One Gay at a Time

Friday had come and gone on the island, and I behaved myself. I was trying to enjoy my time with my friends and stop thinking about finding a guy to hang out with, hookup or not. But, when Saturday rolled around and most of my friends were all coupled up, I started feeling lonely once again.

We went to a bar in Oak Bluff, Offshore Ale Company, to pregame for a night on the town. We ordered plates of french fries and tried some of the many beers they offered on tap. Everyone was well on their to a drunk night.

Throughout the night, I texted the Russian and tried to get him to come out to the bar. He wasn’t interested. However, he was quite horny and was looking to meet up with me. He proposed we hit up a remote stretch of beach between Oak Bluff and Vineyard Haven. He told me he’d drive over and pick me up in twenty minutes. I had patchy service everywhere  on the island (Thanks for nothing T-Mobile!), so I was worried he wasn’t going to be able to reach me. Ironically, that night at the bar, I had exceptional service, but almost forty minutes passed by with no word from him. I texted, but I received no response.

I figured he was either running behind or something came up, so I contined to hang out with my friends. Ironically, I ran into my college teammate’s best friend whom I’ve drank with many times in Hoboken. We chatted a bit before he needed to leave, and then I made my way back to the rest of the gang.

I excused myself to go outside to call the Russian and see what was up. I told everyone I’d be back in a minute after I made a phone call. When I got outside, I saw him standing by his car. He apologized for not getting back to me because he forgot his phone at home. I hopped in his car, and we left for the beach. I texted one of my friends to explain I wasn’t coming back in the bar, but I would join up with them later in the night.

We pulled off the road into a small parking lot by the beach. Just as we were walking down to the sand, another car pulled up. We figured we’d need to walk a bit to get out of site of the new arrivals. It didn’t help the moon was bright that night. (Warning: The following may be too graphic for some). When we found a spot, we started to make out. He unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. He got down on his knees in the sand and went to town. He felt amazing. Already, this was much better than the ginger and the construction site. All attention was coming to me, and I was basking in it. He took off his sweatshirt and laid it on the ground and laid down on his back on top of it. I laid on top of him. By now, both our shirts were off and our pants were around our ankles.

We agreed there would be no penetration, but we were going to have our fun in other ways. And, boy did we. We tried many positions and permutations, trying to avoid getting sandy at all times. After we finished decorating the sand, we got dressed carefully and walked back to the car. The last thing I wanted was to spend the rest of the night at the bar with sand in my clothes and boxers. We sat on the hood of the car and shared a cigarette. When it was finished, we hopped in, and he drove me back to town where my friends were drinking and dancing at the bar.

I arrived too late and was not granted access, however, this worked out well because some friends were heading home anyway. I joined them to head home for some late-night mac n’ cheese.

It was nice to have a friend with benefits on the island. He lived on the island year-round and makes his living in various ways, one of which is photography. This would be the last action I got on my vacation, but that didn’t mean the conversation ended there.

Since leaving Martha’s Vineyard, I became Facebook friends with the Russian. The Boston guy with the girlfriend has made it a point to text and email me the dates he is coming to New York City. The ginger photojournalist has texted me once to reiterate the good time he had and to ask how the rest of my vacation was going once he arrived back in D.C. Overall, it was a nice ego boost. Apparently I’m that good and hot enough they felt the need to followup.

Most likely, I will never see any of them again, but I take with me some fun memories and new experiences. Just as my vacation was ending, my priorities began to shift. Sex was starting to severely lose its mystique. It tends to do that when you have meaningless sex. I needed a change and this was a good transition point. When I got home, things were going to be different — Or at least that was the plan…