Pitsunda, or Seryoga, Sery, Seryozhenka
How short human life is... Just about 70 years... The last years (old age) are frailty, illness, slow dying...
Active, productive life is even shorter, on average 60 years. And a full-fledged sexual life is even less...
How complex and contradictory human nature is. I mean, first and foremost, men. How complex and contradictory human sexuality is... I mean men and, first and foremost, us, gays...
I am bisexual. Was married twice, raised a son. But the older I got, the more life experience I gained, the more I became a "pure" gay.
This doesn't mean at all that besides sex there were no other priorities in my life. I am an athlete. A Master of Sports. A bit of a poet, musician, singer, if one can put it that way in this case. I have prepared and published several books, written a cycle of lyrical poems about love (about blue love), released a music album of 4 discs with songs (including original ones) and musical compositions...
I was seriously into photography. Traveled a lot both across the former Union and abroad (Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Bulgaria, Austria, Germany, France, Croatia).
Somehow, at leisure, "flipping through" the pages of my lived life and love adventures in my memory (and I had many of them; it's even scary to name an approximate number of contacts), I suddenly remembered one old story that stirred me up anew so much that I lost my peace... The memories began to haunt me, didn't let go for a minute. And I understood, they wouldn't stop tormenting me until I poured out my soul, shared with you.
* * *
1986.
I came to Sochi for vacation once again. Even then I had heard a lot of good things about Pitsunda, but never made it there. This time, I persuaded my Sochi lover to "take" me to Pitsunda, to see its charms for myself. And I didn't regret it. A fairy-tale place – a pearl of the Black Sea coast: endless pebble and sandy beaches, relatively few vacationers (compared to Sochi), extraordinary beauty of landscapes, a relic coniferous forest, a special, blissful microclimate, crystal clear water, and the opportunity to swim and sunbathe naked (the dream of my whole life!), silence (no railway, no highways) – conquered me immediately.
My Sochi lover suggested going on a small trip from the cape – to the 3rd gorge (more precisely, beyond the 3rd gorge) – a completely wild, hard-to-reach place.
The "road" took about an hour and a half...
After the last settlement near the Fish Factory, after about thirty minutes of walking, there's practically no path. High rocky cliffs come right up to the sea. Small waves cover the narrow sandy strip right under the wall with piles of stones, along which you have to run for 10-15 meters when the wave recedes to the next little "patch" not flooded by the wave. And so on, many times. Even in a small storm of 2-3 points, it's impossible to pass.
The long road with such adventures was a joy to me.
Finally, we came to the first gorge – here the mountains receded, opening a small space – a clearing with a small stream, where tourists had set up their tent camp. We went further... Again, from time to time, vertical cliffs block the path... In some places, you have to walk knee-deep or waist-deep in water, holding your belongings over your head.
Here's the second gorge, similar to the first. And again – a tourist tent camp.
Without stopping, we continued our way. Overcoming several similar water obstacles, we came out onto a spacious sandy beach (beyond the 3rd gorge), about 200-300 meters long. Here – not a single person. The feeling of a lost island... Fairy-tale beauty: high steep rocky walls, their bases resting
on the sand, some stubborn little trees clinging to small ledges in the cliffs, emerald, purest sea!
We drop our swim trunks and indulge in what we came here for...
But this is not about that...
Returning to Sochi, without any regret, I gathered my things, said goodbye to my lover, to Sochi, to its hectic life, to the crowds of people on the beaches, in canteens and cafes, to swimming in dirty water – a mixture of sweat and urine of hundreds and thousands of vacationers, to my sexual adventures, which, as I perfectly understood, would not be in Pitsunda.
At any rate, the chances are immeasurably less. However, I was mistaken about that...
I settled quite successfully with an old lady, near the Main Alley. A small tidy room in a shed with a separate entrance leading to the front garden... The nearest beach is 10 minutes away, tennis courts and a canteen-cafe nearby.
After unpacking my things and changing, I went out to the beach. To the left – behind the pines – a lighthouse, and beyond it the high towers of hotels on the Pitsunda Cape itself. To the right – an endless beach with an adjacent forest area.
How lazy vacationers are. They all crowded together at the exit of the Main Alley to the beach area. Just a kind of rookery of human bodies.
And to the right – the further you go, the fewer sunbathers.
My path is to the right, to the nudist beach. It's about a kilometer, but such a walk is a pleasure for me. The beach was located not far from the cinematographers' resort base. On the way, there are quite a few extensive deserted spots.
And here is "my" beach... Familiar naked butts, tits, and dicks of various sizes.
A motley crowd... I spread out my mat, undressed, and into the sea...
What bliss it is to swim and sunbathe naked!.. The water is a miracle! What a thrill to swim in the sea and sunbathe naked! What a feeling of freedom, unity with nature, liberation from complexes!
After swimming, I settled on the mat. I look around at the surrounding naked and not entirely naked crowd... And there are so many temptations around...
Then I started strolling along the beach and photographing interesting scenes.
Soon I saw three girls with tennis rackets approaching. A great reason to get acquainted. We started talking. I offered my services as a coach and sparring partner. Of course, for free. The girls gladly agreed. One of them was named Marina, who clearly had her eye on me. I wasn't against it.
In the morning we met on the courts, played for about an hour and a half. My partners headed to the beach, and I went home to change and get a portable tape recorder. And then suddenly the thought came to me to fool around, to put on a show striptease on the naked beach to music. In those years, in our country, there was no talk of any striptease. I put on a bunch of clothes so there would be something to take off: a thong, swim trunks, athletic shorts, shorts, and sweatpants, and on top – a tennis shirt and a suit shirt.
Coming to the beach, I spread the mat and turned on the tape recorder. To the fiery songs of my favorite Tom Jones, I started undressing, dancing a little.
The first sounds of music made the neighbors turn to me with displeasure, like, here's a slob, a show-off, came and disturbed our peace... But, realizing that everyone was in for some kind of erotic show, they started watching.
Meanwhile, remembering the moves from the American film "Striptease, o-la-la," which I had seen a year earlier in the capital of Austria, I tried to reproduce something similar... Finally, it came to the shorts. I would lower the shorts, exposing the upper part of my buttocks, then expose the lower part of my abdomen with pubic hair from the front, then cover up again...
I infected the audience. Someone, encouraging, exclaimed: "Come on, be bolder, don't be shy!"
With a decisive movement, I lowered the shorts under my buttocks, where they "got stuck." A sigh of disappointment was heard: under them, the spectators saw a thong... Slightly spreading and squeezing my knees, I made the shorts slowly slide down. When they fell to my feet, I elegantly tossed them aside and dealt with the thong. After several teasing manipulations, my not very modestly sized genitals, swaying from the dance movements, appeared before the spectators.
Applause and exclamations rang out, like: "O-o-o!" or "Bravo!"...
Freeing myself from the last covering, I did a handstand, spreading and closing my legs, then a backflip and a split, which delighted the audience.
I possessed one unique ability – by the power of imagination and extreme concentration of psyche without the help of hands I could "make" my cock rise... Now the hour "X" had come for me.
Physiologically, the mechanism of erection is quite simple: mental and emotional arousal from visual perceptions of real images (pictures of seen sex, porn photos or videos), sexual sounds or sexual thoughts, leads to a rapid rush of blood to the penis. As a result – an erection.
The applause and approving remarks of the spectators accompanying my striptease, the striptease procedure itself for naked guys and girls, gave me the necessary adrenaline for the final part of the performance. After several erotic body movements with a slightly aroused cock dangling from side to side, I turned off the tape recorder, took a towel, looked around at the gathered crowd of onlookers and uttered:
– A deadly number... I ask the nervous and pregnant to step aside... I ask for 2 minutes of silence...
Stretching the towel horizontally, I covered my "equipment," closed my eyes, detached from the surrounding reality... All my will, psychic emotionality and sexuality – everything was maximally mobilized. I imagined one picture (which one – I won't say, it's my secret), which always led me to the desired result... Soon I felt strong arousal and the arising reaction. Then, I let go of the edges of the towel, which, as if on a hanger, hung on my erect cock.
Probably, many were shocked by what they saw: on one hand – nothing is visible except the towel. On the other – what is it hanging on? Someone probably considered it some clever trick. The more experienced and insightful understood what was going on.
In dead silence, I turned away from the spectators to the sea and, throwing off the towel, ran and dived into the transparent depths of the sea...
I swam slowly forward... I needed to calm down, release the extreme mental tension required for demonstrating the "number."
Stopping about 50 meters from the shore, I turned towards the beach and saw a strange picture – the sunbathers on the beach were hurriedly pulling on their swim trunks and swimsuits in a commotion, and from both sides, eight guys in identical white shirts were advancing in a line onto the naked beach: four from one side and four from the other.
I tried to understand what was happening... Against the background of this commotion, I see two girls in swimsuits heading into the sea and swimming in my direction. Approaching, one of the girls (it was Marina), without stopping, handed me something in the water.
– Take it... These are your swim trunks. There are vigilantes there. Dealing with those who didn't manage to cover up. And those two by the water – probably waiting for you...
– Thank you, sunshine. You are my savior. I am in your debt.
The girls turned around and swam to the shore. I, somehow pulling on the swim trunks, held my place afloat for a while longer, and then slowly moved towards the shore.
Thinking to myself, what luck that I managed to finish my striptease before these fellows arrived. What would have happened if... However, "We all walk under God, right next to God." These are lines from a poem by the wonderful poet Boris Slutsky.
While I was swimming to the shore without hurrying, one of the "guardians of order" left without waiting. "Alright," I think, "let's play with you, 'vigilante.'" I started running through the scenario of my exit onto the beach. First, I decided I would pretend to be a half-wit, a semi-invalid, but then I realized that my physical build would be in glaring contradiction with the invented "image" and would be easily exposed.
I swam to the shallows and stopped, bracing my hands on the bottom.
– Well, had enough swimming? – the "vigilante" sneered.
– A... a... are... yyyyou... ww wai... ting for mmme?..
– Yes, yes... you... Get out!
– Bbbbut I'm nnot ccompletely... aaaall th... there...
– Don't worry, we'll dress you, – the vigilante concluded meaningfully.
– Mmm – aa – rina! Tttthrow mme a tttowel!
– No towels! – roared the hunter of nudists and deftly caught the towel flying towards me.
A triumphant smile appeared on his face again.
– Wwweell, oookay... Yyyyou... wwon...
I rose to my full height, enjoying watching the smug smile slide off the face of the guardian of order at the sight of my swim trunks.
Enraged that he had been tricked, my counterpart, after a few rude remarks, left to the friendly laughter of the sunbathers...
When he disappeared from view, I, with a whoop similar to the call of American Indians, pulled off my swim trunks and, waving them over my head, exclaimed:
– Long live freedom! Hooray!..
Amid laughter and applause (everyone understood that my stuttering was purest prank) I theatrically bowed to the benevolent audience and completed the whole picture with a handstand.
Victory is victory, but there were also "casualties": 9 people who didn't manage to get dressed, these scoundrels took to the police. One can imagine how much humiliation they had to endure... Later there were talks that the local authorities sent letters to the workplaces of the "offenders" notifying them of the immoral behavior of the latter at the resort... That's how the "authorities" fought supporters of nudism in those years. Today it seems simply wild, but back then it was the order of the day. "O tempora, o mores."
Needless to say, after this story, I became the favorite of all the regular inhabitants of the beach. Many on occasion came up, expressing their admiration for how I "handled" the vigilantes and for my striptease... And far from all were disinterested. Some tried to start an "acquaintance" with goals understandable to me. But I was rather indifferent to girls, although I got together with Marina – my savior – I played tennis with her in the mornings, and in the middle of the day we would leave the beach for the forest, where I fucked her, thinking about a guy...
With the male part of my admirers, I actively developed relations. To my "victims," those who interested me very much (straight guys), I offered to participate in an erotic photo session... I had a cool "Polaroid" camera that I bought abroad. It produced a photo print immediately after shooting and had a timer that could "delay" the shot for a minute and issue subsequent pictures twice after 30 seconds. During that time, one could take this or that position (including a sexual one with a partner). I took photos both with a "hidden camera," unexpectedly for the subject, and in a number of cases at piquant moments. Then I gave the photo to my object of interest. A conversation would start, followed by an offer to take some photos. We would go into the forest... There I found an excellent spot: a tiny clearing surrounded by tall dense bushes, with a bench and a lounger someone had dragged there long ago.
I did shoots