A Wet Night to Remember..

Part 1
It was the third week of August, and summer was ending. The summer had been uneventful, both in terms of dating, relationships, or for that matter, even sexual encounters. You could say that I had been in a bit of a dry period. I had only come out the year before; back then, the DSM (the international mental health diagnosis manual) defined homosexuality as a mental illness, and a guy could be committed to a mental institution, mugged, or beaten to death, without so much as blink of an eye. So, coming out (at least to myself) the previous year had forced me to deeply re-evaluate not only who I was, but how I looked.

I had spent the previous year rand much of the summer, running, lifting weights, and doing Pilates, avoiding the bars until I felt that I had lost the extra poundage of my previous conflicted life so that I could begin to reflect the Adonis-like gay culture that I at least perceived among the gay men who frequented my gym.

While I knew I looked more muscular, I didn't realize then that the lean chiseled body hidden under the draped vertically striped tank top would cast me in a different light. That re-entry into the neighborhood gay bar, (the first time since January without four layers of clothing) gave me am unanticipated shock that I had never expected. As I walked through the door and inched to the bar, I heard one of the men in the middle of the bar exclaim, "whoa" and suddenly, the bar went quiet except for the din of the juke box in the rear corner.

The room had stopped. Well, at least it felt like it did. I looked up to see what had happened, and then, I realized that every man in the room was staring past me. Actually, not past me. At me. I kept looking to the right, then the left. I could feel my face heating up.

It it had been Hollywood, it would have been a fantasy of a grand entrance come true. However, it was the neighbor gay leather bar, filled with middle-aged guys who smoked a bit too much, and were already at least partially under the influence. I had to keep things in perspective.

I ordered my beer and went to the juke box to pretend to look for a song to play, to escape the brief notoriety, at least until the next hot guy walked into the room. A few older heavily under the influence, men came up to me from behind, committing the obvious faux pas of leaning too close to talk, or trying to align their faces so as to make eye contact. However, as I turned to perch myself with my back against the wall, Frank appeared. He was shorter -maybe 5'8", about my age, and built; a lightly freckled Hispanic with black eyes and longer curly hair. The minute he extended his hand, to introduce himself, I knew I liked him. He was a hair stylist with a bit of a macho edge that was actually endearing when gave his quiet smile. We immediately went to the patio to see if we could chat quietly.

As time went on however, the bar became more crowded and louder, and our beers became warmer.
"Its pretty hot tonight, even out here', I commented.
Frank rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I agree. And I can't say that the bar is getting cooler."
I thought for a moment, and said, "I got an idea. You wanna go someplace where it's a lot quieter and cooler?"
Frank's eyes lite up. "Yes!. What are you thinking?"
I smiled. "I got an idea. Why don't you follow me to my house and we'll drop off your car. Then we'll go for a short ride. The place I am thinking of is close by. I think you're gonna like it."

Frank smiled, and with a nod, we were on the main drag headed to my house. As planned Frank left the car in my driveway, and I headed the car toward Durand-Eastman Park. It was about 6 miles north of my street a quick and breezy drive, as the temperature dropped a few degrees during the ride.

Part 2
We arrived at the beach, and Frank let out a sigh. "Aw, man. This is great. I love it." Little did he know that I did as well. The summer had been busy, and as I had working hard all summer, so had my fantasies. I love the look of wet men. Water on the skin and distorting the hair had been a turn on for years, despite my blindness to my own sexual orientation. But even better, seeing a man in a wet t-shirt or tight wet jeans, even a suit or dress shirt that became transparent was a major turn on. Water was preferred, but I had generalized response. ANYthing that would allow for light to bounce off of the wet clinging material, regardless of color or style, sent me spinning; especially on muscular men. Seeing clothing clinging to itself, hair plastered and pouring off of a man's face was amazing. I wondered what kind of guy Frank was if he was perhaps one of the quiet pristine fashion-minded gentlemen who would take offense at getting a bit wet or messy, or if he was the more rough and tumble athletic kind for whom sweat, dirt, mud, paint, and horseplay by the pool was the essence of male bonding.

In the second that I pondered, I knew that my suggestion to ride up to the beach had been based on my desire to see if Frank, or ANY guy for that matter, could conform to my eroticism.

As we started to get out of the car, I stopped him and said, "Wait a sec." I turned around and pulled my wallet and cell phone out of my jeans, and threw them into the glove compartment. Frank looked confused.

"I always play it safe around water. Especially at night. If we lose one or the other, we'll never find them at this hour." (How could anyone resist my appealing logic?). Frank, as though beating himself up, rolled his eyes and said, "Great idea." And before I could say anything else, he said, "Car keys go with it." My admiration for Frank grew instantly. And the electricity that ran through my brain, my back, and my groin, gave me an undetectable jolt. ("This is going to be fun," I thought to myself.)

We made our way down to where the grassy slope met the sand, and we started to walk parallel to the Great Lake. Two guys that are hot for each other might start making out as soon as privacy allowed. Instead, we choose to walk shoulder to shoulder, occasionally bumping shoulders like a couple of high school football jocks bonding after a couple of drinks sitting on the bleachers in a dark deserted stadium, when no one else is around. After a while we turned around and upon the return trip, found a large log. Of course, the close body contact, the foreplay and eventual deep breathing kissing took over until Frank looked up and said, "This is nice. Man, real nice." We both chuckled.

"I know," I agreed. "Its so much more private, and nicer. And I love being near the water like this. (Pause) You come up here much? Like to swim?"

Frank chuckled. "No. Hardly ever. And yeah. Love to."

We paused for a moment, and I stood up, took off my shoes and sox, and made a token effort to roll up my pant legs. I slowly edged to the water, waiting for a reaction from Frank. As the water licked my feet, I murmured , "It feels great."

Not hearing a response from Frank, I extended my left hand back, motioning him to quietly join me. I glanced down to see his bare feet next to mine. Again, an electrical shock exploded throughout my body when I felt his hand touch mine. I reached around his waist and starting petting more intentionally.

"I haven't been swimming all summer," I confessed quietly.

"Me neither," said Frank. He reached over and around the front of me to rub my chest and his hand glazed over my now stirring crotch. "Hell with it. I'm going in."

Out of the corner of my eye, Frank had started pulling his blue t-shirt off half way through the sentence. He threw the shirt on the log, and tore off his jeans before I could even comprehend, and without hesitation, ran full throttle into the lake and dove in head first, in his Calvin Klein boxer shorts.

Undressing myself was a blur, as I waited for him to come out of the water. When he finally did, the water poured off his broad shoulders, and glistened as it ran down his face and flat long hair, now covering his forehead and ears. Suddenly realized I had gone commando that night, I stopped myself, and thought twice. Skinny dipping with a hot guy on a first date, when he chose to wear his (hot) KC underwear seemed like a social faux pas. Going in with my jeans and belt seemed too good to be true. It was a win-win.

"Come on, wuss," Frank called. I promptly obeyed, and dove in with my jeans. The water was incredible. I couldn't believe I had done it. Electricity no longer shot unexpectedly and spontaneously through my body. It was like being permanently re-wired throughout my body. As I rose to the surface, tossing my hair aside with a head flip, Frank laughed almost incredulously. "You went in with your clothes on? Really?"

"Just my pants. Besides, I went commando and I didn't want to cross a line" I responded as I breast stroked towards his chest. He grabbed me and we kissed. "I've been waiting for us to cross that line all night."

"Hold your breath," I said. We kissed and submerged.

Part 3
Foreplay in the water, even partially clothed is hot. And we made the most of it. About fifteen mintues later, we emerged from the water and crossed to the log where our clothes had been strewn.

"Good thing we didn't bring our wallets and phones," Frank grinned.

I stared him up and down, with our cocks as near erect as they could be under the restrained clothing.
He returned the stare, and said, "Dam, man. You look great when you're wet."

I smiled, and spontaneously, I said, "the wetter, the better." It was the first time I had thought, much less even uttered that phrase. It was an omen of things to come.
"No towels," Frank muttered as he picked up his shirt.

" Oh here. Use my shirt." I grabbed my shirt and immediately dried off his torso with as much eroticism as I could. Frank enjoyed the moment as we began our foreplay again, and then, broke to put on his jeans.

"Wait a minute. What are you going to wear?"

I rolled my eyes and grimaced. "My shirt?" I pulled it back, flicked it open and put it on, instantly with the shirt sticking and caressing every curve in my pecs and abs.

"Here," I said as I tossed Frank his shirt. He shrugged and pulled it over his head. Now it was my turn.
"Dam, you look good when you're wet."

I reached over and pressed my hands against his pectoral muscles so the shirts adhered and soaked the remaining water into his physique.

"Aw man, "Frank whined. "It's all wet now."

"Hmmm. Maybe I like it that way." I knew I had a long awaited moment. I instantly made an outreached move for him. Almost like a football lineman getting ready to rush the opposing side." Frank gave a spontaneous reaction mimicking my move, both of us grinning.

Then Frank uttered the magic words.

"No! Come on, man. No really! I got my clothes on." Then, as I picked him up in a fireman's carry, I headed to the water and heard him whine. "Come on. Really??"

Of course, I had no idea what to do next, but I instinctively knew that we had to get wet together to enhance the eroticism if it was going to work at all. I waded in waist deep, kissed him on the cheek, and said, 'Get over it." I dove under the warm, blue water, submerging both of us.

The next few minutes were the second blur of the evening. But I still remember emerging coming out of the water, nose to nose, pecs to pecs, and crotch to crotch. Frank's otherwise bulky shoulders were now sharply outlined in the moonlight and his biceps and nipples crisply outlined in what might have now passed for a lycra workout shirt. He had slicked his jet black hair to the back and his beautiful chiseled facial features were radiant and even more attractive than when previously let up by the juke box at our first greeting. Almost as though being in an out of body experience, I saw us both, two thirds emerged in the still lake, and quietly for that brief moment; taking each other in visually. Two men with legs now erotically entwined, quietly humping grinding their bulges in a rare moment where each found the other irresistible. The following kiss was long, sensual and intertwined. And as it ended, I heard the most sincere erotic response a WAM guy could ask for.

"You jerk!"

Frank broke the moment with a frontal splash of water in my face, drenching me, giving a half laugh, half giggle, and started to wade awkwardly, half tripping out of the water. I followed. As we reached the beach log, he turned to me and I breathed in, eyes protruding, with my mind a little lightheaded.

My voice betrayed my vulnerable thoughts. I ,stuttered, "You wear wet well." We shared another deep and intense tongue to tongue kiss. Frank now started skimming his hand over his wet shirt where a thing deposit of silt had deposited.

"What do I do now?" Frank mumbled.

"Come on. Let's go back to the house. I know this may sound unbelievable, but I have a washer and dryer. And while we are doing that, I want to take some time lying horizontally." We laughed.

The ride back and entry to the house were unmemorable except for a lot of hand holding and knee rubbing. As we entered the side door, I instructed Frank to take off his shoes, and come up to the bathroom on the second floor. Frank looked at me puzzled.

"Don't undress here. I got a better idea." We walked up the stairs into the bathroom. As I started the shower stream, testing it for temperature, Frank pulled to begin removing his shirt. I quickly slapped my hand on his left pec. "No!."

Frank looked surprised. "Wha..???".

"Well, my boy. We gotta clean anyways. Might as well carry the fun a little longer. Besides.."

I splashed him with a hand full of water across his chest and face, and this time, with a more commanding and longing voice, I confessed, "You wear wet well."

Frank didn't say a word. I will remember to this day, that he placed one arm around my waist, the other around my neck as though to drag me along, and stepped into the shower, gently leading me in with him to the shower tub. Quietly I heard him murmur, "I want you."

I reach for the liquid soap and poured it over his shirt and smoothed down his washboard abs into the inside of his underwear, until I could feel his crotch. I held the pants out and then poured a generous amount of the slick soapy lube onto his erect cock. I compressed my chest against his, and slid up, then down, and then side to side, hearing him moan.

He turned me around and returned the favor, pouring the liquid soap down the back of my pants and then as he started to shampoo my entire body with broad sweeps of his arms, I unbuckled his pants and let them drop in the tub basin. Frank rinsed me off, and I returned the favor. I started to climb out, intent on my path to the bedroom when he grabbed me and said, "Wait. I have an idea."

He repositioned me under the shower head and as the water streamed down my face and chest, he pulled off my shirt and unbuttoned my pants as he reached for the jumbo bottle of hair conditioner on the shelf. Without a word, he poured a very generous amount into both of his hands, and slapped it on both of our chests. As we rubbed, the friction between us, often a turn on for me, dissipated into a smooth erotic, deeply sensual sensation that left our nipples erect, and our cocks pressed straight up against our abdominals. The unrestrained groans and gropes were interrupted by long deep, tongue to tongue entwined wet kisses, slurping as the shower water made the interaction even more sensual. On occasion, we would pull back out and re-lube each others' bodies and cocks. Half way throught the second round, I lubed Frank's ass, and with my middle finger (would you expect something else), start to message and finger his ass, allowing the condition to gently lube his hole. Frank's moaning then took on an even more exaggerated energy. The electricity of finding another wet man who wanted to be wet with me, both fully clothed and now naked, slimed up with the slick conditioner sent the previous electrical shocks throughout my brain. I felt blinded by the white light of ecstasy.

On the third round or re-lubing, our cocks now fully erect and at their most intense suspension, I heard Frank whisper, 'This is so hot. I think I'm gonna cum." I was struggling to respond through my gasps of delight, as I felt my erection escalating to full pressure explosion. "Me too."
I paused.

"Together?"

Frank nodded, and we locked eyes taking control of our own cocks, trying to synchronize our rhythm and progress, only with the words, "Yeah?" which each would respond 'Yeah' quietly, to egg the others' arousal. Within less than a minute, and still uncertain how it happened, I strained the words, "Now" and we our buddies peaked into a full contraction, straining to ejaculate the cum which had been building for the past ninety minds. My hands pulled his back into my abs, and my fingers kept gently rubbing whatever part of his back they could find despite the shaking and uncontrollable convulsing that accompanied our orgasm; Frank had grasped the back of my neck and was now cradling the back of head with his other arm around my buttocks. However, we mutually exploded into a loud higher pitch grunt, much like lifting a heavy deadlift in the weight room, but with a much longer duration and expanse of breath. As we finished, the only sound left in the room was our heavy panting, and the sound of the running shower.

The rest of the night was a rendition of mundane tasks. Getting more towels, cleaning up the bathroom, running clothes in the washing machine on a light cycle. We slept soundly that night, in a spooned position, our now cool and exhausted bodies spooned together on my queen size bed (what other size bed would a gay man have?) To this day, I always keep two bottles of oil-based hair shampoo in my shower. Just in case.

Part 4
I cannot remember why Frank and I did not connect again. Maybe because the crazy school session had started. Maybe we lost interest. Maybe I just lost his telephone number.

However, about twelve years later, I was attending an AIDS fundraiser, and as I was working my way to the dessert bar, I felt a tap on my shoulder. At first, I didn't recognize him. He had gained a bit of weight, and his hair line receded ever so slightly.

Frank wasn't sure if I was being polite or cagey when asking if I remembered him, I hesitantly said yes. Then he said, 'You remember. We went to the beach together. We went swimming and then you threw me in."

Busted.

I didn't know what to say if he was going to call me an ass, or hit on me. Instead, he touched my arm, locked eyes with me and said, "I never forgot that night. I had the most fun I have ever had when meeting someone."

After a pause, he looked at me and said, "It was the best date I ever went on."

I smiled, and said, "I do remember." Then, A night to remember?"

He reached up, gently pulled my face forward towards his, and gave me a sweet wet kiss. "What do you think?"