One evening as I was sitting on a curb with several other homeless men, a van slowly cruised by. Then, damn if it didn't go around the block and do it again, even slower. The driver was obviously trying to size us up. But why?
At the time, I had little presence of mind to devote to analysing my current situation, because my mind was desperately trying to figure out how I ended up homeless; pennyless, and wandering the streets, at the age of 55.
The van reminded me of the ones you see on TV being driven by a pedophile. Which this guy obviously was not, since he appeared to be interested in older men. The van came to a stop with the passenger door directly in front of me. I took that as my cue and stood to meet the driver's gaze. As soon as we made eye contact, he asked, "Do you like to get naked?"
How the hell did he know? How could he possibly know? Almost before he could finish his question I shot back "Very much". I still didn't know where the conversation was going, but if I could go naked - it's all good!
Then he asked, "Do you like to have dildos put up your ass?" And again I shot back "Very much". With two little questions, he had nailed down my two greatest loves. I have loved getting naked and sticking things up my ass since I was five years old, but how did he know?
Come to think of it, that is probably a large part of why I was willing to abandon my previous "normal" life of pretense - you know - the involuntary life long masquerade ball to which we are all subjected. A lifetime totally dedicated to trying to pass the social acceptance test, over and over again; never able to just be your own peculiar self, for fear of society's judgement? That is not living!
Without him saying another word, I opened the door and climbed in. He drove us to the Walmart parking lot and pulled into a remote (but not too remote) slot. I know he must have spoken to me, but all I remember is squeezing between the seats and laying down on my stomach totally naked.
It was a nice setup; a big pillow for me to lay across, two containers of lanolin baby wipes, a trash receptacle, and three sizes of dildos with a lot of lube. The largest dildo was about the size of my forearm. Not to worry though; he started with the smallest. It was so small, it was almost insulting. But it was a nice intro.
The next hour was filled with him gently working his way up through the dildos, a little at a time; frequently withdrawing and cleaning the dildo and my "baby bottom", applying more lube, and slowly reinserting it.
It was heaven to experience, and a tragedy that it had to end, but halfway up the largest dildo, it did end. Except, I often replay that event in my mind. It was the most tender and compassionate experience of my life.
But it was even more than that, because - well - are you familiar with the old-time church foot-washing services? They were intended as “opportunities for us to test our humility - because our feet are the dirtiest and stinkiest part of us."
Not so! Ask anyone who has slept under the bushes every night. This guy - this guy; who somehow knew I was the one in the lineup that loved what he loved … was patient, and gentle, and oh-so humble.
I tried to reciprocate by sucking his dick, but my Asperger awkwardness doomed that effort. He said he wished he could take me home with him but he already had someone staying there. He did however hand me a five dollar bill. Now some might be offended at that, but I had no problem with it. I might only be a five dollar whore, but even that was a promotion. So it's all good.