Cocksucker Hitch Hiker

This story is not fiction. It’s based in my true life experiences, but I’ve combined two adventures here. Maybe the sub-title should be “Peter, Paul, and Marion.”

The year is 1950. I’m Adam, a 22 year old college student. I stand 5' 9" tall, I’m blond, and think I’m cute. The way some girls and guys look at me confirms it. I attend a university in the city, but I live on a farm with my Dad 20 miles out in the country. I don’t own a car, because my Dad can’t afford to buy one for me. I don’t have a job. My studies and work on the farm take up all of my time.

I’m muscular, but I don’t work out in a health club. My body developed naturally from heavy farm work. I ride to the city with my Dad in the mornings. My classes end at 2:30, and I don’t want to hang around the rest of the afternoon waiting for him to take me back home. So I decided to hitchhike home in the afternoons. I go to the edge of the city and stick my thumb out on the highway leading to our farm.

Let me explain my modus operandi. Only men stopped to pick me upnwomen never. The drivers could see that I am farm schoolboy with books and probably no threat. Besides, in those days it was easy to hitch a ride. I developed a scientific routine. When a car stopped, I asked the driver how far he was going. He would answer "To so and so point." That gave me a chance to get a good look at him. If I didn’t like what I saw, or there was more than one person in the car, I would reply that I was going farther and didn’t want to miss a later ride that would take me to my destination. They usually understood and drove off. If I like what was inside, I accept, even though often they weren’t going far at all. I sometimes rejected great-looking guys if they were only going a very short distance. I would calculate how much time I would need to accomplish my ends, and if it were insufficient, I sent them on their way.

Once inside their car, on the passenger side, I begin my spiel. I quickly bring the subject to sex. If I see they are uncomfortable, I stop that conversation. If they open up, I press them further. I ask if a woman ever gave them a blow job. Many answer yes. I then ask, "How about a man?" Some admit they have, and others say they haven’t. If their reaction is hostile, I change to other topics. If they already had a man do it, I ask, "Want one now?" The answer is usually yes. For those who answer they never had a man do it, I ask if they would they do it if they had the chance. Again, a negative reaction ends the questions. If they reply yes, they would consider it, I close in for the kill. I enjoy sucking dick. It is like sucking energy out of people to sustain my well-being.

It is easy to find little-traveled back roads where I can perform. Often, I make two or three conquests on the way home. Not one ever became belligerent afterwards. I choose people well. I estimate my success rate is six out of ten. I began to mark a calendar each day with a number representing my contacts. After a month or so, I was staggered how many had accumulated and I stopped keeping count.

The day of this incident, I got lucky. After five minutes waiting in my usual thumbing spot, an older model car pulled up and stopped. I looked at the driver and boy was he sexy! He posed the usual question, “Where are you headed?”

“I’m going home. I live off Mt. Washington Road.”

“Well, I live a bit further, so hop in,” he offered. “My name is Pete.” He looked to be about twenty-eight years old.

“Mine is Adam, it’s a pleasure.” I quickly got into my usual questions while admiring his masculinity. He admitted that a guy had sucked his cock once, and he enjoyed it.

“I know a guy who will suck you off,” I said. He looked surprised and asked, “Who?”

“He’s sitting right here beside you,” I answered.

“You!” he exclaimed. “You don’t look like the type.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I retorted. I reached over and groped his basket. It began to swell.

“I know a deserted road, we can go there,” he mentioned. We went down that lane and he pulled into the driveway of an abandoned farm.

“It’s not too easy to do it in the front seat of your car,” I explained. “Why don’t we get out, you pull up the hood, and I’ll kneel down on the ground. If a car comes, alert me, and I’ll get up before it get’s too close.”

“Sound’s great,” he rejoined. We got out of the car, and soon I was swallowing his entire prick, now fully hard.

“Wow!” Nobody ever did that to me before, You are fantastic.”

Pete shot very quickly, as they usually do, I couldn’t tell how heavy his load was, because it all went down my throat.

After he zipped up he surprised me by saying, “Hey, I have a buddy who loves to get head. His name is Paul. I want you to meet him. He lives not far from here.”

“I’m game,” I enthused, with my mouth already watering in anticipation.

We shortly pulled into Paul’s driveway, who came out to greet us. He looked about the same age as Pete, with a similar muscular body.

Pete introduced me to Paul, and remarked, “Hey, this guy is a cocksucker and he is great. Want a blow?”

“Yeah, I’d like that, but my younger brother Marion is at home. He usually isn’t here at this hour. I don’t want him to know about it.”

“Why not do it in the barn?” Pete suggested.

“Great idea,” rejoined Paul.

So off Paul and I went to the barn, and Pete went into the house to talk to Marion.

Pete later told me Marion had asked him why Paul and I went to the barn.

“They have some private business to take care of,” Pete explained.

Surprised, Marion said, “I can’t imagine what kind of private business it could be. Paul doesn’t keep any secrets from me.”

“Well, in this case he didn’t. You’re 18 now, so it’s time to learn the facts of life. That guy is giving Paul a blow job,” Pete told him.

“WOW!” was all Marion managed to say at first. He hesitated for a few seconds, then asked Peter, “Hey, can I get in on the deal? I’d like to try it out.”

“Well, I don’t see what not. I’ll explain everything to Paul when he gets back,” Pete answered.

Paul and I finished our business, he thanked me profusely, and we went back to the house. As soon as we went in, Pete told Paul that he had explained the situation to Marion.

A big angry, Paul admonished Pete, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, he’s a grown boy now, so why not let him in our little secrets?” Pete queried.

“You’re right,” said Paul. “But anyway it doesn’t make me very happy.”

Peter turned to Marion and asked, “Well, do you want to go to the barn?”

“You bet. Let’s go Adam,” Marion replied.

. On the way to the barn I studied Marion more carefully. He was about five feet, nine inches tall, great natural muscles, cute, but somewhat shy. Once there, I suggested to Marion, “Let’s go up to the hayloft. You can lie back and relax on the hay, and I’ll do my thing.”

“Sounds great,” he answered.

When we got up to the hayloft, I said, “Since this is your first time, I want to give you maximum enjoyment. Take off your sneakers, pants and shorts.” By the time he got undressed, he had a hard dick. It was slightly longer than average, but with a beautiful mushroom head. His prick was ramrod straight. I hate to suck a curved cock. They are harder to deal with. A gentle breeze was wafting thru the open door to the hayloft. It reminded me of the Peter, Paul, and Mary song, “Blowin in the Wind.”

I was determined to take my time with him, because he was a virgin. He was about to pop his first load into a mouth. I knew he would remember this blow job the rest of his life. I started by putting just the head of his dick in my mouth, and gentle squeezing it with my tongue. When it had some saliva, I went about twenty-five percent down his cock. Then I began a slow procedure of coming up, then each time going a bit further down, until I eventually reached his pubes. I noticed that he was watching my every move. I prefer the watchers. I don’t get turned on by a guy who just lays back still, seemingly oblivious to the blow job.

I edged him until he pleaded, “Please make me come!” I put his hands on my head, showing him how to push it up and down on his cock. Then wham! He shot. He lay back on the hay to relax a bit, with a look of great contentment. He got dressed, and we returned to the house.

When Marion and I returned from the barn, Peter asked me, “What is your phone number? I’d like to see you again.”

I replied, "I don’t have a phone, but if you will drive me home, I’ll show you where I live. It’s not too far from here.”

“OK, you’re on,” he answered. I thanked Paul and Marion, and Peter and I were on our way. When we got to the long driveway leading to our Victorian farm house, I invited him in. “Do you want to come in? My Dad has some great whiskey.”

“Yes, I accept.”

Once we were settled down with our drinks, he said, “You know, I’d like to go again.”

I replied, “No, you mean that you would like to come again. That’s OK by me. I love your big dick. Let’s go upstairs to my bedroom. But this time I’d like for you to take your clothes off so that I can admire your great body.” And great it was.

Once upstairs and he was undressed, I told him to lie on his back on my bed, with his legs hanging over the foot of the bed. This gives me an ideal position to perform my best. Surprisingly, he quickly shot a big load, although he had come only two hours earlier. When he dressed, I said, “You are welcome back anytime. But it has to be a week day during the afternoon, usually between 3:30 and 6:30. Or maybe I’ll run into you on the road again.”

“I’ll be back. I sure do like that mouth of yours.”

Fast forward two days. I was relaxing on my front porch, sipping a whiskey. A car that I didn’t recognize pulled into my extra-long driveway. I wondered who it could be. It wasn’t Pete’s car. When the car got to my house, who should step out but Marion. I was surprised. I waved to him, and when he got to the porch, I asked, “How did you find me?”

“Pete explained where you live. It was easy to find,” he answered.

“Welcome, I’m glad you came by. I guess you liked it the other time,” I offered.

“You bet I did.”

We did our thing again, and obviously Marion enjoyed the experience again. He soon went his way.

So, what happened with Pete? He dropped by my house 3 days later with Paul, and a good time was had for all. All three guys have become regulars, and stop by now and again. Sometime it is after I have scored a conquest hitchhiking home from the city.