Let's be a gay cruising area

I am 1967.

I am the discarded condoms in the bushes.

I'm the vice cop wearing sunglasses trying not to look like a cop.

I hope the oldies enjoy this thread and get them selves off with their weak memories of sin.

I'm 2019. I don't understand what this thread is about.

You're fat and you have arthritic psoriasis, R4. Some cruising could probably do you some good.

You’re over 70 and are triggered!

I'm a closeted pop star who, despite having access to whatever cock I could possibly desire, prefer the company of balding 50 year old men with potbellies.

I'm Griffith Park.

I’m Kirk Cameron who “accidentally” parked nearby. Oops!

I'm the graffiti on the toilet stall offering my services.

I'm the makeup counter at Bloomingdales.

Stop by to see what I have on sale today!

I'm Berlin, Hambourg, Vienne, Zurich, Amsterdam, London, Paris, Geneve, Milan, Barcelona, Séville, Beirut and Le Caire, yes even Cairo, and we are outdoor cruise paradises until the year 2000 or so. We each have our own subtle flavor and dance to la chasse.

I am the discarded Kleenex.

I'm the whore on all fours.

I’m a patch of poison ivy, just waiting for an unsuspecting top to wipe his shit-covered dick on me.

I am the voyeur.

I am the furious march back to the car after seeing my partner of 10 years further down the path getting fucked by a troll, I know he didn't see me, but how do I call him out on this when he will know I was trolling for gratuitous cock just like him. I'm angry that I will have to keep up the hypocritical facade of our 'relationship' since 'I can't imagine being without him'. Well, really, I could, but it would be a lot of work.

I'm an outwardly picturesque, inwardly filthy lavatory cottage on Hampstead Heath

I am the fat old man stalking the blonde skinny twink.

I'm the frau wife waiting back home for her hubby to come back for dinner.

I'm the blankets and mattress in the shrubbery.

Lees Trail, Bridle Path

Oh, the hours I've spent appreciating nature

I am the discarded baseball cap.

Slightly stained, knocked off in a dash through the bushes.

Volunteer Park Seattle

Oh, the hours I've spent appreciating nature

i’m the farthest shower stall in the typhoon lagoon changing room. whoever attempts to use me after these gel-haired queens are done had better watch their step.

I am the wooden signpost.

'Saggy Bottom' 'Dingly Dell' 👉

I'm the tree that grew from all the seed left on the ground.

I'm the pre-cum soaking through your worn 501s. I will dry to a nacreous layer of... Oh, nevermind. You know the rest.

I’m the promise never to do this again. I’m uttered every single night but I don’t take hold.

I’m the interstate running by the rest stop that all the truckers stop over at.

I'm Jim's wet farts as he drives back home to his lovely Christian wife.

I am St. Louis's Forest Park for the free sex and Tower Grove Park for the paid help c. 1977.

[quote]Lees Trail, Bridle Path

So close to Beaver Lake, and yet so, so far

I’m the sensational headline on some British tabloid, outing an ‘Olympic Swimming Hero’ for cruising in ‘notorious sex car park four times a week’:

I am the lingering smell of jizz.

I'm the discarded poppers in the mud.

I’m the asshole thug who goes there to hunt down and beat fags, but in truth, I am one of them too.

I'm the cherished memories of a younger, thinner, ballsier version of myself, who - while not proud of those events that are best left in the past, certainly doesn't regret them either.

I'm the lone sneaker, half buried in mud, that got left behind when someone whispered, "Jesus Christ, I just heard a police whistle" and the running began.

I the young 18yr horny, yet naive, Senior in high school who gets prompted by the sexy police officer who is sitting in the next stall with his pants around his ankles saying coyly 'come on' with his finger motioning for me to stick my dick through the hole. I am arrested and handcuffed as I try to leave the public bathroom. My life forever altered in giving up my lifelong dream of teaching, background checks, and never volunteering to support the community. Funny thing, I still continued the cruising, adult bookstore and restroom gloryhole sex after the arrest, cuz it was hot!

I am the corner of Ocean Park Boulevard and the Pacific Ocean. The police patrolling the parking lot are there to protect the gays, not persecute or prosecute you. It is 1978. At least a few men are complaining of inexplicable illnesses that cause them to lose more weight than they want to (sad, judgment-free truth).

I’m really an ok, please come to my apartment for some fun.

I'm Senator Craig's feet creeping over under the stall.

I'm the anxiety you'll feel in days to come when you develop a sore throat/rash/discharge.

I'm the OMG uttered, at the sight of Reverend Black rimming Father O'Malley.

I am the recently relocated twenty-four yo CA girl who at lunch goes to the picnic area/boat launch by the river down the road from the industrial park to eat and read. I see cars circling the small parking lot, some pulling in next to a car with an occcupant, some pulling in with no other cars around. The pattern of coming and going seems familiar. And then it hits me. This pattern is seen with cars cruising the beach parking lot next to the gay club. Only difference is hiking outdoors vs. going inside to use the bathroom.

"The police patrolling the parking lot are there to protect the gays, not persecute or prosecute you. It is 1978. At least a few men are complaining of inexplicable illnesses that cause them to lose more weight than they want to (sad, judgment-free truth)."

There's got to be 10 lbs. of crap crammed into your five pound head. Police were not our friends in 1978. Some still aren't. You're some sad right wing little shit who doesn't even know the history of HIV. But still likes to use it to wield shame on the gay community.

In short, you're a bigot turd. You always have been. You always will be. And shit sticks. Which is why you are recognized on this website as being associated with shit. And why you are loathed on many websites.

Even your fantasy persona repels people. You'd be the equivalent of a human stain, if you were human. An anthropoid stain maybe?

I'm R48. The mentally unstable weirdo you'll undoubtedly encounter at the local bog sooner or later.

I'm the troll sniffing around like a truffle pig, always alert to some group action developing in a dark corner so I can quickly elbow in and briefly slurp on an unclaimed cock before I'm pushed out again.

Im an interstate rest stop of yesteryear -- i wasn't well lit, or lit at all for that matter. I didn't have attendants on duty to clean and police the place. Families rarely stop in to use me, because i was little more than an outhouse. But I was the source of a lot of fun to a lot of men.

I'm the CNN reporter caught in the Rambles in Central Park I'm being sent back to London and told to stay out of trouble.

R18, tell your partner that a friend of yours was in the park and saw him and told you. You could even give a slightly inaccurate description of the trick that you had been "told" by your friend, for verisimilitude (you know how info,gets distorted with retelling).

I'm the clueless straights taking little Madysin and Skyler for a nature walk.

Daddy doesn't know that this stuff happens during the day too....

^^^^smart ruse!^^^

In my day we called the guys who frequented outdoor cruising areas "bush queens".

I'm the man you wouldn't look at twice in the street but since you're here you'll let me suck your cock before you leave and vow to yourself 'Never, ever again'. We'll both be back tomorrow.

I'm everyone's intimacy problem.

Hi I'm just walking my dog!

Anyone seen any good badgers around here?

Obviously, you weren't there, r48. If you had been, you'd know the police part, at least, was true. Because you would have seen it with your own eyes. As a recently transplanted New Yorker, I was as surprised by it then as you seem to be now. Apparently it was yet another advantage of living in the People's Republic of Santa Monica, back when that was a thing.

Unfortunately, the HIV part happened, too. To someone who was near and dear to me. We didn't know what was wrong with him, but because of his wasting disease, he only made it to 1981. I would give anything if I could go back in time and be wrong about it.

I'm sure your unkindness precedes you everywhere else you go. I hope you may know peace someday.

R48 needs to save his soapbox political agenda for another thread and calm down.

Where there's greenery there's queenery.

I am the hot-looking straight man who loves to get blow jobs from gay men. Then when I get arrested I call my gay brother to pick me up from the police station, all the while telling him I didn't do anything, I was just walking along minding my own business and some guy just started talking to me, and then the cops came out of nowhere and arrested me for no reason. True story.

Had to spring him not once, but TWICE. And I never told his wife.

I’m the urban legend that won’t die, but everyone swears is true where a guy walks into a dark, unlit park bathroom late at night. Sticks his cock thru the glory hole, only to receive the best blow job in the world, only to realize it is his father that sucked him off. Or, you believe it is the other way around: dad gets sucked off by son. I’ve heard people tell versions of the this story so many times in so many different parts of the US. True, or in the same category as Sasquatch sightings?

I’m Dick Button, just happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I’m the frau who goes power-walking later that evening with her friend and slips in a puddle of jizz.

“I’m not sure, Paisley. It doesn’t look or smell like dog shit at all!”

Jizz doesn’t “puddle.”

R67 has never seen cum. How did "dog shit" get into the conversation? DOG SHIT???

I'm the hair dryer being employed in early spring to coax the leaves on the bushes to grow faster so fun can be had.

I’m the local paper thta decided to publish the names of all the men arrested for cruising in Ridley Creek State Park. After repeated publishing of names, we were finally able to kill the cruising in an otherwise perfect location with multiple out of the way bathrooms and lots of unused trails.

I'm the cops who have just finished the bust in the park. We're rubbing our dicks in the car and might go to a strip club. Then back to a motel...

What year is this thread? 1977?!

i dnt wanna go on gay crz whr can hook up wth app..t m

I'm the married, overweight father figure that the teen twink doesn't know he needs. Yet.

I’m the sense of emptiness that comes, post-climax, as you walk home, temporarily satiated for the week.

I’m the overweight 60-year-old naked guy on Sauvie Island scurrying back to my car in a panic - clothes in my arms - because I thought I saw a cop.

I’m the twenty something British backpacker sitting on the toilet pedestal - slightly sunburned, shorts around my ankles, black tank top covered in ribbon trails of cum - as in my face - and any cum not on me is glinting on the tiles of the bathroom floor at my feet. I’m wondering how soon I can put through my paperwork with immigration so I can stay here in Australia...

I am the sketchy, shifty-eyed cruiser who makes you fear for my life. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...

Are you going to scream "faggot" at whoever tries to pick you up, r79?

I'm the ever optimistic elder gay, getting some exercise, and a reason to leave my tiny apartment. Alas, all I ever get to do is watch, until I'm shooed away.

I’m the nude nut. I could be anywhere between thirty five and fifty five - it’s hard to tell. I’ve got a very average body - not especially fit! - but I LOVE to be nude! - and I do it all the time. In the park. I just wander around nude. I not only wander the undergrowth - but I brazenly venture forth to the public picnic area and drape myself over the benches...

Thanks primarily to me, the police have stepped up patrols. And eventually the whole picnic area park will have drastic work done - woodland cleared, toilets demolished and gates to the carpark mostly left locked - to keep the undesirable element away. As for me - I’ll just move along to another gay cruising area and start the cycle again...

I'm the statue of Junipero Serra alongside Highway 280 on the SF Peninsula beckoning to the sexy boys to stop and have some fun in the adjacent rest stop. He misses them. Things have slowed down since the 1970s and he likes to watch.

Oops, I miss them. ^

I'm Richard Quest.

We are 4 to 6 cross-dressers. 1 or 2 of us are in the park every summer night. We share the week, on a schedule. We arrive late - after 1 or 2 am. We are middle-aged, kind and some of us are married fathers. We hail from Southern Europe. We have a few looks, nothing outrageous, a bit of tattered glam, to, frankly, schoolmarmish. We chat with the local gays, share cigarettes, as there is no competition since we service different types.

We're the real cross-dressers. We hang out in small groups, talking loudly, cackling and shrieking like barn animals. We flit around from the parking lot to various spots in the park - we're always on the move. If anybody new or attractive shows up, we stalk him and call him out until he tells us to fuck off, or he leaves. Our heavy makeup and perfume, chain-smoking, and poorly chosen clothing leave everybody wondering what could possibly be found attractive about such artifice.

I am Senator Lindsey Graham and I am shocked and appalled by this thread.

Who's here

You're here

I'm here

I'm the earrings

I'm the caftans

To the people saying that cruising is dead. It still goes on in LA, at certain parks.

You accidentally knelt on me when you tried to give him a blow job in an area enclosed by bushes and weeds. You hysterically screamed "IS THIS HUMAN?"

I'm Tammy's femur.

I am the marble walls of the many fine mens' rooms in the city, in bank buildings, office towers and department stores.

Rooms where a young college boy could go inside - away from the bugs, poison ivy and dirt - and find the thrilling secret world of handsome men, older men with expensive suits, shiny shoes, and long fingers, unzipping to confer a benediction on a hungry young college boy with a fetish for older, well dressed men.

I'm the adult bookstore near or adjacent to the gay bar.

If you walk through me, your feet stick to the ground.

I'm filled with mostly old dudes and sad gay drunks, but every once in a while, a hot jock or dad wanders in. Often, he's chased away by the overly desperate queens who live in the back as if it's their perch.

On Friday and Saturday nights, when the influx of jocks, dads and hot dudes is potentially at its highest, the drunken twinks and drag queens from the bar will come in and spend their entire evening talking and whooping it up in the back, until or unless a diligent clerk tells them to drop coin or get their stanky asses out.

Rooms redolent, r94, of piss and shit. What a thrill.

@47 = how did you find my LiveJournal? I thought I'd deleted that ages ago!

Type r47 and we'll know what you're talking about, r97.

Sorry about that! The @ reflex is hard to quell. R47

I'm Fort Tryon Park waiting for the hot Dominican guys to drop their girlfriends back home and stop by the park for a real blowjob.

I am the literary genius John Rechy, who wrote about such behaviour from the 60's and 70's and turned it into almost poetic, harsh hypnotic prose. Check out his novels, 'Numbers' and 'City of Night'...

R101 Recently recommended same to a 23 yo I met in a London sauna.

I am the raccoon that wishes these fuckers leave food or stay the hell out of my domain.

I'm the hot young mugger waiting for some old fag to try and pick me up so I can get him alone beat his ass and take his wallet knowing he'll never say a word.

[quote] Rooms redolent, [R94], of piss and shit. What a thrill.

Not in the least. Not in THOSE buildings. These weren't some random JCPenney in suburbia.

I am R96, who recoils at the idea of touching an actual penis and has to leap out of bed the second someone ejaculates so that I can take a 72 minute shower and scrub myself with Brillo pads, followed by immediately changing all sheets on every bed in the house.

I'm the butch white guy rejecting rice.

I’m the used adult diaper featuring fresh cum decorating the skid marks

I love hookers and ho’s

I'm herpes. I'm all you're going to get tonight.

I’m the PReP pill 💊

I'm the twink taking R111, thinking it's a one-time panacea against all sexually transmitted disease.

I'm R111, and it turns out I'm just a tic-tac.

Typhoon Lagoon shower stall?! Yaaaaaas!

lets not, why keep promoting the image of out of control sex maniacs posing a risk to innocent children out in nature?

I am the physical, mental and emoitional rush of having hot unbridled sex with a group of men . I just happen on rare occasions. I never happen when arranged by Grindr, Scruff or Growlr. I am addictive and whole lives are wasted chasing me.

I’m the good looking middle aged married guy. I have a wife and three kids - but I’m still in good shape! I’m a realtor so have plenty of alone time in the car - and I know a few places I can go to assuage my craving for cock...

Only thing is - although I love being fucked! - I don’t have anywhere to go clean out beforehand - and it’s not like I can carry a douchebulb in the car - what if my wife or kids found it? It’s hard enough hiding the little brown bottle of poppers...

I only let guys fuck me with a Condom - but no matter how hard I try - right in the middle of a decent fuck they’ll pull out - and it’s a mess! I have wipes and tissues for my backside and hole - so i’m ok! - but sometimes guys get mad coz it’s all over their crotch - and it smells! - and they hafta go back to work & there’s nowhere to have a proper shower to clean up. A tap over a washbasin - and no soap!

It’s a problem I know - but what can I do? I love being fucked!

Amen R116!

I'm an actor of Cruising (the movie from 1980)....

R119, I am a gay man protesting you but hoping I can still suck your dick.

(R120), even if I'm an "eldergay" ?!

We knew a fabulous eldersister named Agnes who tended bar at the Annex in Chicago. One night after work, when she had just gotten paid in cash, she was cruising Lincoln Park and hooked up with a hot number. When she had finished orally servicing him there.... he pulled his badge and shook her down for her entire pay! Otherwise he would have arrested her!

(R120) but why don't you like this movie (Cruising) ? It's a good thriller, showing the "gay SM" community in the west village of NYC in the late 70's. Nothing else.

Never forget, r121 and r123

Was Cruising really all that inauthentic? I saw it back in 1980 (or whenever) and it didn't really shock me. But the only leather I wore were my Topsiders and penny loafers.

I don't know about any Lincoln Park cops or what they might have been like in the 70s or 80s.....

But in the 90s a few cop cars would hang out in front of the Bijou, and they wanted to get sucked off, not paid.

Lincoln Park where, r126?

R127 I was replying to R122. Not sure if that was the real Erna posting there or an imitation. And not sure where the Annex is or was (I assume that was before my time)

But I found out after leaving the Bijou (which was technically in Old Town just south of LP) one night that cops will watch that entrance. I struck out inside the Bijou but got a very hot Polish daddy cop dick in my mouth when I left!

I'm the team of city parks employees sent in to trim back the undergrowth in the favorite meeting spots as there have been complaints. As they work they find numerous condoms which they fire at each other with hoots. The hilarity stops when their supervisor arrives and instructs them to take the shrubbery back more, to within 9 inches of the ground. It will take years to recover.

R124 Fascinating to watch

I'm the harsh spotlight that momentarily blinds you before you hear the police whistle.

The guy in R124 has Kristy McNichol hair.

I'm the seemingly kind middle-aged man that cruises you and convinces you to go back to my place where we'll be more comfortable and then is never even questioned by the police when you go missing and are never seen again...but I know where you are.

At age 13 we were already actively cruising for sizemeat in parks, T rooms and locker rooms. Sometimes a monster would be presented to us and we would drop to our knees and go immediately to work. Occasionally a tinymeat would be presented and we would just say no.

I'm the puddle.

I’m the gross fat and ancient troll who cockblocks your hookup with the hot Latino. I follow you guys, pull out my dick and stroke as you start to play, and slowly edge my way closer to you with the mistaken belief that you will let me touch you. I finally sleeve you out so much you give up and split up.

I’m the windowless 1970s era van parked nearby. My owner tries to convince you to fuck inside me but you know this setup has sexual torture and dismemberment written all over it.

I'm just out at the park doing research for a school report.

I'm a bird-watcher! Seriously!

I'm the sore wrist.

i’m the obese elderly white guy in a mankini wandering around the lake shore at the end of the trail. has anybody seen my clothes?

I am the French film 'Stranger by the lake'. R141 is an extra who didn't hear the direction: "cut and reset!"

I am the first-timer, ever so nervous, with a copy of the "hankie code" in my Levis. I truly believe it and am watching the rear pockets of people as they walk by for a clue.

i was referring to a real-life mankini sighting at a gay cruising area around Jordan Lake in North Carolina, r142. my roommate, her boyfriend and i went to sunbathe (seriously) and i didn’t tell them anything about the area.

I got a nice long view of her boyfriend’s dong hanging out his shorts as he lounged back on his towel, so there was that.

Ahh, the good ol' glory days. No Grindr, no chat rooms. No. You actually went out, had sex and got something accomplished with no fucking urinal dividers. Those were the days. I miss them.

I'm the dome shaped room in the thickets made by some cruiser who brought clippers from home and considers himself the caretaker of the area. He also picks up trash wearing double duty rubber gloves.

I’m the super low rise bootleg cut jeans you don’t want touching anything.

You’ll grind against him to clean off your dick, but you don’t want any of this sludge on your jeans. They seriously need more mulch.

[quote] Erna

Cunt!

R133 Bruce McArthur, is that yooooou?

I'm a failed night of attempted cruising. I pathetically come home after 3 and a half hours of scouring downtown parks and streets. Boy are my feet tired and my dick is still hard.

R129, that happened at "The Bushes" in Lincoln Park in 1983. I don't think those bushes ever grew back.

I'm George Michael.

I’m the musk of Dominican pinga after a hard day working at the bodega. I fill the nostrils of the closeted married businessman as he deepthroats my owner.

I'm your mother...weeping.

I'm your father wishing I'd blown the load that made you on your mother's tits.

I'm the little hill above Black's Beach, California (center of photo), longing for the "glory days."

I'm the enchanted forest of Laurelhurst Park, Portland, Oregon, in the 1970s.

I’m the wooded trail above Lake Travis at Hippie Hollow park in Austin where I got my wiener sucked

The bushes around the Wiener Rathaus. All night Würstl fest!

I'm the Rambles in Central Park I've been a place to cruise since the park opened.

I’m the grocery store isles at Kroger on Montrose in Houston where I meet more tricks than tomatoes.

There is no "S" in Ramble.

I am the circular drive in Pittsburgh's Schenley Park known for decades as....wait for it....

The Fruit Loop.

As with many other spots, the cops shine a light and chase cruisers from time to time, but they always come back.

The low pine forest on the low dunes above the deserted beach at Costa da Caparica in Portugal. You took a tiny train kilometers down the beach and then walked more, after the last stop.

I hope for the pleasure of young people, that paradise is still hoping!

Also the ruins of a princely villa outside Cannes - direction Juan-les-Pins. 2 abandoned villas with huge overgrown luxurious gardens. That stomping grown was sublime!

There was a sandy beach after Montreux where the Rhône dumps into lac Léman. Another hike sort hike to achieve - after the straight nudist beach. All forbidden, nowadays.

Rinse repeat 5000X around the world. Technology has its own thrills but mostly the old way of hooking up was better.

[quote] I am the circular drive in Pittsburgh's Schenley Park known for decades as....wait for it....the Fruit Loop.

AKA Dickylick Park.

Schenely and the gay beach in Erie were still cooking even recently.

The smaller/more repressed the area is, the more likely such activity still exists, if there aren't other options for them.

I'm the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in Riverside Park if the bushes could talk the tales they would tell would scorch your ears.

I'm the probably now defunct cruising area on the edge of Princeton University where in the 70s you could get some really nice preppy cock. They all smelled so clean, like talcum powder and the country club.

The male lavatory at JC Penney...

Some of our more athletic African American men relieved themselves there...

I am the Caribbean sea, realizing this thread is NOT what I thought.

[quote] The male lavatory at JC Penney...

JCP mens' rooms always seemed to be a cockfest.

The one in my suburb was always filled with DILFs trying to get sucked while their wives shopped.

I’m the curious virgin “just taking a walk” and pretending I don’t know what this place is, even though it’s the town’s worst kept secret.

I'm the "disguise" worn by the closeted actor or politician who visits this place. I'm basically just sunglasses and a hat

I’m the cummy underwear that the man will try to hide or fix before his wife or mother finds it.

I'm the toilet paper that proves to be a viable writing space to trade messages under the stall.....

I'm the grass/mud stains on the knees/pants that no amount of frantic brushing with the hands will remove.

I’m the cell phone secretly recording lewd sex acts that will come out later at an opportune time for a political opponent.

I'm the dog being walked around by the voyeuristic newbie. Mmm ... good smells.

I’m the uncle who awkwardly runs into his nephew and decides to cross that family boundary taboo

Oh btw the nephew in above story just turned 18 years old yesterday!

I'm the suburban dad trying to figure out a way to explain why I'm walking funny and not saying it's from having twelve inches of cock as thick as a beer can rammed up my hole. I nearly got found out last week when Cynthia realised I hadn't taken any of the cough medicine she got for my sore throat...

R133 I’m the plastic 55 gallon drum in the corner of the dining room that no one seems to notice or to ask what’s inside. I have a garishly colored vinyl table cloth barely concealing me. Still no one asks about me.

I’m the serial killer hiding in the bushes with a machete waiting patiently for my prey.

I’m the plump wife sobbing in her car in the parking lot having followed her husband based upon her worst fears.

R184 I’m the husband of the wife and I am finally relieved my secret is out.

R185 - I like you!!

R186 😘😘

I am the wife wondering where my hubby’s lips have been.

R188 I’m the dick that your hubby’s lips have been on. He prefers cock.

R189 Thank goodness. I am more worried about him rimming.

I’m the innocent dog roaming thru the cruise park that smells human semen and eagerly licks it up 😋

I'm the euphoria.

We're the raccoon family out foraging for the evening. It's been super quiet here for the past ten years, ever since that Grindr thing took off.

I’m the gnawing guilt and despair every closeted man there feels the second his orgasm is over.

I'm North Simonds Drive off Montrose Harbor at night in the early 90s. There are SO many cars driving up and down, up and down, up and down my mile-long length. No passengers. Except in the pairs of cars parked driver-door to driver-door. One of the pair always has someone in the passenger seat while the other car is empty.

In my next life, I hope not to be a member of a despised minority who has to go looking for sex in "cruising areas."

I'm casa de Campo park in Madrid.

It's 2019 and I'm swamped with guys fucking behind the bushes.

I’m the private investigator hired to spy on the closet cases.

I'm the child that will end up hating you for so deeply hurting my mom and destroying our family.

r199 Child, what are you doing in the gay cruising area?

I'm 1979 Manhattan, and I'm about to bestow my gay cruisy area of the year award. The trouble is, I can't decide whether to bestow it on the piers at the end of Christopher Street, on the trucks underneath the abandoned west side rail line, on Central Park the Ramble, on Riverside Park in the upper 80s or to defer to one of my sister boroughs - Pelham Park in the Bronx, Forest Park in Queens, South Beach on Staten Island, or Prospect Park in Brooklyn. We won't speak of Long Island - the dunes 1 mile east of Field 6 of Jones Beach or the Judy Garland memorial forest of Fire Island

I’m the notorious park in Palm Springs where everyone goes to for cock. I make headlines when the straight mayor of the city sets up police entrapment, and calls the guys who cruise there “cocksuckers.” The residents in the city are upset by this, so he resigns, even though he described my visitors perfectly.

I am the men's bathroom at the Harvard Science Building circa 1985. The university removed all the doors from the male stalls to reduce traffic.

I'm a highly respected deacon of the local church. The frau news reader on our local station said that when she showed my mugshot.

Is it normal if I can't see the pictures on DL since yesterday ?

I am the local anti-gay evangelical preacher caught in a sweep by police in the public mens room on my knees wearing a cheap wig as a disguise.

It’s 1982 and I’m AIDS, lurking secretly for a while and slowly beginning to manifest myself. Yet the cruising never stops...

Fear meeeeeee......

I'm the crudely carved glory hole in the restroom stall (in the restroom next to the cruisy park.)

I'm a regular and I've hacked back branches deep inside the tallest bushes to form a private green tented home from home. With blanket on the ground and clothes neatly hanging on the ends of the broken shrub limbs I am naked and await a gentleman caller.

I'm the Republican family values politician who was caught here. I only came to do research on the gay agenda, I swear!

[quote] I am the men's bathroom at the Harvard Science Building circa 1985. The university removed all the doors from the male stalls to reduce traffic.

I am your fraternal friend, the men's rooms on several floors of the Cathedral of Learning at Pitt. Doors were removed years ago, but it didn't do much to slow things down.

I’m the fifth floor men’s room of the Arts and Sciences library at Stony Brook University. That guy on the other side who gives the AMAZING head? He’s a department chair and an internationally known expert on ________. But of course no one knows that, except sleuths like me! (30 years later, I’d STILL like him to suck my cock. He was THAT good.)

I’m the craft room in the back of the Catholic Church in my small Texas town when the priest called me back there (as an altar boy) to run thru our Sunday Mass rituals.

I'm Marshall Fields on State Street, and I'm very democratic, because everyone goes to Marshall Fields. Or went.

I’m the fossilized remains of plastic bags of condoms nailed to the trees by well-meaning ACT-UP members. I’ve never been touched, except by curious squirrels and crows.

I'm the picnic table covered in jizz and all manner of bodily excretions that a family of four will be using in just a few short hours for their early lunch.

(I'm thinking they should just pitch the coleslaw when they're done...)

I’m my niece setting her toddler son (my great nephew) on the wooden stairs leading to the beach on Fire Island to fasten his little sandals. What she doesn’t know is the dried whitish stains are semen from the night before (it’s the ‘dick dock’) but I hold my tongue and don’t tell her for fear of making gay men look like disgusting whores. After all, she likes to visit her gay uncle and the beach is so nice. When she’s not looking I wipe his hands with anti bacterial wipes.

I'm the sexy, horny slut that wears sexy lingerie under a super-tight bright red miniskirt with a tiny black bra, rocking 10 inch heels.

I'm the 20-year-old, first-time cruiser from the local university that R218 won't leave alone.

I'm George Takei in the Ramble.

Never, never would I go into such an area, unless I was jogging, of course.

i'm the HIV in the veins of the unsuspecting. waiting to be transmitted

I’m the PReP, stopping the HIV from transmission 💪

I'm the married man who gets instantly hard at the sight of both R218 and R219.

I'm Laud Humphreys. I can trace your license plate number.

Who’s the old gaysian that scares away the young guys.

Who’s the old gaysian troll that scares away the young guys?

I'm the homeless guy hoping one of the tricks will take me home.

R225 Interesting - had never seen that!

I'm the conversation between two 24 year-old gay guys

"You see that park over there? You know that years ago, before like Grindr and all, gay guys would hang out there and in the bathroom there and try and pick each other up for sex."

"Oh My God! Like I would literally die if I had to do that! Like literally die! In a bathroom???? That is so gross!!!"

"Sometimes they'd do it on the paths too, like in the bushes. The police would set up stings to trap them and arrest them. A lot of the guys were married and all."

"We are so lucky that we have Grindr and Scruff and PReP and everything. I can't imagine sucking off some random guy in the bushes. I mean what if it was raining out or cold?"

"It's not raining out or cold tonight."

"Naughty!!! Do you think anyone will see us?"

"Eww! Then I'd have to touch an actual.....penis!"

"Eww I know! With, like, the lights on and everything!"

To those posters above smugly bringing up HIV, in my experience (by the 90s), public cruising, however slutty, was much "safer" than grindr hookups today. I've seen my share - parks, beaches, department stores, university bathrooms, the Ramble, Vaseline Alley, Volunteer Park, Collingwood, Buena Vista, Meatrack, P Street Beach, the Fens (to say nothing of European parks!) and at least 90% of the action was oral, j/o, and voyeurism. It is not that easy or comfortable to fuck in a Macys bathroom, a honda civic, or a laurel bush, and also not necessary when the thrill of the chase, of new discovery, of the prospect of an impromptu circle jerk or bukakke was as hot as hot can be. Besides, cruisers were far more likely to be sober, and when people did fuck, they actually used condoms, precisely because it was anonymous. All of my and my friends' HIV scares came not from cruising but from trusting a trick who didn't really know their status, or more often, getting wasted or high and exercising poor judgment in a private bedroom.

Hookups today, meanwhile, are pretty daunting for this eldergay - condoms are out but not nearly as many people are on Prep as claiming to be. We are willing to believe someone who says they are on Prep even though we used to know enough to doubt people's word about their status. And because it's ultimately a lot of time and effort to actually consummate a grindr hook-up, first-date buttsex is far more likely to be on the menu than it ever was in cruising, especially with the younger folks nursed on OnlyFans.

Look, I'm glad people aren't scared of sex anymore, that young people are more adventurous about sex acts, and that anal sex outside of a relationship no longer has the scarlet letter of slut deserving HIV. And I can't deny the danger of mugging or getting busted by the cops, both of which I have seen, or the poison of the closet for many cruisers, and definitely the countless hours wasted sitting on a dingy toilet in the student union. But I really miss long moonlit nights and lazy afternoons in Buena Vista Park, the smell of eucalyptus and pine and crunch of secret trails underfoot, all of the varied and handsome men and varied and beautiful cocks, and most of all, the smell of a man's bare neck when pulled close for that first bluejeans boner grope on a cold night. Why can't we have that and all the good new stuff?

Pssst, R231--there ARE no lights in the bushes! Pass it on!

I'm the 5th floor john in Butler Library at Columbia University and sitting behind door #4 is Professor Jim Levin, JD/Ph.D, and active in New York City Democratic Politics. I open the stall door and give blow jobs and then ask the guy to give me a "cocktail" of urine to wash down the cum. I go to gay pride marches bare-chested and wearing a harness and I have my picture taken with the likes of Ruth Messenger and Mayor Dinkins.

[quote] Pssst, [R231]--there ARE no lights in the bushes! Pass it on!

It's called sunlight, Mary.

I'm me waiting endlessly in the basement restrooms of the Music Building.

I'm the underpaid mall cop rushing to catch the PNP gang in the upstairs Nordstrom bathroom this very night. You know, the one where no cruising's happened since 1979 or something.

I'm the parking space five blocks away (so no one will recognize my car.)

I'm the extremely butch redneck that comes here in my pickup truck. I'm big and blond, 6 foot 5, with huge hands and feet, a rugged face and a body that's as solid as a brick shithouse.

When I speak, a decade of designer purses flies out of my mouth. I am, of course, a total bottom, and later on, I'll be on my back, begging strangers to breed my hole.

I'm the cop who catches some random old guy cruising for dick.....then finds out the old guy is a U.S. Senator

I'm an empty bottle of rubbing alcohol.

I'm Kitty Dukakis, and I DRANK that bottle of rubbing alcohol!

Jussie, what u doin here girl?

I'm the sharting twink in the bushes...

I'm God's judgement.

Strangely absent from the area, R245.

I’m the closeted celebrity trolling around in the middle of the night looking for some hot piece of ass. When others recognize me I tell them I’m just getting ‘exercise’.

R245 I’m Satan egging you on to live your own truth. There is no judgment in my world, because God made me perfect.

r247, some male celebs just enjoy strolling in the park at 4am. No biggie.

I’m the creepy guy who’s stroking his cock with one hand, grabbing at guys who walk by with the other, or trying to join in with others, who keep shooing him away, but he never takes the hint.

i'm the stench of shit and semen in the air

I was cruised and picked up a guy in Washington Square Park in NYC and fucked him outside, near the children’s playground.

^^^^…..and?

R252 Most of Manhattan is a gay cruising area.

I’m the “chili dog” penis just pulled out of an un-douched ass. 🤢

OMG R255. Right in front of my salad too!

Washington Park bear NYU has always been hot cruise area. Hot horny students everywhere and dark places for hot sucking.

I'm the reminder that replies in "Let's be..." threads start with "I'm" or "We're."

Are there any sex clubs or movie theatres left in Manhattan for sex?

I’m the crabs resting on the rims of the glory holes, waiting for a new cock to slide in, so I can find some new pubes to call home.

Is Club Cummings in NYC’s East Village a sex Club?

Finding a place to cruise

I am a German autobahn picnic place. Functional and unattractive between Franfurt and Heidelberg.

No families stop. Just single men in cars. They occassionally get out of their cars and descend down the bank at the back, out of sight of the autobahn.

I'm the Old Vic, during Kevin Spacey's tenure

Daffy's sounds like fun...

I'm a Bryan Singer party

The Guardian shares one man's story of glory and glory holes.....

I’m the ENORMOUS bulge in the skin tight baby blue gym shorts worn by the short Hispanic guy who was a ubiquitous feature of P-Street Beach in the 90s.

Others of DL who were there must remember me.

I’m the poop on the ground

I'm the sand in your ass at the beach at Ocean Park Blvd whenever you got fucked in 1978. You should have done it in your car.

I'm the 2 that bags an 8 due to the desperation and paranoia of the 8.

I'm also the oddly high standards of the 2.

I’m the 1940s edition of a German philosophy textbook in the darkened far reaches of the college library stacks circa 1985. Many a closeted college sophomore has thumbed through my pages in an attempt to be doing anything other than trolling for cock at this renowned gay cruising spot.

I’m the HIV-1 virus 🦠 in the semen of the balls of the top about to slide into the bottom’s ass and rip tiny tears in the rectum so that I can spread and transfer to my new host ❤️