It’s relatively cool now but the heat over the last week has been blistering. I’ve been guzzling so much Gatorade and water that I’m sloshing when I walk. What came to mind just a few moments ago were my younger days and the things we’d do to beat the heat, like going down to the Brandywine and just stripping down to your underwear and plunging into the cool waters.
I thought about camping in the woods along the Brandywine, shielded from the blistering sun by all the trees, breathing in all that earthiness and while I never thought about this in terms like being one with nature, well, I was reminded just how much ‘nature’ can take place on a hot summer day. Like going to a favorite spot along the bank of the Brandywine, secluded but not too hard to find; stripping down to your birthday suits with the fellas and then having the nerve to hop onto the rope swing, braving some serious rope burn to launch yourself into those cooling waters.
Today, it seems to me that those trips always seemed to include a lot of playing grab-ass with each other, either overtly or under the cover of water and how such things could ignite a heat that the cool waters of the Brandywine could never begin to extinguish. I dunno… there was just something about having one of the fellas come up behind you and, as he wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to dunk you, you could feel his erection pressing up against you, that not-so-subtle message that he had something on his mind other than just some watery roughhousing. Or maybe someone wasn’t so subtle and just eased up to you while up to your neck in that wet goodness and spread your cheeks so that he could get into you – and while trying to not make it look like what it really was; that part always made me laugh because if you saw two guys standing so close together and they both had “that look” on their faces, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on and the two guys who got caught in the act would now be razzed unmercifully… even as they sought some of that action themselves.
I thought about being in that cold water so long that lying butt-ass naked on a hot rock sounded like a very good thing to do – things like hypothermia just didn’t cross our young minds, not that we knew what it was or could even spell it. I thought about all those times I was lying on such a rock, shivering slightly but happy to have the chance to escape the heat, only to have someone lie down next to me and ask, “It is okay if I suck you?” Or, for those guy who kept trying to practice being subtle, listening them loudly opine on how nice it might be to suck some dick or be sucked… or fuck/be fucked. I knew that if someone asked, “Do you know what would be nice right about now?” they weren’t talking about ice cream or anything else so mundane.
Nope – they wanted to have sex, plain and simple. Then it would be on; lots of sucking and fucking until our maturing cocks would eventually fail to rise… and then it was back into the water to cool down again as well as cleaning ourselves up and, if it wasn’t too late in the day, time enough for just a bit more sex – unless it was an overnight camping trip; if that were the case, the sex would continue on through the night and, sometimes, under the guise of being so close together to protect ourselves from all the wild animals we imagined roamed the woods… like squirrels are such terrifying creatures. Yeah, we could think of some pretty dumb reasons to have sex with each other under the stars…
I know I used to spend quite a bit of time with a guy’s cock in my ass, listening to him grunting and groaning with the hypnotic sounds of the Brandywine in the background as it ran its course, thinking about how good it felt to be humped out in the wild. Or having similar thoughts when it was my turn to ream out some butt, losing myself in what I was doing as well as the sounds of the night around me.
Hah, I’m surprised that any of us managed to get any sleep when we camped out like that!
Almost makes me wish we didn’t have to grow up; it makes me wish that the Brandywine hadn’t lost its former grandeur, that its waters were still so fresh and clean and that the area wasn’t so over-developed to make skinny-dipping not a smart thing to do (the cops just don’t have a sense of humor about that). I think what I really miss about those hot summer days is the loss of innocence and that spirit of being carefree enough to do these things even though we knew we shouldn’t do them.
Jeez, I miss some of the good old days…