The Call of Nature


 Art by Michael Kirwan 

 Story by Parker Vreeland

— originally published in Playguy Magazine - February, 1995 issue —


— He's hornier than the average Park Ranger. —


It was an absolutely glorious spring day, and I was nearly beside myself at the thought that I wouldn't have to play hooky from work to enjoy it. For once the weather had cooperated on my day off. I scurried around and got all of my errands done by noon, and was soon on my way out to Hippie Hollow.

Hippie Hollow, I have discovered, actually has a national reputation. I suppose that's not too surprising, as it's the only state-run nude beach in the country. It's located on Lake Travis about twenty miles west of Austin, and is really nothing more than limestone cliffs tumbling down into a man-made lake. But back in the sixties, the city fathers thought it would be far more desirable to have the local hippie commune located in a remote recreation area, than to have it right on the town's doorstep. The sixties died hard in Austin, and some of the free-wheeling, free-love ethics of the time held on, out at the lake.

It's probably the reputation of "free love" that has made the Hollow a by-word in the gay community. Certainly in the seventies and eighties there was plenty to be had out there, and to an extent there still is. But the park rangers have become a little bit more conscientious about that aspect of their policing duties, and it's not quite the sexual saturnalia it once was.

one of this was concerning me that afternoon, as I am not by nature interested in at fresco sex, especially when the possibility of fire ants or snakes is involved. I go out to the lake to get some sun, drink a few beers, do a little innocent cruising, and socialize with friends. On this particular day, I ran into my cousin Kermit.

"Hey, hey!" he called, lounging under the large white beach umbrella that he always lugged out to the rocks. "Pull up a boulder and make yourself at home."

"Hmmm. Looks like you've got a good spot here," I said, peering down to the next level, where several members of the University of Texas Men's Water Polo Team (or so Kermit claimed) were spread out, sans suits.

"Yes, if one likes chicken-of-the-sea."

One tanned, lean, blond body rolled over onto his back to expose a rather stupendous hard-on. "I like, I like!"

"Oh, you're incorrigible!" Kermit got up, adjusting his Speedo. I could tell that he was deciding whether or not to slip it off. "It must be something in the blood. I'm going to take a stroll up through the shrubs to see what I can see," he said, leaving his bathing suit on.

Kermit climbed up past the trail and into the tangle of live oaks and cedars, loudly singing Sondheim's "Into The Woods" in a falsetto that rang against the walls of the cove. Chuckling at his antics, I settled down to work on my tan and reread Joe Kennan's "Blue Heaven" for the third time.

About forty-five minutes later, Kermit came back with a dejected look on his face.

"What's the matter? The cupboard all bare up there?"

"Darling, everything's bare up there ... but nothing that tickles me fancy. All duds and no studs." He sighed. "Besides, I've done them all already."

I looked up the hill. "Is it really all that busy up there?" I had to evacuate my first beer, and didn't want to make the ten-minute walk back to the bathrooms.

"You should be safe, dear. Most of the action goes on two coves down. This one is too close to the straight end." The Hollow tends to segregate by orientation, and the straights aren't as 'active' as we are."

"Perfect. Be back in two shakes--"

"Don't even say it. Just run along; I'll hold down the fort." He picked a pair of opera glasses out of his back pack and started to study the rocks of the next cove. I trudged my way up the hill.

Once I was out of sight of the trail below, I found a tree near which I could get a steady foothold, and popped out my cock to take a leak. I was just giving it the last few shakes, when a deep voice boomed out behind me and made me jump and dribble on my shorts.

"All right, what's going on here?"

I turned to see a ruggedly handsome, blond park ranger, eyes well hidden behind dark sunglasses, frowning at me with his tanned arms folded across a not-inconsiderable chest.

"Oh, ah, sorry," I said sheepishly. "Just answering the call of nature."

He didn't break into an understanding smile. "This is state property sir, and inappropriate behavior is not condoned and is punishable by law."

My embarrassment seeped into annoyance. "Okay. I'm sorry. I guess I'll walk down to the bathrooms next time."

"This sort of behavior is not acceptable in the public restrooms either. If you continue to resist complying with these ordinances, I will have no choice but take you into the office and prosecute."

I stared at him like he was crazy, which I was fairly certain he was.

"Look, officer, or whatever you're called, taking a leak in the woods is hardly a felony. I said I was sorry if you're going to be all that upset about it, but--"

"Sir, this area is well known to be the sight of lewd encounters made illegal under the Texas Penal Code, Section 2I.O6. I came upon you in said locale with your genitals exposed and being handled in a suspicious manner."

Before even thinking I blurted out, "Oh, for crying out loud! You think I was beating off in the bushes? I wasn't ... but anyway, what would be the point? Usually if people are coming up the hill to do something, it's with somebody else." It was all I could do not to add, "And if you weren't being such a Gestapo ass, I wouldn't mind doing it with you." Despite our contretemps, I couldn't help but notice how attractive he was.

His chocolate brown polyester uniform actually fit: the short sleeves hugged his biceps and the shorts encased his thighs in a manner that was highly erotic. The way his chest hair peeped out of the slightly open collar quickly had my imagination following it across his pecs and abdomen and down into his-well now, what was this? Those fine-fitting brown shorts seemed to be showing a rather animate bulge in the crotch.

My welI-practiced eye took in all this in a heartbeat. Our conversation was unfortunately still at a confrontational stage. But now I had hopes that this was going to be something other than an annoyance ... unless there were fire ants around.

"Okay," I continued. "I guess if you want to take me in, we best get it over with. Let's go." I turned to start down the hill with Ranger Rick right behind me. Just as I was trying to come up with my next move, Fate intervened and made it for me. My foot slid in some mud and I lost my balance, nearly tumbling down the hill. Fortunately, a strong pair of hands caught me under my arms, and in an instant I was pulled back against some tightly strained brown polyester.

"Are you all right?" he asked, still sounding official but not quite so gruff.

"Yeah, thanks." He wasn't letting go. I leaned back into him and, sure enough, my butt's unerring sense of direction landed it square onto a rock-hard mound that was really no longer a mound, but a thick shaft of flesh. Wincing a little at the shades of Victorian melodrama, I added, "I think I may have twisted my ankle though. Can I rest a minute?"

He slid his arms around me and hugged me back against his chest. My crotch bounded into the same condition as his. Pretending to test the weight I could place on my foot, I rocked my ass against his cock, and his hand started to stray lower.

I let out a short, throaty groan, and you would have thought it was the pistol shot at the start of a track meet. His hand dove through the waistband of my shorts and groped my stiffening dick, and his mouth attacked the side of my neck. Quite frankly I had expected a drawn-out seduction, and was more than a little bewildered by this sudden change of heart on his part. However, as his tongue lapped behind my ear, I lost all interest in the motivational curiosities of the situation.

Rick shoved my shorts down lower, baring my ass as well as my crotch. I felt rock-hard polyester grinding against my crack, and my asshole damn well tried to chew through the fabric. It felt like Ricky was hung like a horse. I squirmed my way around to face him.

The hand that had been gripping my cock now squeezed my ass-cheeks as I started pawing away at his shirt buttons. Fortunately, polyester doesn't tear, or the guy would have been in tatters. His chest, tanned and hairy, virtually erupted from his shirt. I ran my hands over the hard mounds of muscle and the pert discs of his nipples. Rick--who, now that I could see his nametag, was actually Thom--pressed our dicks harder together and rocked back and forth. I pushed his shirt down off of his broad shoulders and down to his elbows.

One of Thom's fingers found its way into my asshole, and at the same time he lunged into my mouth with his tongue, his lips bashing mine against my teeth. My hands found their way around his wide back and down to his shorts. Forcing through the tight waistband was a little difficult, but it was well worth the effort when I felt those round, hairy buns flex in my sweaty grip.

Thom was now joining me in making husky moaning noises. Keeping one hand occupied with his butt, I brought the other around up front to get rid of those pesky shorts. Before undoing the zipper, though, I worked his dick a bit through the fabric. Gripping both sides of it with my finger and thumb, I jacked it up and down, letting the friction of the scratchy cloth get him even more primed for the warm smoothness of my bare skin. The feel of that long, veined shaft got me pretty primed, too, and I soon had it bobbing free as his shorts slid down to his ankles.

It was a really beautiful specimen, pale pink against his tanned skin, with a silky-smooth head already glistening with pre-cum, and a thick, raised ridge running up the underside. I dropped past the wall of his torso onto my knees--to hell with the fire ants--and ran my tongue slowly up that ridge, firmly encircling the base of his shaft with one hand and keeping my balance on the hill by clamping onto his butt with the other.

Thom let his shirt fall to the ground, and then pressed my face tight up against his crotch, as he pumped his hips towards me. I breathed in the musk of his pubic hair, which was lightly tinged with the odors of sweat and soap. I kept my tongue going the whole time, and it eventually made contact with the head of his dick.

I kissed the tip of it, gingerly at first, then with longer, sucking movements. Little by little I took it into my mouth, and after working the head for a bit I let it plunge back, deep into my throat. Thom cried out, and stirred the inside of my mouth with his cock like one of the witches in the fourth act of Macbeth. Thom's balls were certainly akin to a bubbling cauldron, churning out a fair amount of pre-cum as they slapped against my chin. After a few more whisks around, I pulled back and began licking the sides of the shaft, and then dropped down to suck on those low-hangers.

Thom, however, had a different idea. He wanted a blow job, and no soft-core ball licking was going to cut it. With one hand he gripped my head, while his other steadied his cock, and with a forceful plunge his helmet-like head banged the back of my throat. I nearly choked at the suddenness of it, but Thom's pumping, mingled with his animal grunts and sighs, soon had me matching his enthusiasm. I was bobbing on his fleshy pole like a finely tuned piece of machinery.

Looking up past his sweaty abdomen as he arched his back, I watched his pecs balloon out with the same motion. I wanted to run my hands over them, to feel the firm, taut roundness of them, but he wouldn't let me up. I satisfied myself with his ass-cheeks, which I rubbed like crystal balls.

Thom's little barks were degenerating into whimpers, and the thrusts into my mouth became more frantic. Suddenly he pushed me back onto the ground, and with a thud flung himself upon me. After a few violent kisses, he rocked back onto his haunches, and pumping on his dick with dizzying speed, he shot great, long streams of creamy jism allover my chest. After about three or four spunks and moans, he collapsed back onto me and ground the last shudders of his orgasm against my torso.

He lay there panting, and then rolled off of me, onto his back. His sunglasses had fallen off at some point, and I could see his narrow, hazel eyes framed by long, dark-brown lashes. Gazing down from these to his thickly muscled torso, and spent but still sizable cock, I was ready for Act II. Thom apparently had the same idea, as he pulled me over on top of him.

"I want you to shoot all over my chest," he said huskily, running his hand up and down my back. I straddled him, placing my knees just above his waist. I started out by rubbing my dick back and forth across his washboard abs, savoring each bump and crevice. My hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and relax as he massaged my ass. I let my cock follow the trail of silky hair up from his abdomen to the center of his chest, where it spread out into a damp forest. Being close to cumming, I started to grind against him more violently, humping the valley between his pectoral muscles. Thom flexed them, causing them to clamp down on my dick each time I thrust against him. With a sharp cry, I exploded against that warm expanse of sweaty, tanned flesh, each shot searing through his chest hair, landing on his neck, his shoulders, or his chin. He growled, pressing me even tighter against him. When at last I couldn't squeeze out another drop, I slid back down to rest my head on a clean spot I found on his chest.

"Don't get too comfortable now," he said, gently pushing me up. "I've got to get back to work."

"Oh, yeah ... I almost forgot." We both stood up, and Thom started to retrieve his scattered uniform. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

He smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "It was great."

"No, that's not what I wanted to ask. What was all that nonsense when you first came up to me? I mean, one minute you're the Parks and Rec Robo-Cop, the next you're humpin' my backside like a Rottweiler in heat."

Thom smiled. "I get off on the authority thing. Uniforms, dominance." Well, it certainly worked. It was hot. Thom continued to stand there naked, his uniform rolled up neatly in his arms. "I don't usually do anything out here when I'm on duty. When you fell in my lap, though ..."

"Hey, don't apologize to me!"

"Yeah ... well, I'm going to walk down a ways and jump in the lake to clean up. Have a good afternoon."

"I just did." Thom disappeared into the trees and, after finding my underwear, I headed back down the hill to our spot. Kermit was drumming a paper fan nervously against his knees. When I sat down next to him, he threw me a deeply apologetic look.

"I'm so sorry Parker."

"What for?"

He was silent for a moment. "You ran into Ranger Thom, didn't you?"

I was more than a little surprised, but didn't let on. "Who?"

"The park ranger. I knew he was up there, but I really didn't think he would harass you ... much. That was just plain hateful of me and I apologize. Thom McGregor's his name. He's always out here, looking like God's Gift in that uniform of his, and he knows it. He patrols the hills, flexing and posing whenever he comes upon us sex-starved queens, and just when you think this vision actually wants to do it, he gets all official and if you're not careful will talk your ear off and sometimes even take you in for a citation—oh, Parker, I'm so sorry; can you forgive me?" Kermit finally took a breath. "He's such a tease, the bastard. I think I love him!"

I smiled. "Well, now, I guess that makes two of us."

Kermit opened another can of soda. "Oh, get in line. When the ice finally breaks on that frozen asset, I'm gonna--" He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at the grin on my face.

I suddenly grimaced, and fished a pubic hair off of my tongue.

"You BITCH!" he cried. "You did him, didn't you?" I started laughing and pretended to read my book. Kermit sat there for another second, staring at me, then stood up. "I've been working that god dam piece of beef for nearly a year and all I got was a recitation of the Texas Penal Code. You go to take a leak and come back with everything but a fucking ring on your finger. I think I'll go throw myself off a cliff."

"You might pick one a few coves down toward the straight end. He's washing up."

"Be right back!" Kermit scrambled up and dashed off down the trail. I opened up another beer, stretched out for a little sun, and reflected on the charms of al fresco sex, my newfound not-so-innocent hobby.


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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
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