Body Surfing

When Robert Moses designed the public recreational areas along the shores of Long Island, he was sure to give just enough space for cars to pass under overpasses. He didn’t want buses from the city, filled ghetto rats, washing up on the shores of the white, pristine Atlantic beaches.

Despite this, Jones Beach remains accessible by train and bus for anyone and the public park has become one of the hottest spots north of the Outer Banks.

A little east of the dunes of Jones Beach, a little further out the long extended island, before Fire Island lights up the night sky, there is an enchanted plot of sand where urbanites without cars can swim out to with a $30 cab ride.

It’s the real Robert Moses State Park and people are permitted to bathe nude in the sun there.

I laid out my towel and spread on my level 30 lotion refusing to take of my trunks because I adore tan lines.

The fat Long Island Broads with their big tits and hair to match were at first appalling, not to mention their beer bellied husbands with no snorkels.

“Where’s the nude gay section?” I asked.

“This is it. We’re all one big family out here,” my lover explained.

“These straight people are just like homos,” I said and suddenly got the urge to pull off my red Spedos and go with the flow.


“Oh, what the hell, I kinda like this, I’m the hottest thing out here!” I said while watching a nudist with a trunk that almost touched the sand walk by and kick sand in our faces.

The waves were huge that day. Very few were brave enough to venture into the rip currents, but Shawn and I followed the man who we later nick-named Robert Moses into the fierce waters.

“Dig tag, you’re it!” Shawn shouted above the white choppy waves.

I smiled as he secretly grabbed me under the green ocean waters.

“Go touch it. Just pretend like a wave accidentally pushed you into him,” my partner tempted.

So I did. I swam right up to Robert Moses and grabbed it with both hands.

It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It was soft in mushy in the cold Atlantic waters and did absolutely nothing for me.

“Let’s body surf,” I suggested trying to pull my lover away from the closet-case freak in the waters of the state park.

The stranger followed us closer to shore as we waited for the next big wave to come up on us.

The ocean reached out and grabbed our bare asses and pulled us high towards the sky.

The water below us disappeared and we rode the crest of the huge wave.

As the wave crashed us down, I turned sideways to brace myself for the crash directly atop the grainy sand.

The power of the sea brush- burned my ass cheeks badly.

The three of us walked naked, back to our towels with our long tails between our legs. Blood dripped from my ass cheek at the spot where Mother Nature kissed me.

“Why are they all looking at my ass? I thought they were straight,” I asked.

“Oh my God, look at your ass,” the straight nudist guy said with disgust.