One of the more colorful stories/experiences from this past weekends' jaunt to Fire Island (aka, the gayest place on earth) involved me making out with the oldest, sorry, most "mature" man I have ever taken the pants off of.
At the start of the night, my friend and I were waiting for a water taxi to take us to the Pines, when I struck up a conversation with a handsome guy, probably in his late 40's/early 50's. Nice guy....we talked about how this was my first time to the island, and the weather and blah, blah, blah.
After my friend and her friends checked out this cabaret show, we took the last water taxi back to Cherry Grove (where we were staying). Handsome Guy was also waiting for the boat, and inquired about each other's evenings...
While on the rocky boat ride back, he did little things, like touch my thigh to empathize a point he was trying to make. Since I was drunk as hell I didn't mind, and I also, since I was drunk, I was being my charming self.
Once we got back to the Grove, my friends and her friend went out for (more) drinks. Once they were tired I decided...WELL, WHY THE FUCK NOT? and knocked on Handsome Guy's door [NOTE: I'm not a stalker...earlier in the day I noticed his place was directly across from the place I was staying at].
He peeked through the curtains, and looked surprised, to say the least, to see me standing on his porch. Eagerly, he let me in, and after, um, 30 seconds of small talk we were making out on his bed. Pants came off and we were having fun...
...until, that is, he suggested we do some Poppers...to have "more fun". I was having plenty of fun as is, and didn't feel the need to add shady drugs into the mix. But he was insistent, and although drunk as all hell, I held my ground, got up, and put my pants on and walked the fuck out of that scene.
FUCK THAT NOISE.