Hot 'n' Steamy Lovin'

GROWING UP IN the 'burbs, we had sex everywhere-schoolyards, golf courses, graveyards, on train tracks (which in retrospect seems rather unwise), front porches, back porches, on top of cars, under boardwalks-it seemed no place was safe from our rutting little bodies. Looking up at the stars-or the midday sun-as the grass left green smears on the back of your shorts while your teen dream gave you head is a feeling like no other.

The logistics of city living make this sort of carefree, frolicky fucking very difficult. Seems that no matter where you are, there's always someone lurking about, patches of green are few and far between and the mayor's War on Fun means you're looking at arrest if you get spied by the coppers. So yes, it's difficult. Difficult, but not impossible.

CALL OF THE WILD Probably no other patch of land in New York City is more notorious for public acts of lewdness than the Central Park Rambles. Long known as the mecca of gay cruising, my research has found that the Rambles is more inclusive and welcoming than you might have been led to believe.

Foxy young Roxanne reminisced, "I'm probably the only lezzie to have had sex with a girl I picked up at the Dyke March in the Rambles at Central Park. It was raining. There were lots of needles and dirty condoms and we were approached several times by skeevy fag cruisers who thought we were little boys fondling each other." Tender moments!

Frank, a fortysomething comic book writer, also got busy in the Rambles with a dame. Halfway through the act, "we realized a bunch of guys had been checking us out-or maybe checking me out!" he laughed.

Prospect and Riverside Parks were also cited as hotbeds of dark little corners conducive to becoming one (or two) with nature.

But give someone enough liquor and they don't necessarily care if they've got the cover of trees to block them from prying eyes. "It was pouring rain," Tony, a 31-year-old drycleaner told me, describing an encounter with one of his favorite fuck buddies of days gone by. "We ducked down a stairwell into a gated-off basement entrance into one of the grande dame buildings facing Central Park," he said, warming to the topic. "We started making out like crazy, pawing at each other, and it suddenly seemed like a very good idea to have hot, dirty sex right there, against the thick iron gate-standing-and then bent over on the soaking concrete steps-both doggy style and an interesting standing/sitting version of missionary that I don't think I've experienced too many other times."

Twenty-eight-year-old bass player Sammy relayed a similar tale. "Me and a former girlfriend were walking home from CBGB, and we leaned up against a building and started making out. This led to groping and grinding, which led to me hiking her skirt up. We did it standing up against a building at about 3 a.m. on a weeknight. It was fun until a woman opened the first- floor window and yelled at us to stop, because that window is her little daughter's room-and we were only a few feet away making a ruckus!"

"I once got a blowjob on 28th St.," Frank of the Rambles recalled, no shrinking violet he. "At first I thought that was pretty private because it was behind a pillar. Then I noticed I was standing in front of a pane of glass." Oops.

Did the possibility of discovery add a little zing to these encounters? "I don't get a kick, I just don't give a fuck. You never know when that well is going to run dry." Or sober up. Good point, Frank.

PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES Cabs were another favorite place cited by my research subjects (aka, my drinking buddies). Ike, a 39-year-old music journalist told me about his first time on wheels. "We were riding through Central Park, so my girlfriend decided that it would be a good time to give me a blowjob. But I got uncomfortable because I kept seeing the cabdriver's eyes in the mirror. I don't even like to hug in public."

Eddie and Anita managed to piss their cabbie off but good. "We took a cab from Brooklyn to Harlem," Anita informed me via email. "There were a few different positions involved: the usual (lap sit), him on the floorboard? Then we get out to pay-and not like the cab driver made a comment the whole trip-but as we got out, he called me a whore. Like any gentleman, Eddie defended my honor by punching him in the face."

Ouch. But was it fun while it lasted? "Well, it was until the cab driver threatened us with a gun."

Back in the day before trains were graffiti-proofed and lit so horribly bright that just being inside one made your genitals shrink up into retreat mode, it was possible to hit it while riding the rails of this great city. (I suppose you still could, but who wants to bang someone whose every pore is visible for inspection.) Once again, I defer to Frank: "I had sex on the 2 train once. It was in the middle of the night and we were in the last car. That was one of my few pleasant subway experiences," he sighed.

Ike prefers the 7 (where it goes above-ground), but once almost got caught as the train rolled into the station. "I would advise anyone having sex in public to learn how to pull up their zipper carefully because it could be a lot more embarrassing than it has to be," he said solemnly.

A more scenic mode of public transport is the Staten Island Ferry. My friend Lola and her ex turned the misfortune of having to live on the Isle that is Staten into an opportunity to knock boots while cruising the harbor.

^^^ UP ON THE ROOF An ex and I used to live in a penthouse on the Upper West Side. (Note: It was called a penthouse, but it was really just a crappy old servants quarters plopped atop an opulent old building.) We had tons of that New York sort of half-privacy and a view of the river. For some unfathomable reason (uptight!), I could never convince him to fuck me out there. Try as I might, he would not deviate from the bed. So I was doubly jealous when I heard Charlie's story of a bar trick turned steamy romantic interlude: "It was a hot, rainy summer night. We're having fun in my apartment when I decide that it'd be a really great idea to go up on the roof. So we do. Naked. Through the hallway and up the stairs and out into the rainy night," he laughed.

"For a moment, I got worried that Mrs. Kravitz who lives next door is going to open her door and start screaming, 'Abner, Abner!' She didn't.

"So, there we are up on the roof, hot summer night, in the rain, drunk, and having full-tilt boy sex. It was great sex," he assured me. "If you've never had sex in a summer rain storm, I recommend it. I felt very free."

Perhaps the most daring story I heard came from my pal Jack. "An ex of mine and I got into having bridge sex," he told me. Huh? Is that like strip poker?

Apparently not.

"We started on the GW Bridge, high above the Hudson. The whole bridge vibrated with the movement of all the cars and trucks and it was quite loud. We had diverted from the pedestrian walkway and ended up on these stairs that I guess workmen used."

I never even thought of having sex on a bridge! I've always obeyed those "do not enter" signs. Not anymore.

There was a downside:

"We discovered after doing the deed that the keys to our apartment had vanished into the abyss. We had to get in through a neighbor's building, cross over the rooftops, go down the fire escape and bust in through the window into our roommate's bedroom."

Yeah, but still, they got to have sex on a bridge.

"Our bridge forays ended later that year," Jack said a little wistfully. "It was the dead of winter, and this time we were at the top of the Williamsburg Bridge. There was a steel room at the very top of the bridge. By this time the sex was cold and desperate. I guess we were chasing the original thrill, but we couldn't find it. Plus it was like 20 below up there. It was a challenge, and we did in fact complete the act but we broke up shortly after."

Yeah, yeah, they broke up, but still-they had sex on bridges!

While a roll in the (literal) hay can be exciting, there are also drawbacks to forgoing the bed in favor of any flat surface you can slap your bare ass down onto. As my friend Cybelle pointed out, "You've heard of carpet burn no doubt, but concrete burn is way worse." Then there are bugs, vermin and, if you're brave (or insane!), the very real possibility of falling into the Hudson.

Just because you're risking your life and liberty by doing the nasty in nature doesn't mean you should risk your health. I phoned the kind folks at Condomania to see if they had any tips on making nookie au naturel more comfortable (and safe). Joy Lynn Alegarbes, community outreach coordinator for the West Village store, suggested that if you're going to engage in nighttime nobbing, you might wanna try the Night Light condom-it's the first glow-in-the-dark condom that's also FDA-approved. For overall strength and durability, she recommended the Japanese-crafted Crown condom, but if you think you might get stuck improvising olive oil or chapstick for lube, you'd be better off rolling on a polyurethane condom like the Durex Avanti. (Latex and oil don't mix.)

And finally, if this summer finds you solo, don't despair! You too can participate in your own personal Wankapalooza! Toys in Babeland sells a solar-powered vibrator that brings a whole new meaning to fun in the sun.

It's summer. You're already hot, sticky and sweaty; why not turn that negative into a positive by ducking into a fragrant alleyway or darkened parking lot for a quickie? Tony offered this final reminder: "As quiet as any street, park, or rooftop might seem?it's almost inevitable that someone is going to come by, or at least open their window and look down directly on you." So make sure you're wearing clean underpants!

All names and identifying details have been changed. Except for the Condomania lady. Her phone number is 212-691-9442. Toys in Babeland products are available through babeland.com.