My story The middle half THE TRIP TO LESBOLAND
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My Story: The First Half, THE TRIP TO LESBOLAND free porn video
I’m not much of a writer but about 10 years ago (at age 30) when I came to grips with the realization that I was indeed a member of the “L” word group a ther****t suggested I spend some time writing down all the things in my life that led me to where I was at that point in time. However, I was not disappointed I was a lesbian, nor sad or glad. I just realized I was where I was and that was that. Over the next few months I actually blossomed. Ok, poor choice of words but you know what I mean. My life finally became reasonably happy.
I had said in my profile that I did not hate men or ‘dicks’, only dickheads! I also said I wished at times I had a penis, and I also said I believe this all started as a k** when I visited my aunt.
So, this is not my fantasy, but rather my story. Please be patient, understanding and maybe we can all enjoy.
I grew up as a single c***d in central NJ. The quintessential suburbia of malls and hiways. The hippy generation was just about over and I seem to recall most of the k**s my age (as I reached high school) were rather bland and lethargic. Wearing black Tee shirts and hot looking dirty mops of hair the boys all looked sweaty and tired. The girls all with big hair and Fara hot-water-Faucet hair and Charlie’s Angels apparel looked to me like oversized barbi-doll wanna-bees. Well that was my mindset at 13 years old. Sex? Are you k**ding? It never entered my mind, nor did smoking pot, d**gs, booze or anything else for that matter back then. My mom was actually a left-over hippy and I saw she was now rather haggard, sad looking all the time, (except after she came back from the barn smelling like some strange kind of smoke) and generally worn out.
My dad, on the other hand was a Deck and Engine mechanic on a container ship and was gone months at a time. When he was back in port for a few weeks he would work at one of the big ‘gentleman’ (translate: Rich Guy) farms in the Far Hills section of New Jersey. There, he was especially good at buying and selling a****ls and farm products. Well actually there is more to it than that. The gentleman farms would get a big tax break by claiming ‘farm’ rather than ‘estate’ but they did have to sell and buy produce from the farm. It didn’t matter if it was carrots or horses. I didn’t quite care about carrots, well about eating them anyhow, although I have since learned carrots are good for other things too!
But I was intrigued by the big a****ls. I did not spend much time with my father and sort of felt I never actually knew him other than as some guy that would show up every few months, annoy mom, go off to a farm and come back smelling like pig shit.
But on the few trips he took me out to the farms (estates) I was overwhelmed by the grand houses, pools, paver patios and barbecue pits, outdoor wet bars and the multitude of automobiles in the big garages. And the beautiful a****ls. These were not run of the mill farm a****ls but award winning show horses, bulls and cattle. Of course, I’m not leading up to any perverted idea or thoughts of sex with a****ls. That makes me shudder to even mention it but I did have to say that because one of the first things I noticed about the big a****ls was the way they dealt with sex. No matter how big and strong and ornery the male was, no matter how much he was aroused, if the female was not interested she just walked away…case closed…and the big guy fell flat on his face. But if she was ready and interested, she just stood still and it was over in a few seconds. To a 14-15 year old girl like me back then, that was mind consuming. Of course, sex education was already prevalent in schools by then so the part played by the a****ls penis was not a shock. But it was still intriguing to see something grow that big, so fast, work so hard for a few seconds and leave a two thousand pound a****l exhausted and a thousand pound female so satisfied I swear I would see her grin. I could not help but wonder about humans.
But still, I had no interest in boys. And I had a very bad feeling when one danced with me, or tried to hug me or worse: Jammed something rather hard into my hip!
Around this same time of my teenage years I would visit my aunt on weekends and during the summer for a few weeks at a time. The summers were especially great because she liked the beach. My mom was always too exhausted or cheap to spend a day at the beach but my aunt went every chance she got. She was a beautiful woman of Irish descent. Red hair (real red hair) very white skin with all the freckles in the right places, Just the right shape for her job. She was an assistant to a vice president or something in a local bank, knew how to dress and wear clothes and fix her hair and makeup to fit the business occasion. She was not too tall and had fairly large breasts but not oversized. She had what I used to call shelving cleavage. In other words when she was dressed for work her breasts fit close together and the top of her breasts were almost a shelf. I often had thoughts that one could stick a business card in her cleavage and it would stand straight up. I also noticed the top of her breasts, where they were exposed were very soft looking and sort of jiggled as she moved around, even though the rest of her breasts were held firm in her bra. Her rear end, while certainly not fat was ‘broad’ enough to fit the perfect mold for a well dressed female executive of the ‘60’s. I often noticed her butt had what I liked to call the ‘H’ shape. Although not squared off exactly like the letter H, her skirt would drop down on each side and a line would stretch across her butt cheeks like the cross bar in the H.
I think that was the very first tingle of lesbian in me rising to the surface. Because even while I thought about what her cleavage would feel like if I were to put my hand down there instead of a business card, the thought of what that H crossbar felt like in my hands actually stirred something in me, deep inside. I did not know what it was yet but is was a start.
However, she really was a throwback to the fifties. Even though pantyhose was well accepted by then, and most women wore ‘pantsuits’ or slacks to work she always wore a skirt and blouse, a slip and most often that I saw her a garter belt and stockings. And this is where I think my feelings really started to change. When she came home from work she would undress (without a care in the world) right in front of me. Later in life I could not help but think back to then and wonder how many men would pay a fortune to switch places with me. She never just threw her clothes on the floor or over a chair but each piece would be folded or put back on a hanger whether or not it was destined for the laundry or dry cleaners. It was never the same routine either, sometimes she would remove her blouse first, sometimes later. There were times she would remover her blouse and then reach around and pop her bra off while she was still in her high heels. Other times it was slip before skirt or skirt then slip.
I have to say I don’t ever remember her completely undressing, or even undressing more than her skirt and blouse when I was still 13 or 14 years old. But by the time I reached age 15 she had no problem exposing her breasts. I can only assume it was because by then I also had breasts. Not much, but breasts never-the-less.
I can’t say I was actually aroused by her undressing. That did not enter my mind at the time. Not yet at least. But like the horses penis, It had me intrigued. Probably more so because I never dressed like that. Nor did my mom or any other woman in my family.
But the little things were building. First the cleavage, then the butt shape and the garter belt and stockings. Up to this time I had never saw her remove her panties, but just the sight of silk ‘kind of boxer style’ underwear was exotic. At least compared to the cotton or fake cotton K-Mart cheap stuff mom and I had. When she did wear pantyhose she always wore panties under the panty hose…..and they were not removed in front of me.
What I am telling you may not be exotic or arousing. It really was not arousing to me either, at least not then. Now when I think back on those times I can’t help but find myself becoming aroused. Strange? Many times I saw her breasts when I was teenager, I never, ever thought or focused on her nipples. After-all: everyone has nipples. Mom, me even grandma. But now, as an adult female lesbian I can’t get them out of my mind. But that may be because of what came later at the beach.
When I reached 17 I went to work after school and bought a car. I did not see much of my aunt that summer and missed her dreadfully. She had finally hooked up with a boyfriend and it looked like they were going to get married over the next year or so. But over the Christmas vacation I turned 18 and at the time the drinking age in NY (just over the state line) was 18 so my aunt and her boyfriend took me out for a birthday dinner and drinks. Not being a drinker the one or two what-ever-they-were drinks left me woozy and strangely out of control. That was not my idea of a good time but I hung in there and made it back with out getting sick or falling over. We all were staying at my aunt’s house and she made a good show of proving her boyfriend was sleeping in the guest bedroom. I was on a couch and she in her own bed. About 3:00 am I awoke with the terrible feeling that I was going to get sick and rushed to the bathroom which was just before her bedroom door. Her door was wide open, a night light was on and I caught a glimpse of her legs in a V pointed straight in the air and the hairy butt of a man bouncing up and down between them. I got sick. Sick as I have ever been in my entire life. I don’t know if they knew I saw them, neither one ever said a word later, but when I left the bathroom later her door was closed.
By Easter there should have been wedding plans, but there were none. By June he was gone completely. My aunt seemed different, almost like my mom. Distant, sad, exhausted. And now whenever I saw her she was dressed different; sad, wrinkled clothing, her makeup cheap and lifeless. I was beginning to believe this is what men do. Take all the life out of a beautiful woman, then just go off and do their own thing. Why then did the cows and female horses just stand there, why did they not walk away when they had a chance.
Was this the power a penis had over women?
It was with that thought my life changed.
It was now July, I had my own car, my aunt was still reeling so one beautiful Friday morning off I drove to the beach alone. I was not ugly, I was not a beauty queen either, but by then I had a fair shape, but still I had no interest in a boy friend. I chose Sandy Hook State Park as my destination. The local radio station, as well as the Howard Stern Show on NY radio had been talking for years now about a nude beach there. It was easy to find, it was the only one with no k**s in the parking lot! With all the balls of those big horses I liked so much I grabbed my beach bag out of the car and a blanket and headed across the wood walkway out to the beach. I was absolutely fine until I came face to face with the sign that said “You May Encounter Nude Sunbathers Beyond This Point”. My knees went weak, my head started spinning and I lost my breath. But I kept walking towards the dozen or so colorful windscreens and beach umbrellas lining the water. I spread my blanket, dropped my shorts and pulled off my tee shirt. Of course I had a two piece on under that but it was a start. As my senses returned I noticed there were a couple dozen people laying around and walking at the waters edge completely naked. It did not bother me. I was not shocked. I removed my top and no-one cared. A rather fat pot bellied guy walked slowly past and just nodded hello. Actually, I was a little annoyed that he did not even care I was topless. I found myself thinking: “that fat bastard has a penis the size of my thumb” and he did not even look at my nipples. Shit! The next hour or so went about the same. Finally, after feeling more than comfortable I removed my bottoms. Nobody seemed to give a shit! Dammit!
By then it was near 10:00 am and when I looked around I realized the couple dozen people were now in the hundreds. Literally hundreds upon hundreds of naked people of every shape and size. Nobody hit on me that day, but nobody bothered me either. Maybe it was my look that scared them away…or my ‘looks’..maybe just nobody gave a shit about me.?
But I was addicted to the nude beach.
For the next few months it was Sandy Hook at least once a week on my day off. Which was always Friday. If it rained Friday I would leave real early Sunday and weather the super sized crowds that were there on Sundays.
As I became more and more addicted three things happened: My fascination with the penis grew (again…poor choice of words, lol) and I started to notice that I really noticed women. And most unnerving; I realized I was an exhibitionist. And a Voyeur!
I realized soon after that the people wandering around were not as innocuous as I first thought. One section was almost all couples. The far edge tended to be gay men and gay ladies not far away. The back edge of the beach along the dunes were less crowded and mixed with single men and blankets with couples. On a closer look I noticed those couples were very playful and the men watching them were very obvious.
Along the beach I noticed the rather sedate ladies would slowly open their legs as different men sauntered by. And I could see some men gently nudge his companions’ knees apart when other men walked by.
That bothered me, what was that all about? I tried this myself. When a man passed by I would open my knees slightly. If he slowed down his pace I would open them more. At first, if he stopped altogether I would quickly close them back up. But then I realized this was a terrible turn on for me. And slamming my knees back closed was, well just bratty. The more I did it the better I got and the more I wanted to do it. I just did not want the guy to stop and talk. And most did, and they acted like bozos. It wasted my time and theirs. But there were a few guys that knew how to act and those men were just an amazing turn on to me. It was the first time in my 18 years of life that I realized women got sort of an erection too. And not only in their nipples! And wet…omg! But it was the beach so I did not care about the wet spots on the towel. Watching a man watch me was a turn on to me. Watching a man getting erect was a super turn on. It was a while before I realized I was watching a penis not a man. And watching nude women was beautiful. But watching red haired, white skinned freckled Irish women left me breathless. Unfortunately, in fact almost never did I catch a women looking between my legs. Of course, there was this one pink haired emo looking goth lady that gave me the creeps….but that’s another story. I was only 18 and the summer was over.
I spent the winter in Community college and working…working and working! My intentions were to take the summer off as much as I could and spend it at the nude beach. The internet did not exist for me then, boy friends were still out of the question but clubs and dancing and a few bars in NY were sporadic. My time spent with the girls from college was becoming to be more noticeable to me and I was worried something was wrong. I still had not had intercourse or sex of any kind really except at home, alone…..and even that was not really sex.
April first (April fools day) was a beautiful warm spring day and I was off. I had no intention of spending an April day on the beach but I was drawn to it anyhow. When I arrived in the parking lot of Gunnisen Beach on Sandy Hook I was really surprised to see about 10 cars there. I grabbed a towel, a bottle of baby oil (works better than sun block when the sun is weak) and walked up to the beach. Even though there were 10 cars in the lot I saw only two or three windscreens and one or two people walking the beach. It was rather cool at the waters edge but back along the dunes it was much warmer and not too much wind. I walked past a pink windscreen with one guy sitting behind it and he nodded. I nodded back and thought: “PINK windscreen……..GAY!” I smiled and flipped my towel open. I did not remove my clothes. It was a bit too cool I thought. Mr. Pink windscreen never gave me another look and I figured I was right about him being gay. He did raise up from his chair and walked up to the water and back a few minutes later. I thought “ he probably went to take a pee and walked all the way up there because he is gay!”. I noticed as he walked back he too had a pot belly just like the very first guy I saw on the beach last year. And he had a penis about the size of my thumb. It was then a thought smacked me right in the forehead…….”That guy (last year) that did not look at my tits (I called them breasts back then) or my nipples didn’t look because he didn’t like them,,,,He did not look because he was probably GAY!”……..yeaaaaa. And that’s why his dick was so small………Actually his penis was probably average but I did not know about ‘shrinkage’ from the cold water then… and besides I was comparing his dick to a 2000 pound stallion’s dick! I almost broke out laughing thinking about that.
Anyhow the tiny dicked gay guy (his name turned out to be Ed……or Fred I forget) went to his pink wind screen, dried off his head and looked at me and said: “That water is Freeeezing!”…… I could not help but like him. He was not a bozo, he was not pushy, and here is a guy probably twice my age with a dick the size of my thumb and not afraid to talk to me……..and never approached me. Of course not, HE IS GAY! I could not help but get up and walk over to him and chat, This was the first time in my life I ever did that. We talked just a tiny bit and Ed said: “ why don’t you drag your towel over here in the windscreen and enjoy the sun?” At first I was taken aback, but then I realized it really was warmer behind the windscreen. So I did, And in five minutes I had my clothes off and really was surprised at how warm it was without the wind blowing. But Ed was gay and probably 45 years old so I was safe. I was sitting on my towel and he was in his low beach chair and I could not help but notice his penis was somewhat larger than before. Not hard, not erect, but larger. I have since learned that is called tuminescent…or something like that. And it was pink at the head. And he was circumcised. And every time I looked into his eyes he was looking at my pussy. (I want to call it my privates, or my vagina, or my monkey…….but it is my pussy) …. and Ed later, finally made me say that!
For the first time in my life I was only a few feet away from a penis. Talking to a guy that was not a bozo, a guy that seemed to enjoy looking at my pussy and I was thrilled. We talked for an hour. I moved my legs open and closed, I watched his penis (ok, his dick) get larger and smaller. I felt my clit getting erect and actually felt a trickle of wetness. (Which is something not always felt unless you are aroused.) We started to talk about the people we saw here last year and the sex that went on and the gay guys and people getting aroused and the women and ……..and I realized Ed had a complete erection. And it was not as small as I thought, and it was actually beautiful. It was white, clear skinned with a couple purple/blue veins running the length and a perfect pink fireman’s helmet head with a beautiful white/pink coronial ridge. (I had no idea that was what it was called then)…and a spot of glistening clear liquid at the very tip. I was absolutely absorbed in concentration…I probably was sitting there with my mouth agape. I had never seen that before. Then out of the blue Ed said: “You can touch it if you like”….All I can remember saying is “touch?”….”no that’s ok”… as I reached out and touched it. It was flaming hot and hard as a rock. Ed kind of chuckled and said: “I understand”…. . “What do you understand Ed” I sort of mumbled. Ed said he understood there were a lot of really beautiful women like me that have never really gotten to know a penis as a friend…..mainly because the guys are always just trying to stick it in you or they are afraid to befriend you because you are so beautiful….or something like that. But whatever he said it worked. He made it sound like there were three people there. Me, him and Mr. Happy. Whatever he said it worked. I had the very best time of my life learning about little Mr. Ed. Touching, feeling, squeezing, spotting the precum and slipping it between my fingers, finding one testicle, then the other, which was bigger, which was lower, what sent him up about two feet when I squeezed the wrong spot and how the glans was so similar to a persons tongue and the coronial ridge was designed to bounce along from ridge to ridge in the vagina…….and what it was like to watch a man cum!
And what It felt like in my hand, and between my fingers and what cum smelled like (like brie cheese). I was thrilled. I actually stroked it till he came and caught the cum in my bare hand. ………..THAT DID IT! I wanted a penis.
I can’t help but laugh now. Ed was as far from a gay man you could get. And he was not 40 or 45 but 60. In wonderful shape for a short fat man with a pot belly and the most beautiful penis I have ever seen in my life. Ed never once in the many encounters I have had with him ever tried to push himself on me or hit on me. What a gentleman! He probably is the only man in my life I would really want to fuck. I miss him terribly.
For the rest of that summer and most of the next few summers I overdosed on the nude beach. Every time I saw Ed he let me play with ‘little Ed’ and never once asked me to suck it or tried to fuck me. I loved that little guy (both of them) and to this day I can masturbate to climax in just a few minutes thinking of ‘little Ed’. Ed retired and moved to Arizona where I hope him and his not so little friend are keeping other young women very, very happy.
Well, that brings me to the last chapter…….where I finally realize I am as gay as I thought Ed was…and some of my experiences with my Aunt look-alikes-at the beach and finally Susan……and the internet and here …….HAMPSTER.
see ya next time Lori
(Pussnbootz)
I had said in my profile that I did not hate men or ‘dicks’, only dickheads! I also said I wished at times I had a penis, and I also said I believe this all started as a k** when I visited my aunt.
So, this is not my fantasy, but rather my story. Please be patient, understanding and maybe we can all enjoy.
I grew up as a single c***d in central NJ. The quintessential suburbia of malls and hiways. The hippy generation was just about over and I seem to recall most of the k**s my age (as I reached high school) were rather bland and lethargic. Wearing black Tee shirts and hot looking dirty mops of hair the boys all looked sweaty and tired. The girls all with big hair and Fara hot-water-Faucet hair and Charlie’s Angels apparel looked to me like oversized barbi-doll wanna-bees. Well that was my mindset at 13 years old. Sex? Are you k**ding? It never entered my mind, nor did smoking pot, d**gs, booze or anything else for that matter back then. My mom was actually a left-over hippy and I saw she was now rather haggard, sad looking all the time, (except after she came back from the barn smelling like some strange kind of smoke) and generally worn out.
My dad, on the other hand was a Deck and Engine mechanic on a container ship and was gone months at a time. When he was back in port for a few weeks he would work at one of the big ‘gentleman’ (translate: Rich Guy) farms in the Far Hills section of New Jersey. There, he was especially good at buying and selling a****ls and farm products. Well actually there is more to it than that. The gentleman farms would get a big tax break by claiming ‘farm’ rather than ‘estate’ but they did have to sell and buy produce from the farm. It didn’t matter if it was carrots or horses. I didn’t quite care about carrots, well about eating them anyhow, although I have since learned carrots are good for other things too!
But I was intrigued by the big a****ls. I did not spend much time with my father and sort of felt I never actually knew him other than as some guy that would show up every few months, annoy mom, go off to a farm and come back smelling like pig shit.
But on the few trips he took me out to the farms (estates) I was overwhelmed by the grand houses, pools, paver patios and barbecue pits, outdoor wet bars and the multitude of automobiles in the big garages. And the beautiful a****ls. These were not run of the mill farm a****ls but award winning show horses, bulls and cattle. Of course, I’m not leading up to any perverted idea or thoughts of sex with a****ls. That makes me shudder to even mention it but I did have to say that because one of the first things I noticed about the big a****ls was the way they dealt with sex. No matter how big and strong and ornery the male was, no matter how much he was aroused, if the female was not interested she just walked away…case closed…and the big guy fell flat on his face. But if she was ready and interested, she just stood still and it was over in a few seconds. To a 14-15 year old girl like me back then, that was mind consuming. Of course, sex education was already prevalent in schools by then so the part played by the a****ls penis was not a shock. But it was still intriguing to see something grow that big, so fast, work so hard for a few seconds and leave a two thousand pound a****l exhausted and a thousand pound female so satisfied I swear I would see her grin. I could not help but wonder about humans.
But still, I had no interest in boys. And I had a very bad feeling when one danced with me, or tried to hug me or worse: Jammed something rather hard into my hip!
Around this same time of my teenage years I would visit my aunt on weekends and during the summer for a few weeks at a time. The summers were especially great because she liked the beach. My mom was always too exhausted or cheap to spend a day at the beach but my aunt went every chance she got. She was a beautiful woman of Irish descent. Red hair (real red hair) very white skin with all the freckles in the right places, Just the right shape for her job. She was an assistant to a vice president or something in a local bank, knew how to dress and wear clothes and fix her hair and makeup to fit the business occasion. She was not too tall and had fairly large breasts but not oversized. She had what I used to call shelving cleavage. In other words when she was dressed for work her breasts fit close together and the top of her breasts were almost a shelf. I often had thoughts that one could stick a business card in her cleavage and it would stand straight up. I also noticed the top of her breasts, where they were exposed were very soft looking and sort of jiggled as she moved around, even though the rest of her breasts were held firm in her bra. Her rear end, while certainly not fat was ‘broad’ enough to fit the perfect mold for a well dressed female executive of the ‘60’s. I often noticed her butt had what I liked to call the ‘H’ shape. Although not squared off exactly like the letter H, her skirt would drop down on each side and a line would stretch across her butt cheeks like the cross bar in the H.
I think that was the very first tingle of lesbian in me rising to the surface. Because even while I thought about what her cleavage would feel like if I were to put my hand down there instead of a business card, the thought of what that H crossbar felt like in my hands actually stirred something in me, deep inside. I did not know what it was yet but is was a start.
However, she really was a throwback to the fifties. Even though pantyhose was well accepted by then, and most women wore ‘pantsuits’ or slacks to work she always wore a skirt and blouse, a slip and most often that I saw her a garter belt and stockings. And this is where I think my feelings really started to change. When she came home from work she would undress (without a care in the world) right in front of me. Later in life I could not help but think back to then and wonder how many men would pay a fortune to switch places with me. She never just threw her clothes on the floor or over a chair but each piece would be folded or put back on a hanger whether or not it was destined for the laundry or dry cleaners. It was never the same routine either, sometimes she would remove her blouse first, sometimes later. There were times she would remover her blouse and then reach around and pop her bra off while she was still in her high heels. Other times it was slip before skirt or skirt then slip.
I have to say I don’t ever remember her completely undressing, or even undressing more than her skirt and blouse when I was still 13 or 14 years old. But by the time I reached age 15 she had no problem exposing her breasts. I can only assume it was because by then I also had breasts. Not much, but breasts never-the-less.
I can’t say I was actually aroused by her undressing. That did not enter my mind at the time. Not yet at least. But like the horses penis, It had me intrigued. Probably more so because I never dressed like that. Nor did my mom or any other woman in my family.
But the little things were building. First the cleavage, then the butt shape and the garter belt and stockings. Up to this time I had never saw her remove her panties, but just the sight of silk ‘kind of boxer style’ underwear was exotic. At least compared to the cotton or fake cotton K-Mart cheap stuff mom and I had. When she did wear pantyhose she always wore panties under the panty hose…..and they were not removed in front of me.
What I am telling you may not be exotic or arousing. It really was not arousing to me either, at least not then. Now when I think back on those times I can’t help but find myself becoming aroused. Strange? Many times I saw her breasts when I was teenager, I never, ever thought or focused on her nipples. After-all: everyone has nipples. Mom, me even grandma. But now, as an adult female lesbian I can’t get them out of my mind. But that may be because of what came later at the beach.
When I reached 17 I went to work after school and bought a car. I did not see much of my aunt that summer and missed her dreadfully. She had finally hooked up with a boyfriend and it looked like they were going to get married over the next year or so. But over the Christmas vacation I turned 18 and at the time the drinking age in NY (just over the state line) was 18 so my aunt and her boyfriend took me out for a birthday dinner and drinks. Not being a drinker the one or two what-ever-they-were drinks left me woozy and strangely out of control. That was not my idea of a good time but I hung in there and made it back with out getting sick or falling over. We all were staying at my aunt’s house and she made a good show of proving her boyfriend was sleeping in the guest bedroom. I was on a couch and she in her own bed. About 3:00 am I awoke with the terrible feeling that I was going to get sick and rushed to the bathroom which was just before her bedroom door. Her door was wide open, a night light was on and I caught a glimpse of her legs in a V pointed straight in the air and the hairy butt of a man bouncing up and down between them. I got sick. Sick as I have ever been in my entire life. I don’t know if they knew I saw them, neither one ever said a word later, but when I left the bathroom later her door was closed.
By Easter there should have been wedding plans, but there were none. By June he was gone completely. My aunt seemed different, almost like my mom. Distant, sad, exhausted. And now whenever I saw her she was dressed different; sad, wrinkled clothing, her makeup cheap and lifeless. I was beginning to believe this is what men do. Take all the life out of a beautiful woman, then just go off and do their own thing. Why then did the cows and female horses just stand there, why did they not walk away when they had a chance.
Was this the power a penis had over women?
It was with that thought my life changed.
It was now July, I had my own car, my aunt was still reeling so one beautiful Friday morning off I drove to the beach alone. I was not ugly, I was not a beauty queen either, but by then I had a fair shape, but still I had no interest in a boy friend. I chose Sandy Hook State Park as my destination. The local radio station, as well as the Howard Stern Show on NY radio had been talking for years now about a nude beach there. It was easy to find, it was the only one with no k**s in the parking lot! With all the balls of those big horses I liked so much I grabbed my beach bag out of the car and a blanket and headed across the wood walkway out to the beach. I was absolutely fine until I came face to face with the sign that said “You May Encounter Nude Sunbathers Beyond This Point”. My knees went weak, my head started spinning and I lost my breath. But I kept walking towards the dozen or so colorful windscreens and beach umbrellas lining the water. I spread my blanket, dropped my shorts and pulled off my tee shirt. Of course I had a two piece on under that but it was a start. As my senses returned I noticed there were a couple dozen people laying around and walking at the waters edge completely naked. It did not bother me. I was not shocked. I removed my top and no-one cared. A rather fat pot bellied guy walked slowly past and just nodded hello. Actually, I was a little annoyed that he did not even care I was topless. I found myself thinking: “that fat bastard has a penis the size of my thumb” and he did not even look at my nipples. Shit! The next hour or so went about the same. Finally, after feeling more than comfortable I removed my bottoms. Nobody seemed to give a shit! Dammit!
By then it was near 10:00 am and when I looked around I realized the couple dozen people were now in the hundreds. Literally hundreds upon hundreds of naked people of every shape and size. Nobody hit on me that day, but nobody bothered me either. Maybe it was my look that scared them away…or my ‘looks’..maybe just nobody gave a shit about me.?
But I was addicted to the nude beach.
For the next few months it was Sandy Hook at least once a week on my day off. Which was always Friday. If it rained Friday I would leave real early Sunday and weather the super sized crowds that were there on Sundays.
As I became more and more addicted three things happened: My fascination with the penis grew (again…poor choice of words, lol) and I started to notice that I really noticed women. And most unnerving; I realized I was an exhibitionist. And a Voyeur!
I realized soon after that the people wandering around were not as innocuous as I first thought. One section was almost all couples. The far edge tended to be gay men and gay ladies not far away. The back edge of the beach along the dunes were less crowded and mixed with single men and blankets with couples. On a closer look I noticed those couples were very playful and the men watching them were very obvious.
Along the beach I noticed the rather sedate ladies would slowly open their legs as different men sauntered by. And I could see some men gently nudge his companions’ knees apart when other men walked by.
That bothered me, what was that all about? I tried this myself. When a man passed by I would open my knees slightly. If he slowed down his pace I would open them more. At first, if he stopped altogether I would quickly close them back up. But then I realized this was a terrible turn on for me. And slamming my knees back closed was, well just bratty. The more I did it the better I got and the more I wanted to do it. I just did not want the guy to stop and talk. And most did, and they acted like bozos. It wasted my time and theirs. But there were a few guys that knew how to act and those men were just an amazing turn on to me. It was the first time in my 18 years of life that I realized women got sort of an erection too. And not only in their nipples! And wet…omg! But it was the beach so I did not care about the wet spots on the towel. Watching a man watch me was a turn on to me. Watching a man getting erect was a super turn on. It was a while before I realized I was watching a penis not a man. And watching nude women was beautiful. But watching red haired, white skinned freckled Irish women left me breathless. Unfortunately, in fact almost never did I catch a women looking between my legs. Of course, there was this one pink haired emo looking goth lady that gave me the creeps….but that’s another story. I was only 18 and the summer was over.
I spent the winter in Community college and working…working and working! My intentions were to take the summer off as much as I could and spend it at the nude beach. The internet did not exist for me then, boy friends were still out of the question but clubs and dancing and a few bars in NY were sporadic. My time spent with the girls from college was becoming to be more noticeable to me and I was worried something was wrong. I still had not had intercourse or sex of any kind really except at home, alone…..and even that was not really sex.
April first (April fools day) was a beautiful warm spring day and I was off. I had no intention of spending an April day on the beach but I was drawn to it anyhow. When I arrived in the parking lot of Gunnisen Beach on Sandy Hook I was really surprised to see about 10 cars there. I grabbed a towel, a bottle of baby oil (works better than sun block when the sun is weak) and walked up to the beach. Even though there were 10 cars in the lot I saw only two or three windscreens and one or two people walking the beach. It was rather cool at the waters edge but back along the dunes it was much warmer and not too much wind. I walked past a pink windscreen with one guy sitting behind it and he nodded. I nodded back and thought: “PINK windscreen……..GAY!” I smiled and flipped my towel open. I did not remove my clothes. It was a bit too cool I thought. Mr. Pink windscreen never gave me another look and I figured I was right about him being gay. He did raise up from his chair and walked up to the water and back a few minutes later. I thought “ he probably went to take a pee and walked all the way up there because he is gay!”. I noticed as he walked back he too had a pot belly just like the very first guy I saw on the beach last year. And he had a penis about the size of my thumb. It was then a thought smacked me right in the forehead…….”That guy (last year) that did not look at my tits (I called them breasts back then) or my nipples didn’t look because he didn’t like them,,,,He did not look because he was probably GAY!”……..yeaaaaa. And that’s why his dick was so small………Actually his penis was probably average but I did not know about ‘shrinkage’ from the cold water then… and besides I was comparing his dick to a 2000 pound stallion’s dick! I almost broke out laughing thinking about that.
Anyhow the tiny dicked gay guy (his name turned out to be Ed……or Fred I forget) went to his pink wind screen, dried off his head and looked at me and said: “That water is Freeeezing!”…… I could not help but like him. He was not a bozo, he was not pushy, and here is a guy probably twice my age with a dick the size of my thumb and not afraid to talk to me……..and never approached me. Of course not, HE IS GAY! I could not help but get up and walk over to him and chat, This was the first time in my life I ever did that. We talked just a tiny bit and Ed said: “ why don’t you drag your towel over here in the windscreen and enjoy the sun?” At first I was taken aback, but then I realized it really was warmer behind the windscreen. So I did, And in five minutes I had my clothes off and really was surprised at how warm it was without the wind blowing. But Ed was gay and probably 45 years old so I was safe. I was sitting on my towel and he was in his low beach chair and I could not help but notice his penis was somewhat larger than before. Not hard, not erect, but larger. I have since learned that is called tuminescent…or something like that. And it was pink at the head. And he was circumcised. And every time I looked into his eyes he was looking at my pussy. (I want to call it my privates, or my vagina, or my monkey…….but it is my pussy) …. and Ed later, finally made me say that!
For the first time in my life I was only a few feet away from a penis. Talking to a guy that was not a bozo, a guy that seemed to enjoy looking at my pussy and I was thrilled. We talked for an hour. I moved my legs open and closed, I watched his penis (ok, his dick) get larger and smaller. I felt my clit getting erect and actually felt a trickle of wetness. (Which is something not always felt unless you are aroused.) We started to talk about the people we saw here last year and the sex that went on and the gay guys and people getting aroused and the women and ……..and I realized Ed had a complete erection. And it was not as small as I thought, and it was actually beautiful. It was white, clear skinned with a couple purple/blue veins running the length and a perfect pink fireman’s helmet head with a beautiful white/pink coronial ridge. (I had no idea that was what it was called then)…and a spot of glistening clear liquid at the very tip. I was absolutely absorbed in concentration…I probably was sitting there with my mouth agape. I had never seen that before. Then out of the blue Ed said: “You can touch it if you like”….All I can remember saying is “touch?”….”no that’s ok”… as I reached out and touched it. It was flaming hot and hard as a rock. Ed kind of chuckled and said: “I understand”…. . “What do you understand Ed” I sort of mumbled. Ed said he understood there were a lot of really beautiful women like me that have never really gotten to know a penis as a friend…..mainly because the guys are always just trying to stick it in you or they are afraid to befriend you because you are so beautiful….or something like that. But whatever he said it worked. He made it sound like there were three people there. Me, him and Mr. Happy. Whatever he said it worked. I had the very best time of my life learning about little Mr. Ed. Touching, feeling, squeezing, spotting the precum and slipping it between my fingers, finding one testicle, then the other, which was bigger, which was lower, what sent him up about two feet when I squeezed the wrong spot and how the glans was so similar to a persons tongue and the coronial ridge was designed to bounce along from ridge to ridge in the vagina…….and what it was like to watch a man cum!
And what It felt like in my hand, and between my fingers and what cum smelled like (like brie cheese). I was thrilled. I actually stroked it till he came and caught the cum in my bare hand. ………..THAT DID IT! I wanted a penis.
I can’t help but laugh now. Ed was as far from a gay man you could get. And he was not 40 or 45 but 60. In wonderful shape for a short fat man with a pot belly and the most beautiful penis I have ever seen in my life. Ed never once in the many encounters I have had with him ever tried to push himself on me or hit on me. What a gentleman! He probably is the only man in my life I would really want to fuck. I miss him terribly.
For the rest of that summer and most of the next few summers I overdosed on the nude beach. Every time I saw Ed he let me play with ‘little Ed’ and never once asked me to suck it or tried to fuck me. I loved that little guy (both of them) and to this day I can masturbate to climax in just a few minutes thinking of ‘little Ed’. Ed retired and moved to Arizona where I hope him and his not so little friend are keeping other young women very, very happy.
Well, that brings me to the last chapter…….where I finally realize I am as gay as I thought Ed was…and some of my experiences with my Aunt look-alikes-at the beach and finally Susan……and the internet and here …….HAMPSTER.
see ya next time Lori
(Pussnbootz)
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