I withdraw and sperm drips down her thighs.
“Lick the cum from my skin. I want it on my tits. ”
I kneel and suck the cum and then tongue her pussy tasting her and more of my cum. I don’t swallow. I try to push my fist in her cunt. It’s too small, but she shakes in the throes in orgasm.
”
I stand.
She opens her nouth. We kiss and she takes all the cum in her mouth, then break away to dribble the semen onto her small breasts.
The gobs of cum melt like pearls and her palms wipe it over her breasts.
“That was good.”
“Same here ” My cock is still hard
“That was really good.”
“For me too.”
“Do you want to go up to Central Park and watch some Shakespeare?”
“If we fuck in the bushes afterwards I’m Your Man
“I still have some work to do. Go to the Corner Bistro meet you there.”
I grab THE OPEN VEINS OF LATIN AMERICA.
We get dressed and kissed at the elevator. Both of us tasting of cum. It was a good plan. The beer is cheap there.