Weekend Onesie: The Path of Most Insistence

Weekend Onesie: 

The Path of Most Insistence

I'm going to use today's Weekend Onesie to share a bit about the happenings at the prairie.

Just to the west of the prairie lies Twin Lake. There's a large beach there, typically populated by a young crowd of the granola variety. They enjoy swimming, smoking a little weed, lazing in their hammocks, chatting and, yes... sunning in the buff. 

This has been going on long before I was even aware of the prairie's existence. 

About five years ago, The City of Golden Valley, who shares the park with The City of Minneapolis, decided to sell the opposite side of the lake to a land developer, who immediately plopped down eight, multi-million dollar homes on the lake's shore. Appropriately entitled people soon populated those houses and were none too pleased to learn that they had to share the lake with a bunch of rambunctious college-aged hippies. 

So, a war began. 

The home owners called the 911 and 311 lines of both cities and began making appearances at the Minneapolis Park Board meetings on a regular basis - all to complain about the unruly and, in their opinion, unsightly conglomeration of people partying on the opposite side of the lake. 

Last summer, I stayed away from the prairie (Covid), but in late fall, paid a visit and got an earful about what was going on. There were a number of incidents on the beach. The Minneapolis Police decided to send in drones and capture people's images and then sent officers in to issue tickets, warnings, and actually attempt to arrest some of the revelers. 

This did not go down well. This was the summer of the George Floyd riots and people were not having it. They intimidated the hell out of the two cops taxed with issuing tickets and the cops turned heel and ran.  

Well, this year? Things have escalated. Seems one of the owners of one of the multi-million dollar homes sold his business and has retired. He's now made it his life focus to rid his multi-million dollar view of the partiers across the lake. 

This led to a Minneapolis Park Board meeting where both city's police forces were represented, in addition to the Minneapolis Park Police. All three are responsible for patrolling the park and... quelle surprise... all three were refusing to do so. 

This began talk of *gasp* fencing off the entire park and closing it. 

Well, tongues at the prairie were wagging. All for naught, of course. They are not going to close a park where they just put in a ton of mountain bike trails, removed underbrush, planted over 100 trees, and paved two miles of pedestrian/bike trail to connect it to a larger trail - not to mention all the electrical and plumbing they put in two years ago so they could make artificial snow at the prairie. So, that was nonsense, but people like a good rumor. 

Instead? 

We get visited by drones every day now. When they buzz near me, I just give them the finger until they fly away. Fuck them. I'm not hurting anybody. And their issue shouldn't be with the prairie at all. When there? I rarely see more than a handful of people; all of whom keep to themselves and are quiet as mice. 

We also get visited every two hours by one of the police forces. The Minneapolis Police and Golden Valley Police only visit once a day - in cars (and they have the annoying habit of driving through the prairie, crushing plant life). So, The Park Police are the ones taxed with most of the duty. They have this little golf cart with a blue and red flashing police bar on top. I wave at them when they trolley by and have no issue with them. Except...

Yesterday! 

I was in the woods watching a deer and had left my blanket and back-pack near a tree stump in the middle of the prairie. I heard their little cart come along and stop and I thought, "Hmm. What are they up to?" I was the only one at the prairie. I came out of the woods to find them going through my backpack! I said, "Can I help you with something?" They apologized and retreated and I apologized (although I'm not sure what for). 

I feel for the folks down at the beaches (there's a gay one, too - just to the south of the main one), but, in a way, they get what they deserve. When they start doing their drum circles? They do tend to get out of control. And all the drinking and smoking dope? That just makes for cray cray. 

Recently, there was an incident where a naked woman in a paddle boat got into a screaming match with the retired business owner. He was taking pictures of her. She's a radical with a loud, loud, piercing voice and one of the folks who intimidated the cops last summer - so she wasn't having it. 

That sort of thing?

Well, it's not going to end well, now is it? 

And it's not going to be the multi-million dollar home owners who are going to lose this battle. Those houses generate tax revenue for The City of Golden Valley, while those kids? They are simply a nuisance taking up valuable police resources.

You'd think the kids - I don't know what else to call them (there are a lot of over-40 in that crowd) - would see that and mend their ways, but nope. 

We live in an age when conflict escalation seems to be the chosen path. 

I just hope it doesn't lead to the closing of the path to my beloved prairie. 

--- ---

Happiness and sunshine!

Good times and blue skies.

Kizzes all around.

- uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

Theme For A Nude Beach - The B52's

Your Boyfriend Fucks Me, Too: A Sex Trilogy, Pt. 2

He’s already got his cock out.  It’s okay.  I can work with it.  He won’t open his belt, or unbutton the top of his jeans, so I have to suck him through his fly; something that is typically less than ideal.  I drop my stuff on the floor of the passenger side and assume the position.  There’s more room in the cab of his truck, so I don’t feel quite so awkward this time, on all fours in the well.  He’s grabbing for my junk.  I’m sucking on his.  In the back of my mind I’m already hoping for a quick ending. 

He’s grabbing my nips and pinching them slightly.  I return the favor and discover his are pierced.  He moans.  His bod is not in bad shape.  I like his fur.  Something about his moaning mouth makes me want to kiss him, and I do.  Smoker’s breath.  Ugh.  One of my least favorite things in the world.  A shame, too, because he’s an eager, generous kisser.  Mentally, I hold my nose and keep sucking face with him. 

Things escalate quickly.  As we kiss, he works his hand into the back of my jeans and fingers my hole.  Well, shades of twenty minutes ago, am I right?  I shuck down my jeans and resume my place in the well of the passenger seat with my naked ass in the air.  He wets an index finger with his mouth and drives his finger in me.  His dick is hard.  Hard to tell exactly how big it is, because of his jeans, but it’s enough to keep me busy.  His finger dives deep and something in me clicks. I want to get fucked.  I move in and deep kiss him again.  Without much beyond grunts and moans passing between us, we end up on the same wavelength.  He wants to fuck me, too.  And eat my ass.  Fine.  I untie my boots, shuck off my jeans and underwear.  This will allow me the spread and dexterity I will need to straddle him.  But first he wants to eat my ass. I turn it every which way I can, kneeling on the passenger seat, but the angle is all wrong and we abandon the idea.  I am just about to straddle him when… we see a white SUV approaching.  I plop back in the seat and grab my pants.  A quick glance up and I realize… It’s the PARK POLICE!

So, of course I can’t get back into my tight jeans quickly.  The black underwear I had on in wrapped around one of my ankles.  I struggle into the Jeans.  The space next to me is open and all the Park Police have to do is come up alongside us and they will catch me wiggling into my jeans. 

But they don’t.

They back into a space behind us.  WTF?  So they are watching us from a good six yards or so. I slip back into my pants and get my boots back on.  What to do?  Drive, I tell him.  Where? Just go.  We will leave and come back.  What if they stop us?  For what?  Sitting together in a car?  As we leave, I get the sinking feeling that I am leaving having left the doors of my car unlocked.

We leave the park.  They do not follow. We cross the freeway and move along a frontage road that mirrors the park.  The Park Police are still where we left them and something tells me they are watching our every move. We crawl along the frontage road and I tell him to pull into the parking lot of one of those multiple-business brick buildings.  We park.  By this point, I am pretty much put back together.  No coat and I wrestle my underwear from around my ankle and hold it in my hand.  We laugh.  Just a bit.  We’re still not out of the woods. 

We don’t stay put long.  We crawl along the parking lot, parallel to the park.  They’re gone.  Yay.  Sigh of relief.  We chat as we drive back.  Just as we’re crossing the freeway, entering the park, I spot the white SUV parked at the opposite end of the park.  My stomach sinks.  Time to abandon ship.  I tell him to drop me in the closest parking lot.  I get out and head down a hill, walking in the snow, headed toward a blacktop pathway.  No coat on, carrying my underwear in my hand.  I don’t look back… until.  “Hey, you!  Stop right there.”

It’s one of the officers.  It’s the big fat one who likes to run through the underbrush in summer, huffing and puffing and not fooling anybody.  This dude is the worst cop ever.  He asks what I’m doing.  I tell him I’m walking back to my car.  I stay weirdly cool… like mean cool.  Like come too close and I will bite you Mr. Mall Cop cool.  He tells me they have me on their cam pulling on my pants.  I tell him I very much doubt that, as I was doing no such thing.  Weirdly, he does not order me back up the hill, he tells me to walk over to my car and he will meet me there.  He wants to see an I.D.  Fine. 

I head back to my car, glancing over my shoulder to gage just how quickly they are going to get to my car.  They don’t seem to be in any hurry.  They’ve detained the dude in the red pick-up.  I make a dash for my car.  Stupid me.  Not only is the driver side unlocked, so is the passenger side.  And, to top it all off, my front seat is littered with all my sex kit stuff.  Talk about incriminating.  All those officers needed to do was walk up and look in my car and they would have known the score.  I cram all that stuff - plus my black underwear, which, surprisingly, the cop never asked me about - back in my bag and zip it.  I get my I.D. and just in time, because here they are.  They pull up, but don’t park.  I have the driver’s door open and offer up the I.D.

The cop gets out and says, “Hey, I’m gonna make this easy on you and easy on me.  We’re gonna drop the whole thing.”

Huh?

Then, no lecture, no warning, nothing.  He and his bud get back in their vehicle and head back to the parking lot where the red pick-up (which is now nowhere in sight) dropped me off.  I take note that the bud is a real hot cop.  Damn… I wouldn’t mind being interrogated by him for a while.   In a daze, I pull myself back together quickly and get the hell out of there. 

I am elated.  Beyond elated.  I feel like I just cheated death.  I go over it in my head again and again and can’t make sense of it.  Unless… whatever cam he thought he had evidence on malfunctioned, was non-existent, or didn’t show what he thought it would.  Whatever.  I berate myself for taking such a stupid risk – especially with a dude I was not that into.  But, hey… I  got away with it.  All is good. The rush of the experience stays with me long after I get home.

I feed my dogs and continue to thank my lucky stars.  Then I hit the net.  I still want something.  Hell, now I feel like I deserve it.  It’s one of those rare days where my desires are aligned with the cosmos, for the moment I open A4A, a real hot dude hits on me. He’s a bit younger than me, thin, muscular, full of tats, handsome and versatile.  He wants to fuck my ass.  Within four messages back and forth, I have an address.  He lives in an area of the city that has been very lucky for me lately – as in – I have about five dudes I play with all living within two blocks of each other. 

I clean up, and then tell him I am on my way…

- End of Part 2 -