So I have managed to get back from Lorne safe and sound after a very, very fun weekend away.
I’m always a little bit nervous about meeting new people, but in the spirit this year of putting myself out there more, I decided to dive right in. Lorne is a loverly little seaside town, south west of Melbourne along the Great Ocean road. I was invited down for the weekend and since I am always keen to head down the coast, I said yes.
The drive along the Great Ocean road is beautiful and although the day was a little cloudy the lure of the waves and the beaches was hard to pass up. I like long car trips. Road trips provide some really great thinking time. Give me a few good beats and a nice breeze from an open window, and I can just about drive anywhere. The roads were surprisingly busy for a Friday but we still managed to make pretty good time.
After settling in and grabbing a quick bite to eat, four of us headed down to the waterfront to check out the “adventure park” and go for a jump on the trampolines. The adventure park resembled the kind of old park you remember from when you were little, and on holidays with your parents. Cyclone fencing baking in the heat, dirt paths and bunch of old faded trampolines sunken in to the ground surrounded by black matting. Clearly the public safety fun police hadn’t made it this far down the coast yet.
Despite the amount of physical activity I currently do to stay fit I am one of the most uncoordinated people I know. I am a bit of a coward when it comes to potential pain and bone crunching injury, and the Adventure park circa 1950 held the promise of a lot of it, if I wasn’t careful. I even tried diving once when I was a kid, but I could never get past the fear of the painful belly flop. Now after spending many personal moments in bed with pictures of Tom Daley, I wish I had stuck with it.
I stepped on to the bouncy bit and wished I had put on a speedo instead of a jock strap that morning. It took a little bit of building up to it, but jumping on the tramps made me feel like a little kid again, going higher and higher. Eventually I felt brave enough to land on my bum and bounce to my feet. After a few spills, bouncing off the mat and almost going head first in to the dirt I mastered it… I was so proud and giggling like a school girl.
The others were all naturals… naturally.
The rest of the weekend consisted of laying on the beach, perving on surf boat crews, party games, cards and combination of UNO and truth or dare that left me giving a naked lap dance to our host in broad daylight on the balcony of the beach house. I have to admit there may have been a few drinks involved too but I wasn’t about to pass up a dare. My honour was at stake. So for one minute in clear view of half the holiday homes of Lorne, I gyrated, flexed and jiggled to Beyonce with one hand covering my shame and the other above my head. There were other fun things to do but what happens in Lorne, stays in Lorne I am told.
Naturally the conversation often turned to sex… we are Men after all. Who’s doing it?, who’s going to do it?, and what time is the orgy? Added to that all the innuendo about holes, fluids, toys and kink that you would expect from 8 drunk gay boys. Fortunately one member of our group was a teacher of anatomy and gave a very informative impromptu workshop complete with diagrams on our s-bends. I now understand that I have two sphincters and that if I can find the way my s-bend goes, breath deeply and split my cheeks then I can have anal sex without any pain or burning. Information I put to very good use.
So the boys weekend away was a success. I haven’t laughed so hard or so often in a very long time. A good bit of male bonding is always refreshing.