Big Beach Trip

I love it when almost in spite of myself--okay, almost entirely in spite of myself--things work out perfectly. They sure did this weekend.

Big was in NYC this weekend. I had a standing invitation from Friend and (Former) Landlord to be his guest out in the Fire Island Pines. A few weeks ago, I suggested to Big that we head there, and got word from F&L that the last weekend in June would work. And, typical of not-detail-oriented me, that was sort of that as far as I was concerned. Last week, I decided I'd best give F&L a call to confirm, and see if we would have the pleasure of his company. And in trying to get in touch with him, I realized that I had copied his phone number incorrectly. Apologies to the kind woman in Manhattan I called over and over again hoping that it was some cellular malfunction. And then, on Thursday, F&L called me and left a message, inquiring about restaurant recommendations in a city not New York.

Yikes! Would that mean that he had forgotten? That there would, in fact, be no beach trip for Big and me?

I started to hold my breath.

The plan was that I would head up to NYC on Friday night after my second session with tattoo artist extraordinaire, Joe Rose. This would mean bording Faithful Companion. So on Thursday, I called the dog bording place. They informed me with regret that they were booked solid for the weekend. Okay. Not a problem. I have a back up bording place. And the back up bording place was also booked solid for the weekend.

Uh oh.

I called Big, and let him know that unless I came up with something or one of the places had a cancellation, it would have to be a Saturday morning to Sunday evening trip. And told him that I had cause for concern about the trip t the Pines.

Big took the news well. I delivered it not so well.

What the hell kind of boy am I? Is that how I serve my Sir? Getting all daffy doodles with making plans?

My anxiety level was through the roof.

What if I fucked it up? What if my Sir and I are forced to find a hotel room available for only Saturday night, in Manhattan, on Pride Weekend? Shame on me. Better believe I won't let anything like this happen again.

Anyway, I got my deceased sister's ex-husband's cousin to walk my dog on Saturday night and Sunday morning. So that was taken care of. And on Saturday morning, I had the presence of mind to check my AOL email account (AOL is a place I don't go much anymore), and sure enough, there was email from F&L giving me the name and phone number for the house man.

And, as it turned out, it is best not to plan to do anything after I have a session with tattoo artist extraordinaire Joe Rose. When I showed up on time at 6 pm on Friday, Joe told me that he was running two hours behind schedule. Like all great artists, I guess he can't be rushed when he's doing his art. Or something.

Well, not a problem. I headed to Mother's Restaurant in New Hope, where I worked some twenty years ago, and had a nice dinner, after sitting on the porch of Starbucks and enjoying a latte while watching a verrrry dramatic thunderstorm. I got back to the Lion's Den tattoo parlour, and Joe was still not quite ready for me. Not a problem. I sat and read a book on Norse Mythology.

I didn't end up going under the needle until 9:30 pm.

Such is life.

It had been my hope and expectation that during this session, the length of chain would wind from where we left off at my kneecap up to my butt. But Joe was leery of blackouts. He said it would be a disaster if he got the stencil on and the lights went out, and thought that shading what he had already done would be a better use of time.

Shading what we had already done...

So just so we're clear, it would not be the meaty and muscley flesh of my thighs we'd be working on, but once again my ankle, achilles tendon, shin, under the knee, and the kneecap.

Omigod.

More pain. More excruciating pain.

But, even though it was painful, it went a lot quicker. And it wasn't as painful as when he was doing the heavy outlining. I made noise, but it wasn't at the level of Civil War Field Hospital Amputation Without Anesthetic like it was last time.

But afterwards, at 11:30, I was pretty wrecked. It would have been a pretty bad scene if I had tried to drive to NYC in the wake of that. I wanted bed. And sleep. And quickly. And that's what I got.

*****

Sooooo, the next morning I headed up to NYC. I got to Big's hotel, picked him up, and after fighting traffic getting crosstown, we made it through the Midtown Tunnel and were crawling out the LIE in no time. We made it to the Ferry at 2 pm.

I hadn't had anything to eat since I left the house at 9:30 am, so we had hotdogs. I started something of a trend, reminding everybody waiting for the ferry just how good and how satisfying a hot dog can be. What is as good as a hot dog? Not a lot.

I realized that this would be my first trip out to the Pines without Faithful Companion along. He was always the biggest dog on the ferry, and as usual, the other Pines-bound dogs were about the size of your grandmother's pocketbook. (I'll make it up to you, buddy! Promise!)

Finally the Ferry pulled out into the Great South Bay, and Finally, Big and I disembarked at the Pines.

Right from the gitgo, Big was charmed. He found, I think, all the things to like about the Pines that I like. It wasn't what he was expecting--I think that would be something a little more rustic--but, but he liked what he found there.

We were warmly greeted when we reached the house on Beach Hill. We took a walk so I could show Big some of the sights, and together we made a Very Important Discovery: there's a Starbuck's in the Pines!!!

Well, not a real Starbucks, but this place opened up that 'Proudly Brews Starbucks Coffee,' and they can make a latte with that coffee, so I was all fuckin' set. And so was Big.

How perfect that the Sir I serve is also a Starbuck's afficionado?

We hit the sumptuous hot tub (see last year's photos), and killed time before dinner.

Ah! Dinner in the Pines! The house gathers, the wine flows, conversation ensues. I love that aspect of Fire Island Life.

Alas, this years houseman (the past two succumbed to crystal meth), is not quite the best of cooks. But the filet mignon was not too bad at all, so I didn't complain. Not getting dessert was a definite disappointment however.

After dinner, Big and I retired downstairs. I put my head in my Sir's lap, and very quickly was dreaming beautiful boy dreams. I don't remember going to bed that night, but I sure remember waking up. My Sir's dick was rock hard in the crack of my ass. It was time once again for this boy to be bred. Yeeee Hah!

And it was a pretty magnificent breeding, too.

Sir and I had breakfast, and then hit the beach.

Ahhhh... sun, surf, sand. And Sir! What's better? Not a lot.

Alas, I couldn't do much as far as enjoying the surf. My ankle is still pretty lame, and there was a strong undertow judging from the angle the waves were coming in, so I didn't chance it.

After the beach, we headed back to the house, took showers, did the hot tub thing, had lunch, and with heavy hearts, headed to the Ferry. We had more Starbuck's while waiting for the Ferry.

I noticed that many of the boys are sporting camo shorts this year. Reflecting, perhaps, the fact that ours is a nation at war? Hmmm.

Then, east on the Sunrise Highway to JFK, where I left Big at Terminal 6 so he could catch his JetBlue flight back to SF.

*sigh*

What a weekend. I love the Pines. I love my Sir. And there I was with my Sir in the Pines.


Oh yeah. When we met up on Saturday morning, Big had a present for me. A bear. As in a teddy bear. ("Every boy should have a bear.") Around this bear's neck is a little silver chain. A bear to keep me company during these interstitial times. A bear to talk to when I'm missing Big. Every boy should have a bear.

And tomorrow, it's back to work. Back to screwing things, and screwing things up. Just five days, and then I get on a plane and fly to Southern California. Next weekend, I'll be in San Diego, enjoying the company of Alpha, Roadkill, and a few other men who hold a special place in my heart.

And the weekend after that, Big and I will be tooling around Los Angeles.

Sweet.

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