how often do U get a chance to give someone the shirt off your back? . . . it's a good thing i didn't wear just my Speedo while photographing the more interesting flotsam and jetsam on the beach in extreme close-up late yesterday afternoon . . . naturally i ended up in the meatrack where i immediately spotted somebody whacking off while seated on one of those ubiquitous white plastic chairs featured in the july issue of the Smithsonian . . . who knew something so hideous ever would qualify for design recognition? . . . they call it "a chair for all seasons" . . . yesterday it was more like a throne for Big Dick Dude . . . through the bushes i could see the head of his uncut cock poking above the arm rest like a periscope and the rapid motion of his elbow as he langorously smoked with the other hand.

Big Dick Dude was not an unfamiliar presence . . . for years our attitude towards one another has been studied indifference . . . U know how it is with anonymous cruising: if U saw someone as many times in any other environment U would have a nodding acquaintance but here, seeing the same person repeatedly reminds U how frequently U are there so it's better just to erase their existence.

nothing much was going on elsewhere so i parked myself in the shade at an intersection where i could see the occasional comings and goings . . . Big Dick Dude walked past eventually, stark naked . . . longish hair, Fuller Brush mustache, broad shoulders, slim but well-defined, he looked as if he belonged in an After Dark fashion spread, circa 1972 . . . apparently time has stood still in some parts of Long Island . . . his complete nudity in such a public spot and the absence of a cigarette seemed a little out of the ordinary but i didn't pay much attention except to note i wasn't going to get very far with his kind of competition even if another hot prospect else did show up.

Big Dick Dude finally aroused my curiosity, if nothing else, half an hour later, while i was making a final tour of all the trysting spots including the one where i had been introduced to Tina (i recalled seeing an abandoned bag in the area and wondered if it was still there . . . it was but the thick underbrush impeded further investigation) . . . excuse me Big Dick Dude said as he brushed past me on his way into the Pig Pit, clearly agitated and still naked . . . i'd never heard him speak before . . . the low timbre of his voice would have sounded great on the other end of a phone sex line although i didn't imagine he would begin yelling SHIT! and FUCK! quite so loudly just seconds later.

it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Big Dick Dude couldn't find his clothes . . . was it penis envy that me giggle? . . . that's what u get for being such a show off, buddy . . . it also occurred to me that someone he rejected was out to get even but as the severity of his embarrassing predicament grew more obvious--how would U get back to Sayville without clothes or money from a popular resort community that requires ferry transport and what would U do after U got there?--and the expressions of his rising frustration more frequent and audible--think of the sound a bull elephant makes before he is about to charge and U will get the idea--i softened . . . are u ok? i finally asked . . . did u see anybody with a white bag? he demanded . . . his grey eyes bored into mine and suddenly Big Dick Dude transcended his prime asset and became the Dude Up The Creek . . . it turns out up close he was much better looking than i thought, too.

if i catch the guy that did this i'm going to make him pay bad he warned . . . first things first, fella . . . would it help if i gave u my shirt? . . . with a little luck, the extra large black Russell Athletic singlet i was wearing would reach down to his knees tho that didn't necessarily mean it would cover his privates. . . the cruelty that normally characterizes the meatrack threw the kindness of my offer into high relief . . . the Dude Up The Creek looked at me with grateful surprise . . . yes . . . little did he know that i had even more tricks up my now bare sleeve.

here, follow me . . . i led him to the abandoned bag . . . now what are the odds it would contain a black chiffon evening dress and black heels? . . . i guess better on Fire Island than most places . . . no fuckin' way am i gonna wear this stuff he growled . . . that phone sex voice again, this time at almost the right volume . . . fortunately we also found a sodden beach towel to complete his ensemble . . . the next move was his . . . he thanked me again and we parted company . . . do U think we will acknowledge each other the next time our paths cross?