Sunday, January 8, 2017

[thorngay] Sagging + A guy in the clearing (story) by Thorn



Have u sagged? Was it good? What happened?

Email the group thorngay (AT) yahoogroups.com and spill the beans!

Thorn
==================================
A guy in the clearing




An original story by Thorn (distributed on Thorngay Yahoo Groups to all members)

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and I didn't want to be stuck in my apartment. So I pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed the car keys and headed out to a forest walk just out of town.

I often went there in nice weather and caught a bit of sunshine. Although it was close to town It was very quiet and I would take my shirt off walk around for a bit in just my shorts, but usually, before long, I would get so horny the shorts would come off too... at least if I was reasonably sure there was no-one around. I just love the feeling of the sun and the breeze wafting on my naked skin.

 

I arrived, parked the car and walked into the woods. It was a beautiful summer's day with just the distant buzz of insects going about the their business and the occasional chirp of birds.

I walked in some distance into the forest and didn't see a soul. By now my T-shirt was off and I was wearing just my shorts and feeling quite horny. I was looking forward to the usual routine of losing the shorts, getting really horny with being naked and the danger of being seen, then wanking off in a glorious frenzy,

 
I reached my favorite clearing where the shorts usually come off and I was starting to slide them down, when I realized I had company.

There was a figure lying on the ground. All I could see were naked knees pointing skyward out of the long grass. 




There was a ridge up to the right and I realized I could get up through the undergrowth and get a better look. As I climbed up to higher ground I could not believe my eyes. It was a young lad, about my own age I would guess and he was quite clearly wanking although I couldn't yet see his whole body. The arm was moving rhythmically and his T-shirt and possibly his shorts were lying beside him.

My heart pounding and moving as quietly as I could I crept up to a higher position where I could see more clearly. Sure enough he was working it hard and it looked just beautiful. He was about 19 or 20 years old I guess. Slim but not too skinny, with dirty blond hair. Beautiful. I crept closer, now with my shorts round my knees, wanking as I watched this guy rhythmically pumping his rock hard, beautiful dick.



I decided to crawl forwards to get closer to the action. Then, horror, I knelt on the inevitable twig which snapped with a loud crack.The guy stopped wanking immediately and sat up, looking around. He must have spotted me as I was now only about 20 feet away and instinctively reached for his clothes. I decided to go for broke and stood up, with my shorts around my knees still wanking and said. "No, don't stop, I'll come and join you".


  

Without waiting for a response I walked over and lay down beside him. Still wanking. He reached out and grabbed my dick and started to wank me, I grabbed his. We lay there for some 20 minutes saying nothing but just wanking and exploring each other's bodies with our hands. Then it was clear that he was about to cum. I was ready too and we both exploded over each other and the surrounding grass, with happy contented moans.

Walks in the woods were not so solitary in the future and with Stephen there, we both encouraged each other to try more and more daring locations for our exploits.

Thorn



(--The end--)

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The middle photo above is one of this blog's author .

Hostel stays: Fond memories of male nudity among strangers


For those who are interested, here are our members' memories of youth hosteling, and the joys of naked boys on road or rail trips.

Note from Kelly , blog editor: The stories below are from email group exchanges on the YMNA, Young Men's Nudist Association, a Google group.  The longest ones are written by David or atitlan, moderator of the group. I also have written many times about this topic, and find the situations one encounters in hostels to be wonderful ways to get to know people and find out things about oneself in the process. ]



If you wanted to travel when I was a teenager, it was either unaffordable - and lonely - hotel rooms or it was youth hostels, which were cheap and always had people to talk to. I stayed in numerous youth hostels in Britain, Germany, Austria, Italy and Israel. No two were alike. They might be a 16-bedded farmhouse in the middle of nowhere or a huge city building with dorms each holding 100. A hot shower was a luxury only some offered; at other hostels it might be a cold-water morning wash from a basin. There were chores to be done. At one mountain hostel I had to go out and gather wood so in the evening we could huddle around a welcome fire with only gas lanterns to take us to bed.

A real feeling of camaraderie could build up. Strangers became fast friends, particularly if they met up again at another hostel later on. When I was 17, I hitch-hiked up to Scotland and found myself constantly bumping into a handsome dark-haired French lad of the same age. His name was Thierry and he wanted to be a brain surgeon. One evening I persuaded him and a girl to go for a walk in the forest outside our Scottish castle hostel. I still remember the intense look he gave me and the feeling of his hand on my shoulder but we were not alone, nothing happened and we never met again.

I am not sure why you were told all Americans slept nude because that was not my experience of Americans in youth hostels. I slept nude and so did some of the others in the male dorms but most seemed to wear what we in Britain call y-fronts. These did not hide much when it was time to get up, with morning erections producing tent poles. Lying on a bottom bunk, I would find it difficult not to laugh when the top bunk occupant clambered down, his tented underwear only inches from my face. I always preferred the top bunk to sleep naked.......


The oddest thing about the dorms was the casual nudity. Because we as strangers got to know each other so quickly, we would carry on conversations in the dorm. I remember in Italy a young cyclist with a pleasant but not handsome face getting undressed while talking to me, only for this ugly duckling to turn into a swan. He was hiding a spectacular swimmer's muscled physique. He then stood there naked and full-frontal until he had finished what he wanted to tell me.


My most eye-popping experience of youth hostel nudity came when I was backpacking around Israel.  I was staying next to the Dead Sea, alone in a long line of
inter-connected communal showers after a sticky day on a bus through the West Bank. Suddenly the shower room was invaded by a dozen American 16 year-olds looking very fit in their white towels. These were quickly discarded and it became clear they were far more dirty than me, covered in mud from a caving expedition. They were full of excited chatter about the events of the day. I was unsure where to look. With difficulty, I averted my gaze and got back to washing myself. Until that is I was aware of three of them crowding around and almost touching me. Please could I tell them how to turn the showers on, they had never seen a faucet like these. So I had to give them a demonstration. A testing time!

The attached pictures try to convey some of this. A few of the hostels could be old and basic, like the first photo, others might be more comfortable like the second.



The third image illustrates the camaaderie. The fourth an impression of what it was like huddled together in those open showers.
atitlan

On Wed, 13 Apr 2011 22:03 +0200, "Fred Stein" <fredstein3@hotmail.com> wrote:

Bring back happy memories. I was very young in the early 70´s - before the interrail - lifting around Europe - living in Youth Hostels! In a way when the world still was innocent for a young man. Think of some stories but probably a bit off-topic - f.i. how I was taught that all Americans sleep nude (at the Youth Hostel in Hannover) .... I would love to hear stories from your days meeting guys a bit more simple as today...
Sorry for my English - not my native language ....



  Same experience here, Atitlan. I traveled much of Europe via International Youth Hostel Association. In more cases than not, the hostels were reasonably modern with large dorm areas -- a dozen or more sleeping areas in a room. Even those which were older, and re-structured from former usages (large homes, etc.) had shared accommodation with "total strangers". Nudity -- and by that, I mean, non-sexual and comfortable nudity -- was common: changing clothing, sleeping, showering and traveling to-from the showers. Conversations like, "I have 60 Swedish kroner. They're worth just a little more than a French franc. I'm leaving early in the morning on the ferry and won't be able to get to a bank. Do you have enough francs to exchange for me?" were conducted nude, and the exchange made.
Admittedly, this was in the 1960's and 70's. It was definitely a "different time" from today's common "shame in nudity".
Alic

---------- Another Forwarded response to the above messages ----------

Well, thank you Fred! For those who are interested, here is my memory of youth hostelling.
If you wanted to travel when I was a teenager, it was either unaffordable - and lonely - hotel rooms or it was youth hostels, which were cheap and always had people to talk to. I stayed in numerous youth hostels in Britain, Germany, Austria, Italy and Israel. No two were alike. They might be a 16-bedded farmhouse in the middle of nowhere or a huge city building with dorms each holding 100. A hot shower was a luxury only some offered; at other hostels it might be a cold-water morning wash from a basin. There were chores to be done. At one mountain hostel I had to go out and gather wood so in the evening we could huddle around a welcome fire with only gas lanterns to take us to bed.

A real feeling of camaraderie could build up. Strangers became fast friends, particularly if they met up again at another hostel later on. When I was 17, I hitch-hiked up to Scotland and found myself constantly bumping into a handsome dark-haired French lad of the same age. His name was Thierry and he wanted to be a brain surgeon. One evening I persuaded him and a girl to go for a walk in the forest outside our Scottish castle hostel. I still remember the intense look he gave me and the feeling of his hand on my shoulder but we were not alone, nothing happened and we never met again.


I am not sure why you were told all Americans slept nude because that was not my experience of Americans in youth hostels. I slept nude and so did some of the others in the male dorms but most seemed to wear what we in Britain call y-fronts. These did not hide much when it was time to get up, with morning erections producing tent poles. Lying on a bottom bunk, I would find it difficult not to laugh when the top bunk occupant clambered down, his tented underwear only inches from my face. I always preferred the top bunk to sleep naked.......



The oddest thing about the dorms was the casual nudity. Because we as strangers got to know each other so quickly, we would carry on conversations in the dorm. I remember in Italy a young cyclist with a pleasant but not handsome face getting undressed while talking to me, only for this ugly duckling to turn into a swan. He was hiding a spectacular swimmer's muscled physique. He then stood there naked and full-frontal until he had finished what he wanted to tell me.



My most eye-popping experience of youth hostel nudity came when I was backpacking around Israel. I was staying next to the Dead Sea, alone in a long line of
inter-connected communal showers after a sticky day on a bus through the West Bank. Suddenly the shower room was invaded by a dozen American 16 year-olds looking very fit in their white towels. These were quickly discarded and it became clear they were far more dirty than me, covered in mud from a caving expedition. They were full of excited chatter about the events of the day. I was unsure where to look. With difficulty, I averted my gaze and got back to washing myself. Until that is I was aware of three of them crowding around and almost touching me. Please could I tell them how to turn the showers on, they had never seen a faucet like these. So I had to give them a demonstration. A testing time!

The attached pictures try to convey some of this. A few of the hostels could be old and basic, like the first photo, others might be more comfortable like the second. The third image illustrates the camaraderie. The fourth an impression of what it was like huddled together in those open showers.

Stay bare
atitlan