Foot and Armpit man

Craigslist is a great tool. It is a culture in it of itself. You can buy and sell things, get a job, hire somebody, learn about a community, find a life mate, etc. However, it was the rideshare feature that generated this story.

Right around the second time I was attempting to finish my last college course I scored my first ride using craigslist. It went great. I drove a cute young woman, her sister, and her grandmother from Nor Cal to Seattle. It was the grandmother’s new car with all the bells and whistles of today’s Mercedes’, and they were delighted to have me drive.

In the year that followed I scored about 9 more rides up and down the west coast. Craigslist had become my ticket to ride. It is the cheapest way to travel relatively short distances, and you meet some interesting cats. Riding the greyhound bus is always an experience, but scoring a ride off craigslist is like spinning the “wheel of fish.” You never know if you’re going to ride with a carp, flounder, or a group of guppies.

Just before attempting to finish my last college course for the third time I scored what would be the most notable ride off of craigslist to date. I had scored a couple jobs that involved me driving down to the Bay Area. I worked, visited friends, and had a date to see my niece perform back in Washington State.

After finishing my job I coordinated a ride out of sac. In Sac I visited with friends while I waited for my ride. My conversations with the ride offerer seemed a little off. I believe he told me he was on his way from vegas to portland. He spoke of taking a route that would not go through Sac, but changed his mind, saying that both routes are about the same distance. He then acted surprised when I told him that I was headed to Olympia. This made me a little suspicious because my ad said, “Need ride to Olympia.” He then increased my sense of caution by saying that he’d gladly go four hours out of his way to get me to my sister’s house.

I informed my friends of my uncertainty regarding the ride I scored. They all became a little concerned as well, but sure enough my ride showed up. The driver emerged from the car and looked absolutely harmless. He was relatively short and a little quirky looking. I was relieved that he wasn’t a “red neck” or a gangster.

Once in the cramped, small automobile I found that he was tired. I suggested that I drive and we switched spots before getting on the freeway. I did have a little buzz from the shots and beers I had enjoyed earlier with my friends, but I was ok to drive.

As tired as the driver was we began to chat. It didn’t take me long before I learned that he was a costume designer and that his ex-boyfriend was a ballerina. I let him know that I don’t judge gays, and that I have a couple gay friends in Sac. I also told him that my friends and I act kinda gay when we’re drunk. This intrigued him.

We continued to chat, and about four hours up the highway his hand went to my knee. My body jerked forward as he asked, “just let me know if you want to take a quick release break?” I replied, “a quick release brake?” “No, I’m doing fine,” i replied.

He began to get all “hot and bothered,” and began to squirm in his seat, while rubbing his hands around his mid section. He began to describe his under ware to me and inquired as to what type I had on. In a reluctant tone I replied, “boxers?” He then reached over and begun to dig his finger into the side of my jeans. He was on a boxer investigation, but again I told him I wasn’t into it.

For the next hour or so everything we talked about would lead back to him giving me a blow job, so I stopped talking to him. I stopped for a breath of fresh air, and to purchase a red bull, and when I re-entered the car he noted that my hair was oily. I told him him that I hadn’t had a shower in a couple days. He replied, “that is hot, that is so hot.” He went on to tell me that he’s “a total foot and armpit man.” He even told me a little about how his ex didn’t shower much.

The rest of the trip was pretty mellow. When looking for food he did tell me, “this is a good exit to get on then off.” I was enlightened regarding the gay code. When I finally arrived at my sister’s house I was beat. He said to call him sometime, and that he was going to be working in that town. I crashed and missed my niece perform.

I’m going to a big playhouse tomorrow to see my niece perform… wish me luck.

Mert

About three quarters into my stay in Bellingham I got word that there was going to be a “hippie-rave” style get together in the coastal hills of Sonoma County. My good friend and I decided we’d attend. After all, we needed a break from our shanty living situation. He opted to fly, and I opted to go Greyhound.

At the terminal in San Francisco I waited a couple hours for my friends to pick me up. I browsed the area a little, had a smoke, and returned to the terminal to sit and wait. I sat with nothing to do, and quickly became bored.

A short amount of time passed before I noticed an elderly man looking at me. I thought nothing of it, and went back to spacing out, and thinking about the night ahead of me. A few minutes later I noticed him looking at me again. The next thing I knew he got up and sat right next to me.

He introduced him self as Mert, and told me he was 90. He said, “look, I have no teeth,” and removed a crescent piece of chewed up-filler paper from his gums. Then he showed me his ID card. Sure enough he was 90.

He began to tell me about his life. I was fine with it. I’m the type of person who enjoys conversation with all kinds of people. After listening to for a while he told me that I have a good looking face, but he phrased it in a non shalant manor. However, a few minuets later he said it again. At that point the light on the situation turned rainbow in color.

He went on to compliment all parts of my body and told me a story about taking a Taxi, and how his first Gay experience was with the driver. He told me how in recent years he had paid to give oral in the Castro dist. of San Francisco. Then he propositioned me. He asked me if I would go to the men’s room and allow him to suck my nipples. Most people would have gotten up and left, but the voyeur in me wanted to stay. i simply told him, “hey now Mert. I don’t go that way.”

He continued to bathe me in his gayness, telling stories, sizing me up, and re-propositioning the nipple offer. At times his gayness would peak out and he would say, “aye yay yay yay yay,” but the true peak of his words were yet to be experienced. He finally let it all out when he told me that he wanted to put me face up against a wall, while i “totally” let go, and suck my butt hole.

My friends finally arrived and Mert tried to give me his info. I introduced my friends to him and we went on our way. I’ve got to admit that Mert made my wait seem a lot shorter.