Author: Ephemere75116

PART II [MFM] The secret code of Levi’s 501 buttons among gay men and my girlfriend giving me head in front of a crowd in a Riverside CA gay bar PART II

[Part I is found here](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/wrnzl7/the_secret_code_of_levis_501_buttons_a_public/).

I am having a hard time finishing this story. I am trying to organize how to get to the end and include the necessary details so it somehow makes sense. Yes, she sucked me off in the grimy, beer-smelling storeroom in front of horny gay men. But, in doing so, I learned she was having an affair. I was clueless and heartbroken. So the last time I was with her sexually was with my cum dripping off her chin in a room of strangers while her lover watched. I am realizing I am still really sad about this. It is a terrible, humiliating way to break up; it still hurts, and it is hard to write about, now 42 years later (hard to believe it was that long ago). But, I still I think it still qualifies as “Gone Wild.” Read more »

[MFM] The secret code of Levi’s 501 buttons among gay men and my girlfriend giving me head in front of a crowd in a Riverside CA gay bar

This all happened a long time ago–1980.

So, back in my day, gay men would communicate their willingness and availability for a quick suck or fuck by leaving one of the five buttons on their 501’s unbuttoned. The lower the button, the more willing. At the gay bar my roommate frequented in Riverside, CA, seeing the slight glint of an unbuttoned bottom button essentially communicated that the wearer was a bottom, and ready right there to go into the store room in the back of the bar and get fucked, no questions asked (this was, dear reader, before the AIDS crisis, and we college students at UC Riverside were quite libertine). The storeroom was particularly known for this activity and spectators were allowed, even encouraged.

I think the name of the bar was “The Alibi.” Maybe on Holt Avenue.

Anyway, they had dancing, and a lot of straight couples went to dance. Or, rather, I discovered that my girlfriend liked to go there to watch the show in the back room. Read more »

[M] 60 [F] 35–Chemotherapy, baldness, the return to working

I had been praying for you, because you asked me to when you left each Tuesday for an infusion of chemotherapy. Over the 12 weeks, you lost your hair everywhere I could see—head, eyebrows, arms. In the summer sun, your legs gleamed as you sat on the stoop, recovering.

You were much younger than I, and I shared how unfair it was that you’d been struck with ovarian cancer in your 30’s. We didn’t go into details, but having been your neighbor since I’d divorced and moved to this area where row houses dominated, we pretty much knew each other’s business on the block. I knew you weren’t married, and now because of surgery before the chemo, you’d never have kids of your own. I didn’t have kids, either.

After the chemo stopped and you were at home before going back to work, I was grateful that we’d end up in the park most mornings, walking our dogs. I wanted to be, what, a support? I remember the day you took your scarf off and rubbed your bald head in the morning sun. “Wow, you have a beautiful head,” I said, which has to be about the stupidest thing any human can say about another. But you smiled, said thanks, and we had that little spark. Read more »