Gay Head
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Loading ...For those of you who don’t know, Gay Head is the name of a small town on Martha’s Vineyard, now renamed to Aquinna (I can’t imagine why they renamed it). It is known for its fabulous beach and stunning red cliffs overlooking the beach.
On my recent vacation, I decided to go there for the day. Feeling a little brave, I decided to head for the Northwest end of the beach. This is where bathing suits are optional. As I soon found out, most people opted not to wear one.
However, far from the 20-something meat market I expected (hoped for?), I found it to be just a place where people went to feel “as one with nature”. Very comfortable atmosphere.
So, I decided blend in and “Free Willy”. There were naked 7-year-olds, naked 70-year-olds, groups of friends, whole families. People were there just to have a good time. No one was there to stare and gawk (well, there was this one pervert - but, hey, it was my first time).
If you ever decide to go let me give you a bit of advice: SUNBLOCK! No, I didn’t find this out the hard way, I planned ahead. But a lot of people didn’t. I saw lots of pink breasts
there. Ouch. I saw some women who must have thought to put on sunblock everywhere, except for their butt-cracks! Some people call this part of anatomy “where the sun don’t shine”,
but believe me, it shone there a little too much for some people. Combine this with the fact that the Vineyard has lots of Mexican restaurants, and… Oh, man, I can’t even imagine the pain. I don’t think that the devil himself could come up with a worse torture.
Another piece of advice: If you are a man, and go to a nude beach to pick up women, well, forget it. You’re not there with your cool sports car, or flashy 3-piece-suit, or whatever, to impress women with. It’s just you. And let’s just say that that ocean water is cold.
Let’s face it, your most impressive feature is, well, not so impressive. “Hey, baby, check THIS out! Did I say something funny?”
So I didn’t meet too many women. At one point, while standing in the water, I was talking to a guy. Normal conversation. Where are you from, yada yada yada, I come down here with my
family every year, yada yada, so those must be your wife’s tits I’m staring at, yada, what do you do for a living, yada.
Suddenly it dawned on me that I’m standing here, talking to a 52-year-old fat naked man, from Connecticut, who is wearing nothing but a bad toupe, and he’s trying to sell me life
insurance. A decidedly low-quality situation. The devil had, at last, come up with a worse torture.
Dude, I hafta go, yada.
So I decided to take a walk up the beach to see the sites, if you know what I mean. I saw a woman lying on her stomach, facing away from the beach. Her husband (I assume) was lying
next to her. He had his hand on her buttocks. Well, actually, a little lower. In between her legs. And I thought, “Gee, what a nice man. He’s protecting his wife from getting a sunburn on her ’special place’. And the poor man, he must have been in a horribly disfiguring accident, because one of his fingers was missing. Wait a minute - Oh Man! I wish my finger was missing right about now!”
As I was coming back, I saw a funny sight. I wish I had a camera. OK, all day I wish I had a camera, but THIS was a true Kodak moment. There was a woman sitting on the beach, staring blankly out to sea. Fully clad in nature’s garb. Legs slightly spread. She was eating a bag of potato chips. And what an advertisement for the chips! All I could see was the logo between her legs… “Lay’s”.
