The depression years were tough on many. I felt myself lucky that I
had received a “fair” inheritance and was not suffering financially as was
much of the population. While I had money, I was suffering in another way. I’m
gay. I had to leave New York because of so much taunting, teasing and
persecution. My dad hated my guts and I had a younger brother that scorned me.
I had few friends. I felt guilty and unwanted. I just had to get away from the
ignorance of others who were making my life miserable.
One day, I drew all of my inheritance money out of the bank, packed a
couple of suitcases, tossed them into my car, and started driving. I headed
west, having no idea where I would end up. While driving, I imagined an
uninhabited south seas island would be the only place where I would find
I passed through Albuquerque. The weather was getting warmer. I was
unwinding a bit as my car traveled west over Highway 66 through the vastness
of the desert. I found the open space awe inspiring. Distant mountains that
turned to purple when the sun set, a golden sunrise in the morning. There was
a sense of serenity and stillness. Maybe I’d discovered my personal island in
this vastness of quiet and beauty.
I was almost out of gas and my radiator was steaming when I pulled into
a gas station at Amboy, California. The gas station and a small cafe
was the town. There was nothing else. An extinct volcano crater in the
distance added uniquely to the desert scenery.
An old timer, wearing a dirty white shirt and baggy black pants, held by
suspenders, ambled out. My gas was delivered from the single gas pump that
measured the gallons from a glass container that sat on top. “Fifteen gallons.
That’ll be two-twenty-five.” I fetched the money from my wallet as he pulled a
lever back and forth replenishing the glass container for the next customer
The Amboy cafe was certainly not inviting. Dirty windows and a door with
its screen half pushed out. I still decided to risk a cup of coffee. Entering,
my suspicions were confirmed, but I felt a cup of their coffee would not
poison me. A juke box and pinball machine stood in one corner. Those funny
“quippy” little signs were tacked on all walls. As I sipped my coffee, my
eyes wandered, catching one sign saying “This Property For Sale.” This sign
was for real. I continued sipping my coffee and pondered.
Yes…I bought the Amboy cafe and gas station.
Renovation went rapidly. Labor was supplied by the caravans of dust
bowl farmers who worked for food for their familys and a small cash
reimbursement. I just needed to have building supplies, tools, lumber, and
paints available. With the ample labor, I even built six motel rooms. My
Amboy cafe and gas station started to thrive. I had found a new life. I was at
peace with myself.
I was always reminded of my good fortune when the caravans of Okies passed
or stopped and begged for food. I always did my best to feed a hungry family
or allow them to clean up and rest in one of the motel rooms before it was
made ready for the next paying traveler. Their only agreement was that after
they were fed and rested that they would move on. I did not want squatters
One day, clanking, bucking, and smoke pouring from its exhaust, an old
battered truck pulled into the station. It was another Okie family. Chairs,
mattress springs, tubs, and whatever, loaded in or tied down about the truck.
The tired family poured out, headed for, and drank from the water hose used
for filling car radiators.. The family was a foursome. The father, the
mother, and their two sons. The boys were grubby. They both needed haircuts.
The father approach, his head hanging, a beat man. “Scuse me, mister!..
Anyway I could do some work around here to feed my starving family. I can
do anything with my hands. My wife is a good cook. My boys are handy too.”
“I’ve got a few days chores here”, I replied. “Could probably use your wife
in the kitchen and make use of the boys. Now, I want you to pull your truck
over behind that end cabin. The door’s open. All of you shower up then come
over to the cafe for a spaghetti dinner. I’ll add a couple of cots to the room
so when you’re done eating, you can all go back and rest.” I received a
grateful amazed look from everyone.
The tired troop arrived at the cafe, clean, but wearing their dirty clothes
as they had nothing else. They ate rapidly. I saw that each plate was refilled
as soon as it emptied until their hunger craving had passed.. I gave each a
large serving of apple pie to top things off, along with plenty of coffee.
Finishing, the wife burst into tears with gratitude, the father thanked me
profoundly and both boys shook my hand. “Go and get a good rest,” I said.
“I’ll talk to you when you are more refreshed.”
My relationship with this family went well. The father was a good craftsman
finishing each project with concern and care. I had him install a few more
booths in the cafe and re-shingle the roof. His older son, Jed, helped and
seemed happy doing the macho chores with his dad. I was getting a feeling
about Duffy, the younger cute one. Duffy would prefer washing dishes in the
cafe or cleaning the empty motel rooms rather than do heavy physical work.
I started having fantasies.
One day, while Duffy was cleaning a room, I peeked in a window. He was
lying on an unmade bed, his pants to his ankles and masturbating. I
immediately got an erection and knew I had to make a move. I snuck to the
door, quietly opened it, and tip-toed in. Duffy was so busy concentrating on
his penis that he did not notice me. I spoke softly. “Hi, Duffy.”
Duffy jumped with a start. He immediately covered himself with the
loose bedding. His face turned beet red. I slowly approached and sat on the
bed alongside him. “Relax. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” My hand
slipped under the covers until I felt the softness of his crotch. His penis
had gone limp. He struggled and tried to pry my hand away with no luck. I
softly felt and kneeded his manhood. Duffy wiggled and turned. My hand
followed his moves. “PLEASE! NO! OH! PLEASE!” Duffy make another feeble
attempt to stop me but he was again becoming erect. I gently and slowly
stroked his penis. Duffy stopped his protest and started to moan. I knew
he was mine.
I pulled back the covers exposing his nice uncut cock and sac containing
two gorgeous balls. I slipped back his foreskin, put the swollen red tip in
my mouth, running my tongue across his tip, around the rim, gently fondling
his balls. I dropped my pants and lay besides him. His hand immediately found
and fondled me. I changed to a 69 position. Without waiting, he slipped my
dick into his mouth rapidly tonguing and sucking it. Through his actions,
I knew that Duffy was gay.
We knew we would not be interrupted and we had extra time. We both fully
undressed and lay naked on the bed embracing and kissing. Duffy did not
protest when I rolled him over. I ran a spittled finger up his ass, then added
a second finger. His ass wasn’t too tight. It was ripe for fucking. Using lots
of spit, I covered my dick, found his hole, and pushed inwards. Duffy pushed
back to meet me. What a good fuck! After I shot my wad, I got on my hands and
knees, my asshole twitching and itching for the feel of Duffy’s prick. I
moaned with pleasure as it slipped in and out. It had been a long time.
I was older than Duffy, but as we kissed and embraced, it seemed
that Duffy didn’t care, and enjoyed the pleasures I had bestowed upon him.
Each following day we met in one of the cabins for more.
I wanted the family to stay longer but Jed and his mom and dad heard that
a factory was hiring in Los Angeles and they could go there and earn more
money. Duffy said he would like to stay in Amboy and work until things got
settled in Los Angeles, then he would follow.
One morning, the family climbed aboard their repaired truck and headed out,
Duffy and I standing and waving goodbye. When they were out of sight we
immediately headed for one of the cabins.
Duffy never went to Los Angeles. He stayed with me for a long loving
relationship in the serenity of the desert, away from social persecution.
We lived happily ever after.