tagGay MaleDown and Out in Miami

Down and Out in Miami


Under the heading of 'It seemed like a good idea at the time', my girlfriend Valerie and I left our upper Midwest home and drove to work in Yellowstone National Park for the summer.

We had both worked at a neighborhood bar & grill, she waited tables and I tended bar, until the owner, generous to a fault, had to close the doors due to lack of funds.

Val and I met there, began dating, then we moved in together. It was a 'fun' relationship. After work we'd have a couple 'shifters', sometimes go to an 'after hours' club and go home to enjoy more libations. She was a few years older than me but looked great, and was fun to be around. She had a terrific personality.

When we arrived at the Canyon area of Yellowstone to process in for work we made one crucial mistake: we told them we weren't married. Who'd have thought in this day and age that would still matter to some people? So they wouldn't allow us to stay together in the same room. We both were assigned rooms with members of our own gender. Val worked the curio counter, and I stocked groceries and worked the cash register.

Our co-workers fell into two categories: college kids working a summer job and having fun, and older, retired couples who worked to earn some traveling money. I was 22 and Val was 34. The older people were wary of our situation, but the college kids liked to party with us. She made everyone smile and laugh, and, she could hold her liquor, too.

After work every night we'd hit the bar, and on our days off we played 'tourist' and drove around the park. By the end of the summer I'm sure we'd been to every bar in the park, and in West Yellowstone and Gardner, Montana.

The summer was winding down and we didn't know where we'd go once our store closed for the season. One day I saw a notice on the bulletin board about work in Everglades National Park in Florida. We discussed it and applied for jobs.

A week later we found out we were hired: Val would wait tables again, and I'd be a bartender. Great, we thought. Tipping jobs! Yellowstone is beautiful but you can't get rich on minimum wage. We worried about having enough money to even drive to Florida.

One night after work, and after the bar closed, Val and I went to our rooms. I couldn't sleep. I started thinking about our upcoming trip to Florida. I wanted to plan our route so I dressed and went out to the car to get the map.

When I got close to the car I heard noises coming from the back seat. What the hell? I thought. I snuck up to the window and looked inside: Val was naked and sliding up and down the cock of one of the kids we worked with, Todd. He was certainly well-endowed!

I pounded on the window; I was furious and felt betrayed.

She rolled down the window, and didn't even bother to cover herself. "What the hell do you want?" she snarled at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, stunned.

"Get out of here -- I'll see you in the morning!" She rolled up the window.

I was in a daze as I walked back to our building. Before I went inside I turned and looked at the car. They weren't in any hurry to get dressed and get out of the car. I stood and waited; I never saw them get out.

Needless to say, a week later I was driving by myself to Florida.

I don't remember much about the first couple days on the road. I guess I was still in shock. The weather was good and I made good time. I didn't have much money so motels were out of the question. When I felt the need for sleep I'd pull into a rest area and try to doze, but the backseat of the car was filled with boxes, and the front seat was uncomfortable, so I only managed thirty or forty minute catnaps. Luckily I still had a good supply of amphetamines to keep me awake.

Valerie was on my mind for much of the trip. I replayed over and over in my head our big confrontation the day after I'd caught her screwing in the car.

She refused to speak with me before work, and she wouldn't let me sit next to her at lunch or dinner. I waited outside our dorm at the usual time we'd go to the bar. She came outside and we walked together.

"Val, w-why did you do that? I don't understand!" I asked.

"You stupid little boy! I've been sucking and fucking Todd for the last month!" It felt like a sharp slap across my face.

"W-Why? I thought we had something special!"

She laughed in my face. "Listen, you needle-dick prick...all you care about is getting high...that's all you ever care about...you were a lousy lay to begin with -- now you can't even get it up!"

"I'll change -- I promise! You'll see, when we go to Florida—"

She cut me off. "Listen, Johnny...you're a nice guy, but you have a whole lot of problems...there's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with you! I'm going home with Todd."

Then she sneered in my face. "Oh, by the way, did you like what you saw?"

'W-What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh," she smiled, "You sure took a long look at Todd's cock last night...nice one, isn't it? Did you like it, Johnny?" She laughed loudly and continued walking to the bar. I went back to the dorm.

I tried to avoid her that last week. When we did come face to face, that sarcastic grin of hers would make me blush.

I took a hard, long look at myself. I couldn't figure out what 'problems' I had that she was talking about. Sure, I liked to party, but who didn't? I wasn't an alcoholic -- I didn't drink every day. I held jobs, paid my bills, lived responsibly. Yes, I did enjoy getting high, and yes, it was beginning to affect my sexual performance. But she liked drinking as much as I did...I liked getting high -- I liked being able to 'escape'.

My car troubles started as soon as I passed the sign that welcomed me to Florida. Whenever it rained the engine would die, the power steering wouldn't work and I had to fight to get the car to the side of the road. It happened quite often -- this was Florida, after all. I would usually have to wait 30-40 minutes before the car would start again.

Florida City was the last big town before the Everglades. I was two days early for my reporting date, and I calculated I had enough money for a motel and food. It was Sunday, football day, and they gave me an early check-in, so I took my travel bag, and what was left of the half-gallon Jim Beam bottle into the room.

There was 20 minutes until kick-off of the early game, so I walked to the convenience store a block away and loaded up with chips, dip and other snack foods. On the walk back to the motel, I noticed an auto repair shop across the street. I figured I'd take my car there tomorrow and find out what was wrong with it.

I guess it was the stress of driving, and lack of sleep, but I passed out at the start of the second half of the late game. When I woke, it was 9 o'clock the next morning.

I took some aspirin for my headache and guzzled two quarts of bottled water. Then, I drove my car to the auto shop. I left it with them and headed for a diner for breakfast.

When I returned for my car they explained what was wrong with it and said it would cost $250 for the repairs. I'm not a handyman or repair-type-of-guy, so it was all Greek to me.

"I'm starting work Tuesday at Flamingo, I can pay you when I get my first check," I said.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Bring your car back here after you get paid," he replied."It'll run fine if there's no rain."

So I killed another night and the rest of the Jim Beam and headed into the Everglades Tuesday morning.

"...and your name again, is what?" asked the general manager of the resort.

I told him for the third time. He had no record of me being hired. I told him the home office in Virginia said I had a job.

"I just drove 2,600 miles and you're saying I don't have a job?" I asked.

"No, no...we'll take you on..."

That was how my Everglades 'experience' began. He did hire me as a bartender, but it was soon obvious they didn't need me. I worked a 'service bar' in the dining room the size of a small closet. The tips were lousy and it looked like I'd never get a chance to work the main bar where the money was pretty good.

I had a room about a mile from the resort area, and because of my car problems, I walked back and forth to work. Now I'd thought we had mosquitoes where I came from, but they were nothing compared to Everglades mosquitoes. A week before I got there, a tourist went missing, and the joke was that the mosquitoes carried him away.

About a week later I got a roommate. He was kind of homely, and rather fat. We drank at the employee pub that night, and when we went to bed, he got up and climbed into my bed with me.

"How about we give each other hand-jobs?" he asked.

"ARE YOU CRAZY? GET OUT OF MY BED -- I'M NOT A FAGGOT!" I screamed at him.

I moved to another room the next day.

I met a guy named Chris, he was a dish washer, and hated his job, too. We ate our meals together and hung-out together after work. One day at lunch he showed me an ad from a newspaper. "Earn $1,200 in 2 weeks" read the headline. That caught my attention. To make a long story short, you live for two weeks at some sort of clinic where they do medical tests on you, and when you're done, they pay you $1,200. The clinic was in Miami. It didn't say what the tests were.

"You interested in this?" I asked him.

"John, we both hate our jobs and living here, and we're both too broke to leave. A $1,200 pay day would get us both back where we want to go!"

Medical tests? I was skeptical; he said he'd call the number and get more information.

A few days later after work we were at the pub.

"I called the number -- it sounds legit. They said they had openings for two more guys," he said. "We go in and take a physical then they assign us a room the same day."

"Let's do it! It'll at least get us out of here!" I said.

We left for Miami the next day.

Neither of us had ever been to Miami, and we'd have to spend at least one night in a motel. I decided to drive straight to the beach. We'd never seen the Atlantic Ocean, either.

We made it to Ocean Boulevard and it was obvious the hotels/motels were out of our price range. I kept driving north on Ocean Boulevard until it ended. We had to go into the city.

We went under Interstate 95 and came to NW 79th Street. It was a pretty seedy area; lots of boarded up stores, and vacant lots. Chris spotted a motel sign advertising a price we could pay. I pulled the car into the driveway of the Daisy Chain Motel. We went inside. The desk clerk had a Middle Eastern appearance. His name tag read 'Ahmad'. He was hard to understand, but he said he had one room left, but it only had one bed. We said 'fine' and we paid for it.

The motel had about 25 separate little bungalows, and a swimming pool and hot tub. There was a diner that served liquor next to the office. The bed in the room was king-sized, big enough that sharing it wouldn't be a problem. We left our stuff in the room and went for dinner at the diner. We decided alcohol probably wouldn't be a good idea since we had to take physicals early the next morning.

Afterwards we sat at the pool. It was disappointing -- there were only guys at the pool. We went to bed early.

We ate breakfast then set out for the clinic. We talked about what we'd do with the money. We found the clinic and they gave us physicals. The doctor came out and told Chris everything was good with him. Then he spoke to me.

"Let's see..." he studied his chart. "John, I'm sorry to tell you this, but we can't use you for the tests -- you have too much protein in your urine."

I was shocked! Huh? Protein in my urine?

"We have another round of tests starting in four weeks, and we can accept you for those. Come on back in four weeks. Thanks for coming today."

I think Chris saw my stunned expression because he offered to leave with me.

"No-no-no..." I said, and I watched as they led him to his room.

Back outside the Florida heat and humidity felt especially stifling.

What the hell am I going to do now? I wondered. I sat in the car a long time. Finally, I started it and drove back towards the Daisy Chain Motel. I remembered seeing a day labor company a block away. I'd go there the next day and find work.

I didn't have enough money to spend the night at the motel. I parked across the street next to a large, tree-filled park. I walked to a convenient store and bought a bag of chips and a Pepsi. I sat in the park the rest of the day.

It was dark outside. I planned on sleeping in the car so I went to the public men's room in the park to take a leak. There were two urinals and one was being used. I stood at the other one. The man looked at me closely before he left.

What was that about? I asked myself.

When I went outside the man was standing there. He came up to me. My heart was pounding; I was afraid.

"I'll give you five bucks for a hand-job," he said matter-of-factly.

My response to him surprised me. "Make it ten!" I said. It was at that moment I realized I was capable of doing just about anything to survive. Desperate times calls for desperate measures!

"Fuck-off!" he said and walked away.

As I walked to my car I cursed myself for being greedy -- I should have agreed to the five dollars.

It began to rain. I sat in the car listening to the steady pelting of my car by the rain drops. The front seat of my car wasn't made for sleeping. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I was awakened by someone pounding on the window. It was a cop!

"What do you think you're doing? You can't sleep here!"

"Sorry about that," I said.

The rain had stopped. I had to take a leak so I walked into the park to the men's room. In my groggy state, I thought it was about 2 or 3 in the morning. I looked at my watch -- 11 o'clock -- you gotta be kidding me! I still had all night to kill.

There was a man washing his hands when I entered the men's room. I did my business, aware that the man was watching me. He was still at the sink when I washed my hands.

"Nice rain," he said.

I wasn't sure how to play this; I didn't want to miss out on another opportunity. As I dried my hands I flashed him a broad smile.

"Yeah, looks like it might rain all night, and I don't have anywhere to go."

A smile formed on his lips. "Hungry?" he asked. I nodded. He pointed in the direction of the diner. "Eat?" he asked.

"Sure, that would be great," I said.

As we walked to the diner I sized him up. I'm 5'8" and he was shorter than me. Like the desk clerk, he sounded and appeared to be from a Middle Eastern country. It looked like he was going to buy me a meal, I wondered what else?

I sat in a booth and I figured he would sit across from me, but he slid in beside me -- close. He asked if I wanted a beer, and I said, "That sounds great!" I wondered if I came off sounding too eager.

We had two beers and he ordered us rib eye steaks. The food was delicious. Mid-way through the meal he took my hand and placed it on his crotch. His penis was hard. Or at least it felt like it. It was about 3 inches long and thick. It was the first penis other than my own I ever felt. I squeezed it. He smiled. I went to use that hand to cut my steak but he stopped me.

"Keep hand there!" he said. I put my hand back on his cock, and he cut up the rest of my steak for me. I slowly stroked it through his slacks for the rest of our meal.

When we were leaving the diner he said, "We go to my car!"

I pointed to the motel and asked, "How about there?"

He frowned. I may have went a little too far. He might not have enough money for the motel. But then again, I didn't want to go to his car and give him a hand-job and be back out on the street afterwards.

I smiled at him. "If we had a room, I could get naked and we could stretch out on a big bed."

His eyes widened at the thought. He pulled out his wallet and gave me the exact amount for the room.

I went inside alone. 'Ahmad' was behind the front desk again. "You back -- good!" he said in his broken English.

He gave me two keys, and when I said we'd only need one he winked at me. I blushed.

We found our bungalow and went inside. I didn't know what I was supposed to do in this situation. I decided to try and get it over with as quickly as possible. I stripped; he sat on the bed and watched me. When I was naked he had me stand before him and he ran his hands over my body. I turned around for him and he caressed my bottom-cheeks. Then he roughly tried to push a finger into my asshole. I jumped; he laughed.

He had me lie on the bed as he took off his clothes. He was short, overweight and hairy. His hard-on looked like a small block of wood. I sympathized with real hookers, I saw first-hand the kind of people they had to 'service'. This profession required a strong stomach, I thought.

He climbed on top of me and held my head still. He kissed me. It was the very first time I kissed another man. I had to fight my instinct to gag; his breath stunk of beer and onions.

He kneeled on the bed and lifted my legs over my head. I was extremely aware of my exposed anus. He tried several times to get his cock inside me. He grunted and groaned but couldn't get his cock inside my asshole. I was relieved when he quit trying.

He placed his knees on either side of my chest and positioned himself so his cock was inches from my face. I could plainly smell the aroma of his private parts. My arms were pinned to the bed under his weight. I had resigned myself to the fact that I might have to suck his cock. I opened my mouth.

Instead, he stroked his cock himself. Every now and then he'd rub it on my face. He began breathing harder; his hand moved faster. Now, I of course, had never seen another man ejaculate before, and I thought it would be something different. Instead of semen forcefully shooting out of his cock, it dribbled out of his slit and onto my face. When he finished, he wiped his cock on a dry patch of my face and climbed off the bed.

I didn't know what to expect next. I thought he'd probably rest then have another go at me. Instead, he got dressed and left. He never said a word, or even looked at me.

Fine with me, I thought. I didn't get any money, but I had a good meal and a roof over my head.

I went to the bathroom and wiped my face with a towel. I took a leak then went back to bed and looked forward to a night of sound sleep.

The phone on the nightstand next to the bed startled me at 2am. I had just drifted off to sleep when it rang.

"Police look for you -- you come to office -- you hide here!" I recognized Ahmad's voice.

"W-What? What is going—"

He cut me off. "Come here now!" He hung up.

Panic set in. Police? I remembered the cop who woke me up in my car. Oh my God -- what's going on? I hadn't brought anything in from the car so all I had to do was dress, and get the hell out of there.

When I walked into the motel office, a young black man was behind the front desk. I asked for Ahmad and he pressed a button on the counter. Ahmad immediately appeared from a door behind the counter. He rushed me to the side and buzzed the door to let me in. He led me through another door into a small apartment. He must live here, I thought.

He had me sit on the edge of the bed. He was on a love seat.

My heart was racing and I began to sweat. He assured me everything would be alright now. The police wouldn't find me here.

"You sleep here," he said.

He said the police were shining flashlights into my car. He led me to the door again and went behind the front desk. Sure enough, I could see my car across the street and there was a police car parked behind it. We went back into his apartment.

He went to the small kitchen and returned with two cups of what smelled like tea.

He gave me a cup and I asked: "What's this?"

"Green tea -- you drink!"

It was good; just the right sweetness for my taste. We drank the tea in silence. Soon, all my panic, and nervousness disappeared. A sense of well-being and happiness washed through my body. I looked at Ahmad, he smiled at me and I smiled back.

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