Fire Island Vacation


Darrel and Tom walked along the trail through the sunken forrest on New York’s Fire Island. They had both wanted to be there with a companion since long before they met at one of the city’s more popular bars.

They had been dating by now for six months. Together they enjoyed Broadway musicals, chick flicks, dinner at high class restautants, dinner at small family style Italian restaurants and even workouts at the gym. For two men accustomed casual and meaningless sex the relationship was rapidly becoming serious. Their life together was far different than their separate bar to hotel room routines of earlier life.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

“I hear ya,” Darrel replied, “It’s pretty here.”

Both had launched highly successful careers. Darrel, age twenty five had become an economist at a major Manhattan firm. Tom, a more artistic type, had become an architect. The thirty year old could claim credit for a several appealing buildings.

The forrest is unique. High surrounding dunes create the allusion of placing it below sea level. It’s trees consist of American holly, sassafras and shadblow. Roller coaster boardwalks allow visitors to walk or run over the miles of sand dunes.

The island is home or at least temporary stop over to 330 species of birds. Some of these include swans, geese, ducks, hawks and falcons. There are also herons, loons and grebes. For Tom, an avid bird watcher, it was perfect. He had identified specie after specie as he saw them.

A soft breeze came in from the ocean chilling the September air. The humidity was low making the the temperature a comfortable seventy.

Tom had been interested in photography since the days of 35 mm film cameras. Planning to create a bird brochure, he now aimed his 35 mm Canon digital SLR equipped with a 500 mm lens at the loon perched on a sassafras branch. The photo would appear along with another of that same Çapa Escort bird taking flight.

Further along the trail he snapped more photos of the islands wild life. The white tail deer was perhaps thirty feet away nibbling at tall grass when the lens captured it.

Darrel had usually reserved picture taking for such functions as weddings, or other family gatherings. He preferred the simple point and shoot inexpensive digital camera. Lacking the magnification of Tom’s SLR it left him to snap broad scenery photos. A vacation image of Tom standing against a big tree, was recorded for posterity.

Around noon they returned to the Corneille Estates rental home. It came at an outrageous price tag but in their opinion well worth it.

There was nothing like it in the city. Sliding doors opened on to ground level deck. Trees surrounded the natural wood shingled home. It’s wood paneled rooms and paneled kitchen appealed to their sense of decor. A kitchen counter instead of a table was the only thing in common with a NYC apartment.

Tom had enjoyed cooking since he was a teen. Taking a dough from the refrigerator he began rolling it out. Less than a half hour later the end product was a pizza with Mozzarella cheese which they brought out to the deck and washed down with cheap beer.

While they ate they talked about how to spend the day. One place came to mind.

Cherry Grove is one of the oldest gay communities in the country. It has all the emanates; bars and clubs, drag queens, and nude bathing.

Nude bathing appealed to both of them. It was early afternoon when they arrived on the Cherry Grove beach. Scattered about were a few other sun bathers also naked.

Tom and Darrel both had a model’s body made by hundreds of hours lifting weights at a local gym in the city. For both the workouts were motivated by the reality that muscular men were considered very attractive.

A Çapa Escort Bayan man of Sicilian ancestry Tom was born with the easily tanned complexion of southern Mediterranean peoples. He didn’t worry about the sun hitting his body. He did worry about his boyfriend getting a burn.

Darrel had mixed Irish and Scotch blood. His fair complexion required plenty of sun screen which Tom was only too happy to apply.

Tom squeezed a copious dose of number ten sun block onto his hands and rubbed it onto his lover’s body. Darrel lay on his stomach while Tom’s hands caressed him spreading the creamy lotion. Taking direction, Darrel sat up. Tom Brasi rubbed the lotion onto Darrel McWiggen’s face, torso and legs. The task completed, they kissed briefly.

In Tom’s mind the plans for the photos were taking shape. His Mac book pro at the apartment would be the tool.

“I can use Adobe Photo shop,” he said, “to cut and paste the pictures on to a page. I’ll add the names then publish to a web site.”

“That sounds like an ambitious project.”

“Yeah but it’ll be fun,” Tom answered.

Darrel had an innate talent for making music. Encouraged to pursue it he started early in life on the piano. It had paid big dividends and would continue to do so.

An issue had troubled Darrel for the past few days. The band had lost an important person.

“The band is looking for a singer. Terry quit.”

“Really,” replied Tom, “When?”

“Just the other night. She never showed up for the gig.”

Terry was a “fag hag” and the only straight in a five person band. Having responded to an add for a “gay friendly female vocalist” she had been with the band since the beginning.

“Did she say why?” Tom wanted to know.

“Bored,” Darrel guessed.

“What type of music were you guys doing?”

“A little of everything,” Darrel replied.

There was no more point in talking about Escort Çapa the band as Tom had never actually heard them. Besides, his taste was jazz and classical. The bands top forty crap did not entertain him. He guessed that their former singer shared his feelings.

For a brief instant Todd and Darrel looked at each other’s sex. Both thought about it.

In September the waters around the island were not biting cold nor were they very warm. In any case it felt good against their bodies as they waded into it. They swam a little and talked.

“Actually,” said Darrel, “we knew she was quitting. She had told us but I hoped she wasn’t serious.”

The depth of water and some distance from others hid hand gestures. Darrel tugged lightly at Tom’s sex and was encouraged by a smile to grip it tighter. Tom reached for his boyfriend’s ass pushing two fingers into the anal hole. The flirting lasted only a few seconds but was enough to convey a message.

In the privacy of their own living room Tom and Darrel came into each other’s arms. They caressed each other’s entire body. Their open mouths met. Tongues probed. Lying on his left side with legs spread Tom moaned softly feeling the pleasing sensation of Darrel’s member between his buttocks being pushed into the hole. They changed places. Darrel liked sex lying on his back watching his lover’s pelvis smack against him repeatedly.

Cherry Grove offered night life. Tom and Darrel walked holding hands into the Loft, one of four clubs on the boulevard. The club was crowded with couples and singles making acquaintance for the first time. Before midnight they arrived back at their rented house exhausted by the long day.

Former singer Terry Neal sat watching House on her HD television while Tom and Darrel were socializing at a club. She had planned to keep in touch with her musician friends, but wanted to go in a new direction with her singing career. She had even thought about recording some jazz standards.

They were both beginning to realize that the relationship might have legs. Neither cared weather gay marriage became legalized but referring to themselves as ‘husbands’ someday was not out of the question.