Sausage Sighting of James Arness on Makaha Beach

I'm Ali, short for Alika, "Guardian."  I was born and raised in Makaha, the surfing capital of the world.

Kind of a bummer when you hate surfing.

I was a bit of a chubby kid, not at all athletic, and a "sissy" -- I got picked on a lot.   I liked to hang out on the beach and look at the surfers, but I didn't like hanging out with them.  They're, as a rule, macho, sexist, and way homophobic, surfing to "prove" their manhood, goading each other on with homophobic slurs.  Even today, there are no openly gay professional surfers.  You have to have a wife and kids back home.

Imagine what it was like when I was growing up in the 1960s!

The only surfer I could stand was my classmate Brian Keaulana  -- Native Hawaiian, with beautiful dark skin, brown eyes, and a smooth muscular chest.  He teased me all the time, but at least he wasn't mean.  No tripping, no hitting, just ribbing me on being momona (fat), and on watching tv all the time.

I did watch a lot of tv.  I longed to escape from the island, find my way into the world of Lost in Space (Billy Mumy, sigh!) or That Girl (I wanted to be Ann Marie, and get to kiss Donald Hollinger).

Or Gunsmoke.

Marshall Dillon (James Arness) was exactly my type: tall, broad-shouldered, deep-voiced, a Grade-A cowboy complete with 10-gallon hat and leather vest.  And what a bulge on him!  You could see it moving around every time he walked.  What I wouldn't give to be captured and tied up by the bad guys, and have Marshall Dillon burst in to save the day!  Maybe carry me off into the sunset, for lots of kissing and hugging!

Remember, I was like nine or ten years old.  I wouldn't be thinking about going down on guys for a few years.

One day I told my friend Brian about my crush on Marshall Dillon -- omitting the kissing and hugging, of course -- and he said "I know him.  We buddies."

"Not!"  I exclaimed.  Surely he was putting me on!

"No lie, Brah.  He's a surfer, and his son, too."

"Not a surfer, a cowboy!"I protested, angry.  He had no right to pull my Archetypal Cowboy out of his mythic setting in the Old West and plop him down into the mundane, every day world of Makana Beach!

"Don't be buggin', Brah!  He an actor, right, come over here from the Mainland to surf.  His son, too.  They tight with my dad, come for dinner, play Matchbook cars, like that."  His father was Buff Keaulana, a lifeguard and former surfing great.

"You lolo, or pull my leg!"

"I can prove it!  Next time James Arness comes to Hawaii, you come over for dinner, too."

I figured he was just blowing hot air, but sure enough, a few weeks later, Brian invited me to lunch at James Arness' house!

Apparently he really was a surfer -- he and Rolf rented a bungalow on Makana Beach two or three times a year, and flew out from L.A. for a surfing vacation.

When Brian and I arrived, James, Rolf, Buff, Corky, and a couple of guys I didn't know were sitting on deck chairs in swimsuits, eating take-out bentos full of poke (raw fish), tako (octopus), chicken and rice, and liliko (passionfruit).

 An all-male party full of hot guys in swimsuits!  My hormones should have been spilling out all over the place, but I couldn't my eyes off James Arness.  Broad shoulders, smooth chest, gigantic bulge visible in his swimsuit.

Brian introduced me, and he grabbed my hand with his huge paw.  "Are you a surfer?"  he asked.

Marshall Dillon was talking to me!  "Oh...um...I can't...I mean..."

"Ali is delicate" Brian said.  "Like a butterfly.  He'll melt in the water."

"I don't...um...I don't have the balance for surfing."

"It just takes a little confidence," James said, squeezing my shoulder.  "How about if after lunch I give you a lesson?"

A surfing lesson from Marshall Dillon!  The mind reels!  "I don't have my swim trunks with me, though."

"I'm sure we can find something for you to wear.  One of Rolf's spares."

"You joke?" Brian said.  "He so ono, can fit into Big Jim's trunks."

"Don't be mean!"  His father scolded.  "Ali can't help it he's big."

"No lie! He wears big boy pants!"

"I'll bet I could wear your trunks," I said.  Swim trunks that had been next to James Arness on my body!  The next best thing to touching him!

"I'm 6'7, and I weigh 275 pounds," Big Jim said.  "I've got a 48 inch chest and a 43 inch waist.  Two of Ali could fit into my swim trunks."

"I can prove it," Brian said.  "Take 'em off, and let Ali try them on."

I'm still not sure why Big Jim didn't get a spare swimsuit for me to try on, but he didn't.  He stood, put his bento to one side, and dropped his pants.  His penis hung down at least 5".

I gasped in awe.  I had never seen anything so beautiful!

"Oh, yeah, I'm big there, too," Big Jim said, with a smile.  He lifted his legs one at a time, so his swimsuit would slide off, then handed it to me. "Do your worst."

Without taking my eyes away, I took off my shoes, then my pants, leaving my underwear on.  I pulled Big Jim's swimsuit on -- way too big, of course.

"Wait, wait!" Brian exclaimed.  "I'm heading in, too, pardner."  He stripped to his underwear, then climbed into the swim trunks and slid them up.  They got to just above our knees.  "See, two of us!"

I was standing face to face with Brian Keaulana, our crotches and thighs pressed together, while a naked James Arness stood behind us.  Can you think of a better fantasy scenario?

I never did get that surfing lesson, and I never saw James Arness again.  Apparently when his son graduated from high school, he lost interest in surfing, and James didn't want to fly out to Hawaii without him.

When I was fifteen, Brian Keaulani and I started having sex.  But that's another story.