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Games Cheerleaders Play.

A few were scrawny hyperactive gals. And a VERY few were extremely attractive athletic girls, whom I made a special effort to welcome to the job. Few rode off unhappy.

Mass Bike Streaks occurred. On warm sunny days, we would pass the word: 12:30 today. Male and female couriers gathered in an upslope alley off Montgomery Street, stripped, stashed clothes in bike baskets, and flew naked through the financial district, howling like hyenas. We would regroup in a downslope alley, dress, and go on with the day.

Besides the Quicksilver gig, I also made music on the streets for tourist coins. Bama on his sax, me with my guitar and voice, playing at Fisherman's Wharf and cable-car turntables and anyplace crowded.

We sometimes attracted other players. There was Jenny the fiddler, who almost fucked me, but not quite. There was Jeri the piper, ditto. There was Lee the banjo girl, firecracker-hot in bed, but she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

Came the late autumn, and the gentle San Francisco winter, and the spring, and I was quite burnt out. Even the girl bike couriers I hung with, or the cartoonist's or bike couriers' girlfriends I snuck away with, were not enough to shake me from my funk.

I had been in San Francisco off-and-on for seven years now, and my life was not significantly better, and was certainly worse than my suburban childhood before my folks' divorce. I decided to follow my heart.

And my heart led me to upstate New York, and to Sherry.


I had saved a fair amount of money from my work, enough to keep me going awhile.

First, I thumbed down to Palm Springs to see my older cousin Terry and his friendly wife Jill. Terry was long and lean; Jill was curvy and cute. They had an XKE Jaguar, a swimming pool, an always-full beer cooler, and an open marriage filled with friends and toys.

Clothing was prohibited in and around the pool. Terry and I tag-teamed Jill. Her breasts still fill my dreams. It was a fun visit.

I thumbed to Tucson. I found a houseful of students who welcomed visitors. Skinny sweet Tina was especially welcoming.

In San Francisco, I had bought a German 35mm camera kit and many cartridges of infrared and high-intensity film, and I shot more than a few unusual photos of lanky Tina's naked body writhing around, on or off my cock, exploiting odd slices of the visual spectrum.

"Hold up a second, I need to wipe your pussy juice off the lens."

"It would be cleaner if you hadn't gone for such a close-up."

"Yeah, I guess I should use a telephoto lens and back off a little."

"Hey, that telephoto looks like a really fun dildo!"

"I dunno, I don't think it's weather-sealed."

At this house, I learned that when nothing else is available, one can make excellent pancake syrup from sugar, melted butter, and tequila.

In Tucson, I learned about driveaway agencies. A certain car needs to be somewhere far away; I put down a deposit, pay for gas, drive it there, and get my deposit back when I deliver it safely. I thought, HA! GO FAR QUICKLY! NO LOUSY THUMBING!

I found a big Ford sedan headed for Albany. I checked ridesharing bulletin boards at the university. I found riders wanting to go to destinations along the route. They shared the driving and gas money, and we all got where we wanted, fast and cheap. GREAT!

After two days of almost non-stop driving with three other guys, I was reunited with Sherry.

The family expected me and welcomed me warmly. Sherry applied subtle makeup and looked positively hotly angelic. She glowed as if lit by radium.

Nancy went out for the evening. Sherry took me up to her room. We kissed, snuggled, made oral love -- and then Nancy returned early. Sherry scuttled off. Damn frustrating! But Nancy probably still had her pistol nearby.

I delivered the car to Albany the next day, got my deposit back, and thumbed back to the family. I crashed on Nancy's couch for a couple days, and decided to seriously court Sherry.

I got a room in town in a residential hotel.

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