The weather was perfect for a morning run in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park today. The low pressure system that dampened the summer spirits of those in the Northeast over the weekend has headed into the North Atlantic Sea and remnants of this humungous, hurricane-like storm offer an overcast sky with just a splash of high-humidity today.
For the first time in years I did not shave my face. For two days, I permitted my beard to come in. Ever since joining the Army, I have shaved my face every day. I cannot stand hair on my face. The hairs come in thick now—almost in an Italian fashion and no longer when I start a beard are there bald patches along my cheekbones and chin.
It felt good running with a beard. The horrors of what must have been pungent body odors made me feel butch and since I was outside, I was not in the least bit concerned about anyone smelling me.
I was stinky from a night of heavy dreaming of scenes from the HBO series “True Blood”. Already breathless, I found myself tangled in a wad of sheets wrapped like a noose around my left leg when I woke at 6 a.m. I had a erection that rivaled that of my teenage years. I had to go for a run!
I didn’t even brush my teeth before heading out to Prospect Park. Running and the perspiration that comes with rapid leg movement cleanses the body—sweat glands unclog pores far better than the most expensive of soaps.
The four mile runs gets easier every day—I’m quite sure I set a new time record for my run around the park although I do not have the desire to monitor my speed with so much greenery to enjoy while I jog.
I decided to walk through the gay cruise section on my way out of the park. I felt ugly as hell, wondering why I even would bother cruising early in the morning. I found myself constantly rubbing my beard as I made my way through the thick, green foliage that covers the park this year. The heavy rains that have fallen over the past several weeks offers a tropical flair to the park this year.
I shall keep this beard—they like it!
A Puerto Rican, likely half my age—a savage of sorts with a closely shaven head and a collie dog on a leash lured me off the beaten path. I felt safe among all the greenery and found myself ass naked, bent over a log, watching his dog dig in the dirt as he felt my smooth, hairless, stinky ass.
I ran home and jumped in the shower immediately. The shave felt good. I don’t feel like a tramp when I shave my face.