Stories from a New York rest stop
I spent all of last Saturday driving from Cincinnati to Northampton. For a sixteen hour drive it was pretty uneventful, with one beautiful exception:
Around ten o'clock I pulled into a rest stop somewhere in New York. It was one of those tiny, run down ones that is barely more than two restrooms, a couple vending machines, and two payphones. As I walk up to this glorified shed I hear that one of the payphones is ringing. I look around for someone, but apart from a couple semis idling across the parking lot, there's no one around.
What the hell, I think, and pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you Tim?"
"No. Do you know you're calling a payphone at a rest stop?"
"Really?"
We compare numbers, and confirm that Tim had given this guy (who I'll just call Fred, he never mentioned his name) the numbers of both of the pay phones at the rest stop.
"Damn," said Fred. "I really need to find Tim. He's supposed to meet us at this Holiday Inn so he can fuck my wife."
As you can imagine, I am somewhat taken aback by this statement. While I stand there slack-jawed, Fred goes on to tell me that he and his wife had gotten in touch with Tim (actually Tiny Tim, who turns out to be a 300 pound black guy) via a site called Slut Wives or some such, and that they had been trading emails for about a week.
"Yeah, my wife got really worked up looking at the pictures of his cock he sent us. She's in the room right now fucking this 17 year old hispanic boy who's the son of the hotel's owner, but he won't be enough. She was really looking forward to getting gang-banged by Tim and his friend."
Wait, there's two of them?
"See, I just don't want my wife to cheat on me again," Fred continued. "She's got a compulsion, she can't help it. She needs lots of sex, more than just one guy can give her. While I was overseas (I'm in the military) she cheated on me with this black guy. He got her into gang-bangs, and now she's addicted to them. When I got back and found out, I decided that the best thing to do would be to just help her find guys and be a part of it so at least she won't go behind my back. She's really a sweet girl, she just needs lots of sex. She works as a nurse so we have to keep things quiet so she won't loose her job."
At this point I've gotten over my initial shock and am just enjoying the story. Other than to find out what Tiny Tim looks like so I'll know if he walks up, I haven't asked a single question; Fred is just pouring out his tale to a complete stranger who just happend to answer a ringing payphone at a rest stop.
I decide to mention that I'm poly, thinking that if he'll tell all this to a stranger, who knows what'll come out if I build a little empathy.
"Polyamorous?"
"Yeah," I explain, "I date multiple people, but I make sure everyone's ok with what's going on."
"So you're bi?"
How he made this leap I'm not sure.
"No, I just date women. I've tried men, but they're just not my thing."
"Oh, ok. I'm not homophobic or anything. I mean, I'll eat out my wife after another guy's fucked her. In the heat of the moment I'll even grab a guy's dick and put it in her, but I'd never, like, suck a guy off or anything."
As entertaining as this conversation is, my bladder is reminding me why I stopped here in the first place, and I decide to get off the phone.
"Listen man," I say, "I really need to get going here."
"Ok. I guess I'll try back in another twenty minutes. I really hope I can get a hold of Tim and his friend; I don't know how much longer the kid in there with my wife is going to last."
"Alright man, good luck. If I see a 300 pound black guy I'll tell him to wait for your call."
"Ok man, thanks."
"No problem."
After I take a leak I consider going up to the idling semis, but I decide that waking a trucker the size of Tim is probably not a good idea.
The moral of the story? ALWAYS answer a ringing payphone.
Around ten o'clock I pulled into a rest stop somewhere in New York. It was one of those tiny, run down ones that is barely more than two restrooms, a couple vending machines, and two payphones. As I walk up to this glorified shed I hear that one of the payphones is ringing. I look around for someone, but apart from a couple semis idling across the parking lot, there's no one around.
What the hell, I think, and pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you Tim?"
"No. Do you know you're calling a payphone at a rest stop?"
"Really?"
We compare numbers, and confirm that Tim had given this guy (who I'll just call Fred, he never mentioned his name) the numbers of both of the pay phones at the rest stop.
"Damn," said Fred. "I really need to find Tim. He's supposed to meet us at this Holiday Inn so he can fuck my wife."
As you can imagine, I am somewhat taken aback by this statement. While I stand there slack-jawed, Fred goes on to tell me that he and his wife had gotten in touch with Tim (actually Tiny Tim, who turns out to be a 300 pound black guy) via a site called Slut Wives or some such, and that they had been trading emails for about a week.
"Yeah, my wife got really worked up looking at the pictures of his cock he sent us. She's in the room right now fucking this 17 year old hispanic boy who's the son of the hotel's owner, but he won't be enough. She was really looking forward to getting gang-banged by Tim and his friend."
Wait, there's two of them?
"See, I just don't want my wife to cheat on me again," Fred continued. "She's got a compulsion, she can't help it. She needs lots of sex, more than just one guy can give her. While I was overseas (I'm in the military) she cheated on me with this black guy. He got her into gang-bangs, and now she's addicted to them. When I got back and found out, I decided that the best thing to do would be to just help her find guys and be a part of it so at least she won't go behind my back. She's really a sweet girl, she just needs lots of sex. She works as a nurse so we have to keep things quiet so she won't loose her job."
At this point I've gotten over my initial shock and am just enjoying the story. Other than to find out what Tiny Tim looks like so I'll know if he walks up, I haven't asked a single question; Fred is just pouring out his tale to a complete stranger who just happend to answer a ringing payphone at a rest stop.
I decide to mention that I'm poly, thinking that if he'll tell all this to a stranger, who knows what'll come out if I build a little empathy.
"Polyamorous?"
"Yeah," I explain, "I date multiple people, but I make sure everyone's ok with what's going on."
"So you're bi?"
How he made this leap I'm not sure.
"No, I just date women. I've tried men, but they're just not my thing."
"Oh, ok. I'm not homophobic or anything. I mean, I'll eat out my wife after another guy's fucked her. In the heat of the moment I'll even grab a guy's dick and put it in her, but I'd never, like, suck a guy off or anything."
As entertaining as this conversation is, my bladder is reminding me why I stopped here in the first place, and I decide to get off the phone.
"Listen man," I say, "I really need to get going here."
"Ok. I guess I'll try back in another twenty minutes. I really hope I can get a hold of Tim and his friend; I don't know how much longer the kid in there with my wife is going to last."
"Alright man, good luck. If I see a 300 pound black guy I'll tell him to wait for your call."
"Ok man, thanks."
"No problem."
After I take a leak I consider going up to the idling semis, but I decide that waking a trucker the size of Tim is probably not a good idea.
The moral of the story? ALWAYS answer a ringing payphone.