The end of an era in my neighborhood

[Ali Gator]

I still live in the house I was born in back in the early 60s. The neighborhood has gone through its series of changes over the past seven decades, but a few things remained the same...until this week. 

At the top of my street (which runs off a main street, though not too busy) sits a gas station which opened up in the 1950s, just when my neighborhood was being built up. It started out as an Esso Station, then changed to Exxon (in the 70s), then Texaco, then a 'no name' brand. Most of the houses surrounding it were built around the same time, and the building boom ended around the early 1970s, as there were no more empty lots to build on. I remember going to this gas station with my mom or dad as a toddler. It was owned by an Italian man who immigrated here in the 1920s when he was a baby, and he opened this station when he married. It has remained a 'full service station' ever since (never changed to self-serve) with a one-bay garage for very small mechanical work. 

Around 1975, when I was starting middle school, this guy had his son - a recent high school graduate - join him at the gas station. So I was around 11, and this guy had to be 18. I remember driving up in the passenger seat, and seeing this gorgous young man pump our gas, open the hood and change the oil, and then stretch across our windshield and wash the windows - usually with his 'uniform' unbuttoned and wide open. I still remember his wavy brown hair on his head, his mustache and light facial hair, and the light hair on his chest. I realized I was gay from the first day he waited on us. (And he was so friendly and polite to my parents). 

As I got older and learned to drive, I would always offer to fill up the tank each Saturday, knowing that 'Kenny' was working. So I'm in my late teens, he's in his 20s, and now fully matured into a man - complete with a full chest of hair and dazzling smile. In the hot summer months, he always wore his shirt opened or no shirt at all - showing off his beautiful sculpted chest / arms. I lost count on how many times I sprung a boner staring at him stretched across the windshield washing the glass bare-chested. I remember to fill the tank up then, it cost $15 and I would give him a $20 bill and tell him to 'keep the change' (my mom and dad told me it was nice to tip, but that was too much! I didn't care - it was my money from my part time job!). Kenny would always wink and smile, and say 'Thanks buddy ! See you next Saturday'. 

As we got older, Kenny aged like fine wine into his 30s, 40s, 50s - kept the handsome face, the hairy chest, the muscled body. (He looked very much like the Playgirl model Rock Pamplin in his 1970s spread.)  The only difference was his wavy brown hair had a sprinkle of gray in it (including his chest) which made him all the more sexier to me. He'd make light conversation, but I was always too lost in his looks to respond - worried about the boner in my pants. My tongue would hang out whenever he stretched across the windshield and showed off his chest and muscled arms.  (In the meantime, about 25 years ago,  his dad passed unexpectedly, leaving him the business. That's when I stopped tipping him, when he became an owner.) 

I still go on a regular basis to get gas from him, especially in the summer. Now in my early 60s, I somehow found the courage to engage in conversation with him if he's talkative. The other day he broke my heart - said he's putting the business up for sale, as he's pushing 70 and is tired of pumping gas in the frigid cold winters. He plans on moving to Florida to be closer to his 'family' ( a sister and his nephews) in November.  This is the first time in 50 years that Kenny actually killed my boner.  And I didn't realize this gorgeous hunk never married, and never had kids. For the first time, I wondered the other day if he was possibly gay ?  Damn! I could've offered more than a five dollar tip over the years ! 

So it's the end of an era in my neighborhood. I'm going to miss Kenny, his gorgeous smile, his beautiful body even at 70 (he could pass for early 50s). If I had enough guts, I'd ask him to shave some chest hair and put it in an envelope for me - to have as a keepsake. But I don't have the guts. 

[samhexum]

The soundtrack of your post:

 

[+ purplekow]

Listen.  It is not too late to say to him:  I have admired your looks and your body since I first started driving.  I like men and it occurs to me that maybe you do too.  

He is moving to Florida but if he gets the little Ali Gator charged up, perhaps you can arrange a send off.  If not he is not gay or not willing to say he is, then you can wish him well and just go back to the weekly fill up with a bit of tension until he does indeed sell.  

If you do not ask, you will not know.   Do not be afraid, he has known you for 50 years and all that shirtless window washing might not have been an accident.  

Edited July 27 by purplekow

[+ sync]

Revel in the memory, let go of the fantasy.  

[pubic_assistance]

8 hours ago, Ali Gator said:

For the first time, I wondered the other day if he was possibly gay ? 

You salivated over him for 50 years and you never once considered your chances ?

Where is this magical town where a gorgeous shirtless man used pump you full, before you tipped him generously.

Five dollars in the 70s is what now ?...like $50 ? All alone with no partner and he never took the cash bait ?

I grew up in a small city and it seemed to me all the gays found each other and fucked because they didnt have a ton of options...so bird-in-the-hand......

Maybe his shirtless presentation was more geared to all the lonely housewives in town. I remember a similar character in Mineloa NY (where I lived for a while)...same routine. Shirt always open, showing off his ripped body. Half the town was sleeping with him (for money). in his case he didnt ever seem to care what equipment you were bringing (dick or pussy) as long as you brought cash. 

[Ali Gator]

4 hours ago, pubic_assistance said:

You salivated over him for 50 years and you never once considered your chances ?

AS I said in the post, I never really made conversation with him because I was too nervous / intimidated by his gorgeous looks. And what little convo we had was very generic - weather, business, changes in the neighborhood, etc. for all these years. I never thought of asking what team he played on, or if he had a family of his own - I just observed him for those five minutes or so, and felt my dick get bigger and bigger and bigger in my pants. 

[pubic_assistance]

3 hours ago, Ali Gator said:

I never really made conversation with him because I was too nervous / intimidated by his gorgeous looks.

I used to work at Calvin Klein. There were gorgeous models running around all the time. i wasnt a gorgeous model myself...but that didnt stop me from chatting them up..and it also didnt stop some of them from sleeping with me. Everyone assumes that gorgeous people ONLY sleep with other gorgeous people..Never hurts to try. The worst thing to happen? = They say "no". 

Edited Sunday at 09:36 PM by pubic_assistance
punctuation

[+ ApexNomad]

16 hours ago, Ali Gator said:

I still live in the house I was born in back in the early 60s. The neighborhood has gone through its series of changes over the past seven decades, but a few things remained the same...until this week. 

At the top of my street (which runs off a main street, though not too busy) sits a gas station which opened up in the 1950s, just when my neighborhood was being built up. It started out as an Esso Station, then changed to Exxon (in the 70s), then Texaco, then a 'no name' brand. Most of the houses surrounding it were built around the same time, and the building boom ended around the early 1970s, as there were no more empty lots to build on. I remember going to this gas station with my mom or dad as a toddler. It was owned by an Italian man who immigrated here in the 1920s when he was a baby, and he opened this station when he married. It has remained a 'full service station' ever since (never changed to self-serve) with a one-bay garage for very small mechanical work. 

Around 1975, when I was starting middle school, this guy had his son - a recent high school graduate - join him at the gas station. So I was around 11, and this guy had to be 18. I remember driving up in the passenger seat, and seeing this gorgous young man pump our gas, open the hood and change the oil, and then stretch across our windshield and wash the windows - usually with his 'uniform' unbuttoned and wide open. I still remember his wavy brown hair on his head, his mustache and light facial hair, and the light hair on his chest. I realized I was gay from the first day he waited on us. (And he was so friendly and polite to my parents). 

As I got older and learned to drive, I would always offer to fill up the tank each Saturday, knowing that 'Kenny' was working. So I'm in my late teens, he's in his 20s, and now fully matured into a man - complete with a full chest of hair and dazzling smile. In the hot summer months, he always wore his shirt opened or no shirt at all - showing off his beautiful sculpted chest / arms. I lost count on how many times I sprung a boner staring at him stretched across the windshield washing the glass bare-chested. I remember to fill the tank up then, it cost $15 and I would give him a $20 bill and tell him to 'keep the change' (my mom and dad told me it was nice to tip, but that was too much! I didn't care - it was my money from my part time job!). Kenny would always wink and smile, and say 'Thanks buddy ! See you next Saturday'. 

As we got older, Kenny aged like fine wine into his 30s, 40s, 50s - kept the handsome face, the hairy chest, the muscled body. (He looked very much like the Playgirl model Rock Pamplin in his 1970s spread.)  The only difference was his wavy brown hair had a sprinkle of gray in it (including his chest) which made him all the more sexier to me. He'd make light conversation, but I was always too lost in his looks to respond - worried about the boner in my pants. My tongue would hang out whenever he stretched across the windshield and showed off his chest and muscled arms.  (In the meantime, about 25 years ago,  his dad passed unexpectedly, leaving him the business. That's when I stopped tipping him, when he became an owner.) 

I still go on a regular basis to get gas from him, especially in the summer. Now in my early 60s, I somehow found the courage to engage in conversation with him if he's talkative. The other day he broke my heart - said he's putting the business up for sale, as he's pushing 70 and is tired of pumping gas in the frigid cold winters. He plans on moving to Florida to be closer to his 'family' ( a sister and his nephews) in November.  This is the first time in 50 years that Kenny actually killed my boner.  And I didn't realize this gorgeous hunk never married, and never had kids. For the first time, I wondered the other day if he was possibly gay ?  Damn! I could've offered more than a five dollar tip over the years ! 

So it's the end of an era in my neighborhood. I'm going to miss Kenny, his gorgeous smile, his beautiful body even at 70 (he could pass for early 50s). If I had enough guts, I'd ask him to shave some chest hair and put it in an envelope for me - to have as a keepsake. But I don't have the guts. 

You’ve known this man for fifty years. You’ve been loyal. Present. Kind. You don’t need to make a move or confess anything huge. Just talk to him! Exchange phone numbers. Maybe even grab dinner before he leaves.

Because sometimes, the closure we need doesn’t come from letting go, it comes from knowing.

But whatever you do, don’t ask for clippings of his chest hair… that’s gross. Ask for his cum in a condom instead. 😂

[+ purplekow]

"It is nice to have a family to whom you can move close.  I guess, like me, you never had a family of your own.  Living an unattached life can be difficult.  I have known you for fifty years and yet I do not know you at all.  I guess I thought we had nothing in common but  perhaps we actually do."   "I just live down the street, why not come by after work for a pizza and beer before you leave town?"   

If he says no thanks, then you can wish him well.   But what if he says Yes?

Edited Sunday at 09:56 PM by purplekow

[MikeBiDude]

7 hours ago, pubic_assistance said:

Everyone assumes that gorgeous people ONLY sleep with other gorgeous people..Never hurts to try. The worst thing to happen? = They say "no".

This, +1

[samhexum]

7 hours ago, pubic_assistance said:

I used to work at Calvin Klein. There were gorgeous models running around all the time. i wasnt a gorgeous model myself...but that didnt stop me from chatting them up..and it also didnt stop some of them from sleeping with me. Everyone assumes that gorgeous people ONLY sleep with other gorgeous people..Never hurts to try. The worst thing to happen? = They say "no". 

Yes, but as you have mentioned REPEATEDLY, you had an ass that would have intimidated Greek sculptors who would've feared not being able to capture its perfection. (or so you've intimated)

[pubic_assistance]

1 hour ago, samhexum said:

Yes, but as you have mentioned REPEATEDLY, you had an ass that would have intimidated Greek sculptors who would've feared not being able to capture its perfection. (or so you've intimated)

Perhaps true...but I wasn't parading it around the office. I wasnt a model. I was staff. SO....that wasn't part of my workplace moves to get me laid. 

My point was that no one should assume just because someone is gorgeous that they are always unapproachable. I have certainly slept with men who I considered far better looking than me...simply because I tried, and never worried about rejection. 

[samhexum]

1 minute ago, pubic_assistance said:

My point was that no one should assume just because someone is gorgeous that they are always unapproachable. I have certainly slept with men who I considered far better looking than me...simply because I tried, and never worried about rejection. 

Being a wanton slut doesn't hurt, either.

[+ purplekow]

2 hours ago, samhexum said:

Being a wanton slut doesn't hurt, either.

I used to cruise Chinese restaurants.  I was a wonton slut.   

I used to cruise gyms hoping for a guy who could lift 2000 pounds.  I was a one ton slut.

I used to cruise guys by begging.  I was a wantin' slut. 

I would cruise guys who smoked a pipe. I was a one tin slut.  

I used to cruise guys who were members of the Marsalis musical family.  i was a Wynton slut.

I used to cruise guys at low budget Italian movies.  I was a spaghetti western slut.

 

Edited Monday at 07:02 AM by purplekow

[jeezifonly]

Cherish the memories of his beauty and kindness and contribution to your neighborhood thank him in person and wish him well.

But maybe let him face the daunting challenge of leaving a life-long environment, and reinventing oneself at 70 in a totally new place …without adding an unnecessary layer of confusion. I’m sure he’s appreciative of your friendship. (And God bless Rock Pamplin) 😘

[ICTJOCK]

Great to hear the story and certainly sorry to hear he's retiring to Florida.     You never know what possibilities may have been had.   On the other hand,  he gave you years of fantasy and appreciation.    Enjoy it for what it is.    Some men never get this kind of long term fantasy and you had it for decades.

I'd of course want to give him a going away present.

[+ sniper]

12 hours ago, pubic_assistance said:

Perhaps true...but I wasn't parading it around the office. I wasnt a model. I was staff. SO....that wasn't part of my workplace moves to get me laid. 

My point was that no one should assume just because someone is gorgeous that they are always unapproachable. I have certainly slept with men who I considered far better looking than me...simply because I tried, and never worried about rejection. 

Look man, some of us have brains that are wired to continually replay every embarrassing moment, and if you don't have such a brain you just can't understand the psychological headwinds we face in personal interactions with people "out of our league."  People are not always gentle in their "No."

[pubic_assistance]

1 hour ago, sniper said:

People are not always gentle in their "No."

I think the first guy I ever hit on, punched me in the shoulder and called me fa ** ot

Didn't stop me from trying again with others.

Sorry your brain doesn't let go of failures. You're supposed to LEARN from your mistakes, not be handicapped by them. 

Maybe a little help with psychotherapy can get you to let go of those embarrassing moments. We all make mistakes, and we all end up in embarrassing situations from time to time, but most of us, let it go, shrug our shoulders and move on. Otherwise you never accomplish anything because you're too afraid to try.

[samhexum]

10 minutes ago, pubic_assistance said:

I think the first guy I ever hit on, punched me in the shoulder and called me fa ** ot

I'm assuming he hadn't seen your ass.

[pubic_assistance]

4 minutes ago, samhexum said:

I'm assuming he hadn't seen your ass.

Sadly, I don't think even my five-star ass would have worked to woo that one. Pity..he was so amazingly sexy.

I had (have) an unfortunate taste for straight boys. Took a while to figure out that liberal amounts of tequila, and weed blurs the line between straight and mostly-straight. 😉

[+ sync]

5 hours ago, sniper said:

Look man, some of us have brains that are wired to continually replay every embarrassing moment, and if you don't have such a brain you just can't understand the psychological headwinds we face in personal interactions with people "out of our league."  People are not always gentle in their "No."

I recall from reading that most humans can recall every negative experience that they have had but cannot recall the last pleasant experience.  After reading that I realized that I'm pretty much like that.

[+ José Soplanucas]

On 7/27/2025 at 1:44 AM, Ali Gator said:

I still live in the house I was born in back in the early 60s. The neighborhood has gone through its series of changes over the past seven decades, but a few things remained the same...until this week. 

At the top of my street (which runs off a main street, though not too busy) sits a gas station which opened up in the 1950s, just when my neighborhood was being built up. It started out as an Esso Station, then changed to Exxon (in the 70s), then Texaco, then a 'no name' brand. Most of the houses surrounding it were built around the same time, and the building boom ended around the early 1970s, as there were no more empty lots to build on. I remember going to this gas station with my mom or dad as a toddler. It was owned by an Italian man who immigrated here in the 1920s when he was a baby, and he opened this station when he married. It has remained a 'full service station' ever since (never changed to self-serve) with a one-bay garage for very small mechanical work. 

Around 1975, when I was starting middle school, this guy had his son - a recent high school graduate - join him at the gas station. So I was around 11, and this guy had to be 18. I remember driving up in the passenger seat, and seeing this gorgous young man pump our gas, open the hood and change the oil, and then stretch across our windshield and wash the windows - usually with his 'uniform' unbuttoned and wide open. I still remember his wavy brown hair on his head, his mustache and light facial hair, and the light hair on his chest. I realized I was gay from the first day he waited on us. (And he was so friendly and polite to my parents). 

As I got older and learned to drive, I would always offer to fill up the tank each Saturday, knowing that 'Kenny' was working. So I'm in my late teens, he's in his 20s, and now fully matured into a man - complete with a full chest of hair and dazzling smile. In the hot summer months, he always wore his shirt opened or no shirt at all - showing off his beautiful sculpted chest / arms. I lost count on how many times I sprung a boner staring at him stretched across the windshield washing the glass bare-chested. I remember to fill the tank up then, it cost $15 and I would give him a $20 bill and tell him to 'keep the change' (my mom and dad told me it was nice to tip, but that was too much! I didn't care - it was my money from my part time job!). Kenny would always wink and smile, and say 'Thanks buddy ! See you next Saturday'. 

As we got older, Kenny aged like fine wine into his 30s, 40s, 50s - kept the handsome face, the hairy chest, the muscled body. (He looked very much like the Playgirl model Rock Pamplin in his 1970s spread.)  The only difference was his wavy brown hair had a sprinkle of gray in it (including his chest) which made him all the more sexier to me. He'd make light conversation, but I was always too lost in his looks to respond - worried about the boner in my pants. My tongue would hang out whenever he stretched across the windshield and showed off his chest and muscled arms.  (In the meantime, about 25 years ago,  his dad passed unexpectedly, leaving him the business. That's when I stopped tipping him, when he became an owner.) 

I still go on a regular basis to get gas from him, especially in the summer. Now in my early 60s, I somehow found the courage to engage in conversation with him if he's talkative. The other day he broke my heart - said he's putting the business up for sale, as he's pushing 70 and is tired of pumping gas in the frigid cold winters. He plans on moving to Florida to be closer to his 'family' ( a sister and his nephews) in November.  This is the first time in 50 years that Kenny actually killed my boner.  And I didn't realize this gorgeous hunk never married, and never had kids. For the first time, I wondered the other day if he was possibly gay ?  Damn! I could've offered more than a five dollar tip over the years ! 

So it's the end of an era in my neighborhood. I'm going to miss Kenny, his gorgeous smile, his beautiful body even at 70 (he could pass for early 50s). If I had enough guts, I'd ask him to shave some chest hair and put it in an envelope for me - to have as a keepsake. But I don't have the guts. 

Were you asking for advice or our opinion? I do not think so.

Thank you for this personal and beautifully written vignette. I love how you generously share your fear, your hesitation, your infatuation. Some here may think that you were a loser in this situation. Who knows? I praise your courage to show yourself far away from the confident and self assuring player some here portray to be. 

Edited Monday at 11:45 PM by José Soplanucas