Of course, not being able to drive, I wasn't able to go out at the times listed.ĭuring the summer, I'd ride my bike almost daily the couple miles to see if anyone had written something new, or maybe actually catch someone there writing, but never with any luck. Almost once a week, the state workers would paint over all the writing, but on occasion, I got to read the when, where and how to meet someone.
I was intrigued by the 'ads' for blow jobs on the mens room wall. Mostly, just kids writing their stupid sayings or “so and so was here”, but those weren't the ones that interested me. This is my first attempt at writing any story, so constructive criticism is appreciated, but please be gentle.Įven before I started driving, I loved going out to the old style rest area (by old style, I mean outhouses and no electric) about 2 miles from my house to read the graffiti on the walls. The people my age will remember the old roadside rest areas that were frequented by older gay men for their discreet meetings. This is the story of my first experience with a man.
