The Hitchhiker
by Habu
1 Aug 2022 2551 readers Score 9.0 (43 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Maybe he wasn’t hitchhiking, I thought. Maybe his car had broken down. But he was walking just beyond where he could have gotten off and found places that would have helped with an automobile breakdown and I didn’t remember seeing a car on the side of the highway in the last several miles.
He didn’t look to be more than nineteen. He had the usual backpack, which was hanging from one of his hands, but he was shirtless, a white T-shirt hanging over his shoulder, and was wearing low-slung jeans. And a cowboy hat and tooled leather boots. This hardly was gear for hiking or walking the asphalt highways. He was of medium height, and lean, hard-bodied. He looked like he worked out regularly. In classic hitcher style, he was pointed at me, walking backwards down the road, with his thumb out.
I didn’t see a stranded car back there, but I’d just passed a rest area. Maye he had come out of a rest area, where he had been left off by his previous ride. And as he saw my car coming down the road, he turned and leaned against a white light pole and looked up at the treetops. It was almost as if he was posing for me.
As I got closer to him, I was thinking that he must not have been without a ride for long. He didn’t look wrung out by the summer heat. So, it was pretty evident he’d come out of the rest area. He must have been backing and thumbing for only a couple of minutes, because I don’t think anyone can back down a highway for long like that and make any decent progress. Maybe he thought he could be picked up quickly like this—by being so sexy looking. And maybe he was right about that. He certainly had gotten my attention.
As I passed him, we made eye contact, and I found myself pulling over just past him. I have no idea why I did that; I’d never picked up a hitchhiker before in my life.
He opened the back door and tossed his bag in and then opened the front door, stuck his head in, and asked, “Can I get a lift down the road a ways? You’re not exiting for the next couple of exits or anything, I hope?”
“Sure, hop in,” I answered. “I’ve got a good long ways to go down this road.” He already had his bag in my backseat, so I guess we both knew the request was only a formality. He draped his T-shirt over the seat back before he got in, which was nice of him. I like to keep my car clean, and, again, picking someone up like this was a new experience for me. He wasn’t too sweaty, though. He hadn’t been hitching for long since the last ride.
“Thanks again,” he said, as he got in and buckled up and I nosed back onto the highway.
“Nice wheels,” he said, “A new Lexus?”
“Yes, thanks. I like it.”
“These SUVs have a whole lot of room. You could really have a party in the backseat there. Bet it lays down to provide a good bed for more than one.”
I didn’t quite know a good answer to that one, so I didn’t say anything.
“So, what’s your name?” He asked.
“Chad,” I answered. “I’m on my way to the coast. I’ve been to the mountains for the weekend.” It was lame, but I wasn’t all that good with small talk.
“Sounds great. Tim. That’s my name, Tim. I’m just drifting down the road myself. Seeing where it leads. Seeing how far I can get on my wits and a promise.”
“Exploring your world between high school and getting bogged down in college, I suppose.”
“Ummm; something like that.” Maybe he wasn’t going to tell me how old he was. Maybe I’d calculated that too high. But I had no idea at the time why I asked that. Later, I decided that I unconsciously knew what was afoot and was trying to protect myself, trying to play safe. He didn’t know it would be someone like me who picked him up. But then I’d just speculated about how presenting himself a certain way might help him get picked up.
We went silent then for several miles. He lifted his arms and did a few twists back and forth in the seat and then massaged his biceps and ran his hand over his chest and down his abs.
I couldn’t help but notice him. “Tough hitching, I guess,” I said.
“Huh?”
“I said, it must be tough hitchhiking like that. Your backpack must be heavy; must have knotted your muscles up.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. And then he laughed a little nervous laugh. “Okay, so it’s getting close to supper time. What can I do in exchange for a meal and a ride for four or five exits beyond that? Maybe a blow job for the meal and then you can do me for the mileage?”
“Excuse me?” I asked in shock and almost ran off the side of the road.
“Huh, sorry, man,” the young man said, “My mistake. I just assumed—from why I’m usually picked up. You can pull over there, and I’ll just get out. Sorry, man. I misunderstood.”
I had gotten the car back under control. “Hey, I’ll give you a ride. And I’ll even feed you dinner, but how did you come to the wild conclusion that I wanted anything for it, let alone that?”
“It’s just the rule of the road, man. I advertise my availability—what’d you think I was doing with my shirt off back there—and a single guy stops for me, and I get down the road a ways and maybe a meal with about the only thing I have to give in exchange. I’m sorry to just come on to you like that. I didn’t know. You stopped when I put out the bait. And you’re a good looker. You look like someone who might be interested. You obviously take good care of your body. A good reason to care for it is so you can use it. It’s why I make the effort. But, sorry. I don’t mean to . . .” He stopped there, like he knew he’d gone too far.
He was right, though. I had stopped. And I had no idea why I’d stopped. Was it because he had been shirtless? Would I have stopped otherwise? I felt myself blushing. Was there something inside me that knew more than I consciously was willing to admit? Maybe I did know why I stopped—and maybe he was right about that; that it had something to do with his looks and how he presented himself.
“So, if you’ll just let me out, I won’t dirty up your car anymore.”
“Hey, it’s not like that. I don’t care what you do to pay for your travels. I just didn’t stop because of that. I don’t know why I stopped. Probably because you aren’t supposed to be hitchhiking on an expressway and I didn’t want a young kid like you to get into trouble.”
“I’m not a young kid. I’m nineteen. I’m of age.” He let that register before continuing. “I don’t ever have to stand beside the road with my thumb out very long,” he added, with sort of a pout.
“You mean there are a lot of guys who stop for you . . . for that reason?”
“Yeah, there are.” He left some dead space so that I could contemplate that. “So, you didn’t stop because you were attracted to me?” he continued. “I don’t look good to you?”
“No. I mean, you look just fine. But, no, I didn’t stop and pick you up with anything like that in mind. Certainly not in the front of my mind.” Shit. Now I was doing it—saying too much.
“So, you don’t swing like that?”
“No, certainly not.” I might have paused a bit too long before saying that, though.
“Never thought about it? I mean, the way I look at it, sex is sex is sex. You have a chance to get it on and get it off with another good looker, a girl with big tits or a guy who’s hung, it’s just a thing of nature. Get it on, get off with it, I think.”
“So, your response would be the same if a single woman stopped for you?”
“Sure, women who would stop for a shirtless young guy like me are as prone to want a fuck than the men who do. And . . . whatever gets me down the road.”
We were silent after that for a couple of miles. I wasn’t stopping to let him out of the Lexis, so we were both settling down.
Eventually, he returned to whatever this was—negotiations? Seduction? “A great looker like you has never thought about that—picking a guy up off the road for a casual lay? The way you wear those jeans—I’ll bet you’re hung too.”
“Well, that ‘whatever/whoever’ view is quite a philosophy,” was all I could think to say. I had to say that it was getting me up.
“Seriously, you’ve never had a blow job from a guy? Never even thought about it?”
“No . . . well, maybe a bit curious. I’ll bet all men who are honest are a bit curious. But, no, no, I’ve never done it or been in a position to do it.”
“I bet you have one guys would love to suck.”
There was no way I was going to respond to that. The kid turned his head and stared out the window. He had his elbow on the sill and was picking at his teeth with his fingernails. The other hand had dropped to rest in his lap.
“Well, then,” he said after a couple of miles. “That sign says there’s an exit coming up in a couple of miles. You can pull over and let me out there.”
“There’s no need for that. We’re cool. I’m not judging you on this. But we’ll stop at that exit for some dinner anyway. I’m hungry too.”
“Then, can I cover the cost of a meal by sucking you off? You say you’ve never done it because you haven’t had the opportunity. Here’s your opportunity. Let me see it. I’m sure I’d be happy to suck it off. A lot of guys let guys blow them. That doesn’t mean anything about them being queer or anything.”
“No! I can afford the meal. I don’t have to get anything for it.”
Tim went silent.
We exited and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. The dinner crowd was already thinning out and dusk was settling in.
“Hey, could you park way over there in the back corner?” Tim asked, as he stretched to pull his T-shirt on. “I’ve got a kink in my leg and would like to walk it out on our way into the restaurant.”
“Sure thing. It should save me from getting a ding on the new SUV, anyway.”
Tim was quiet and a little sad looking through dinner. Over desert, I asked him what was wrong; what he was thinking about.
“I don’t take charity, Chad. I don’t really have anything of value in my backpack to cover this supper and this ride, but I don’t take charity. What I offered is all I got. I do have pride, though. I think you want it, and I want to pay my way.”
“I don’t know what to say, Tim. I understand what you’re saying. We can think about this as we go down the road. Maybe there’s something else you could do. You can always be my insurance against getting a flat, I suppose. If I get one, you can fix it, and that would pay me back.” I thought this was funny, but Tim didn’t laugh.
Tim pulled his shirt back off as we were walking back to the car. This end of the parking lot was quite dark now. I got back in the driver’s seat, buckled up, put my key in the ignition, and started to turn it. But Tim twisted toward me in his seat and put his left hand over my hand holding the keys and put his right hand in my lap, searching for my cock, and finding it through the material of my trousers and briefs.
“Wow, is that a missile you’ve got in there, Chad? I almost thought you really weren’t interested—that I’d read you wrong—but I don’t think it was that old broad of a waitress who’s got you hard or anyone else in the diner. It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Tim! I said no.”
“Here, you feel me. I don’t have a problem admitting that it’s you who’s made me hard.” He’d taken my hand and put it on his crotch. I took a moment too long in taking it away. We both knew I was interested.
“I pay as I go, Chad. That’s my way. I ain’t changing no tire, because your tires look brand new. I don’t think you’re getting any flat tire. And you admitted you’ve thought about it and just have never had the opportunity. You’re hard now, man, and I don’t think it’s for anyone but me—what I’m offering. This is your opportunity. Don’t make me beg. Leave me with some respect.” All the time he was saying this, he was unbuckling my belt, undoing my pants button, and unzipping me.
And I was letting him do that. I sat in shock, speechless.
“God, damn, Chad!” Tim exclaimed as he unrolled my cock and brought it out into the open air. “This thing is enormous. Why are you shy about showing this off?”
“Tim . . .” I started, but he wasn’t paying any attention to me. He was stroking me, trying to get me hard, and, I must say, my cock was cooperating.
“Lay back in your seat,” he said. “Let me at least give you a hand job. You’re hard; you want it. Does this seat recline?”
The seat did recline and I lay back in it.
“Relax. Spread your legs,” he said. I responded, pressed my forearm over my eyes, and emitted a low moan as he gave my shaft a few strokes.
“No, Chad,” he said. “Don’t cover your eyes. Look down and watch me jack you. That’s half the pleasure—seeing that another guy is doing that and that it isn’t just you pulling your own meat.”
I looked down the length of my torso to where he was masturbating me and groaned. His chiseled, Native American profile was in view as well. He was a beautiful young man, and he was jacking me off.
“You got a great cock, man,” he murmured, as he stroked. He didn’t stop there, though. His mouth came down and swallowed me to the root, and my cock was quite a bit longer and thicker coming out than it had been going in.
“Oh, god, no,” I murmured, but immediately contradicted that with an “Oh, shit, yes.”
He wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed, helping to keep the blood that was flowing there stay there, and he began rimming my glans with his tongue and sucking it like a Popsicle. The size of my cock burgeoned and I felt a series of moans escape my lips.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I swiveled and placed them both on his back and massaged his back muscles and let my fingers run through his thick, dark hair. His hair was long, a shiny black. He’d had it in a banded ponytail. I released that and let his hair cascade to his shoulders. It moved in waves in cadence with his mouth work on my cock.
He was pumping me with his mouth now, keeping fingers squeezed at the base of my cock and playing with my balls with his other hand. I was trapped behind the wheel, so there wasn’t much else either he or I could do down there.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned as he took my balls, one after the other, in his mouth and sucked on them as he fisted my cock and continued jacking it.
It was all too much of a surprise for me and too much sudden sensual pleasure for me to gain control. I came in spasms on his face quite quickly. He licked me clean as he withdrew his mouth and then wiped his face with his T-shirt. He came up smiling.
“So, you really did want this, didn’t you? Excited to see me. Haven’t had any for a while, I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I shouldn’t have lost—”
“Don’t apologize. I love sucking cock. You’ve got a beauty.”
He then twisted away from me in the passenger seat and raised his left leg and burrowed his left foot, still in a tooled cowboy boot, behind my back; raised his right foot to the dash board beyond the steering wheel; and leaned back into the passenger arm rest. There was a long line of good-looking, tanned skin running down from his neck across his youthful, clean-shaven chest and six-pack abs, his pert little outie navel, across his belly and to the top of his low-rider jeans and beyond. He’d unbuttoned his fly half way, showing the start of curly dark pubic hair and the band of black Calvin Klein’s in the “V” that had opened there. He also showed tan lines. He’d been out in the sun a lot in just a Speedo.
“OK, Chad. We’re well acquainted now and I think we both know what you want from a guy. Now, for a room for the night, you can do me.” He arched his back at me, causing his chest muscles to expand and his belly to contract and that “V” below to open wider.
“Do you?”
“Yes, blow me. Rim me. Fuck me. Blow and fuck me. Whatever you want. Tie me up. Spank me. Be cruel, if you want. It’s all good with me.”
I sat there, frozen—my mouth agape.
In exasperation, he brought his right leg down and he sat back up. He took both of my hands and moved my right hand around on his chest and plopped my left hand on top of his basket. An electric shock, not unpleasant, zinged through me. Why had I stopped for him? Was there something I wasn’t acknowledging to myself?
I shook my head back and forth and jerked my hands back, away from him. I stuffed my cock back into my pants, zipped and buttoned myself back up, and started the car engine.
“This is crazy, Tim. I’ll get a room. But it will have two beds. And you won’t owe me anything. You’ve paid. You’ve paid in full. That was new and interesting, thank you. And it’s enough to cover the whole trip.”
Tim remained where he was, putting himself on offer to me all the way to the next exit, where I pulled off, looking for a decent motel.
“So, you liked that, did you?”
A moment of silence.
“Yes. How can I say otherwise? But that doesn’t mean I feel the need to do it again.”
I registered and paid for a room while Tim waited in the car. When we entered the room, I threw my bag on a bed and turned on lights. When I turned, I saw that Tim had thrown his backpack on the same bed as I had placed my bag. I picked the backpack up and tossed it on the other bed.
While I rustled up some ice and cokes, Tim had explored the pay-for-TV channels and somehow come up with a gay soft porn film. I ignored his choice and the rapt attention he was giving it while I busily unpacked my toiletries, some pajama bottoms, and what I was planning to wear tomorrow.
“So, do you want the shower first?” I asked him.
“Naw, I’ve got this started. You go on. I’ll wait.”
I went in the bathroom, and while the shower was steaming up, I shaved. When I’d gotten into the shower and started to soap up, I heard the door open. The shower curtain was pulled back, and there was a grinning Tim, Naked and, I must admit, looking long, lean, and ready for action. The tan lines accentuated the slimness of his hips and the beauty of his erection. I very nearly dropped the soap.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed.
“I decided I couldn’t really wait for a shower, and I found the pause button on the TV.” He entered the shower and pulled the curtain back across the opening. Taking the soap from my hands, he said, “Here, let me do that.”
“Tim, you are so exasperating. Get out of here. I won’t . . .” I found myself going weak in the knees, though. His hands were gliding across my chest and down my belly and around my cock over the soapy film. He pulled me close into him and his hands and the soap went to my shoulders and over to my back and down to the small of my back and over my butt cheeks. I could feel his chest and belly and cock against mine, and I started to engorge again. He already had a half hardon.
“You’re in really good shape, he said. A really nice butt and one of the biggest cocks I’ve seen. Here, now you soap me up.”
With that, he stood back, facing me, holding his arms up in a posing position. His hair was down now, and some of it fell down his front, reaching almost to his shoulders.
“Chad. I said you soap me up now.”
I tentatively reached out and began soaping his chest and down his belly. I was into his pubic hair, when one of his hands came down and pushed my hand down to his dick. I dropped the soap, snatched my hand back, and turned to leave the shower.
“Ah, you dropped the soap,” he said. “Who is going to bend over to pick it up? I can go either way, but I usually bottom. So, you want me to bend over and spread my cheeks?”
“No, Tim. This is too far for me. I’m not comfortable with this.”
“Well, okay, but you were comfortable with this,” he said, as he went down on one knee and turned me toward him, with his hands on my hips. “He swallowed my cock to the root,” while holding my pelvis in place with his hands.
“Tim! You’ve already finished with this. Let me go.”
Tim came up for air. “Hell, you came too fast in the car. That hardly covered supper. And there’s breakfast. I’ve got my pride; I’m not going to be beholden to you for anything. And, what’s the problem. We’ve already done this. And I told you. I like sucking guys. I like taking guy’s cocks too.”
With a sigh, I let him have his way. His hands went to my butt cheeks, while I planted my feet as best as I could on the soapy floor of the stall and arched my back to the tiled wall of the shower, letting the water cascade down onto my belly and Tim’s head. One of Tim’s hands came up and played in my chest hair and with my nipples and my abs and belly, and I let him do that. I ran my fingers through the thick, curly strands of his hair, while Tim repeated his penis games from earlier. This time, though, I maintained better control, and he had to pump me for a good long time before he could sense I was coming, upon which he released my cock from his mouth and arched his back so my cum shot off across his chest and belly and got washed down the drain by the water from the shower.
Before Tim could suggest any other payment plan ideas, I retreated from the shower, quickly toweled myself off, and went into the bedroom. I pulled my pajama bottoms on, set my clock, turned off the light beside my bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, and tightly shut my eyelids. When I opened them again sometime later, the room was dark except for the glow from the TV set. Tim was draped out on his bed, his torso propped up by pillows in front of the brass headboard, his legs opened wide across the satiny bedspread, and his hand slowly jerking off his hard cock.
He was also smoking something, and it didn’t seem to be a cigarette. There was a sweet smell in the air, and I was feeling woozy. But I couldn’t help myself. I watched him until after he had come with a sigh and gone back to the bathroom. My attention then half focused on the nightstand between us, and I registered that he put some rather peculiar things on there from his backpack, including a couple of thin leather belts and a roll of masking tape. But the strangeness of that didn’t really register. I was really, really drowsy, and the walls of the room seemed to be swaying a bit. When Tim returned, he turned off the TV set, stubbed his weed out in a plastic cup on the nightstand, and then all was dark.
In the wee, dark hours of the morning, I was awakened by something heavy coming down on the mattress of my bed and the covers being lifted. Tim had come into my bed and was stretched out behind me, his body stretched along mine. His pelvis was cuddled into my ass. His left hand was fingering my hair and my ears and neck, and his right hand was slowly exploring my chest, abs, belly and crotch. As I drowsily came awake, I could feel his cock beginning to rise in the small of my back.
“So,” he whispered, “do you take cock or give it? As I said before, no problem either way with me.”
“No, Tim,” I managed in a sleepy voice, fighting with drugged sleep, exhausted from the road. But he put his right leg over mine then and pulled me toward my back. My pelvis was pointed at the ceiling, and his hand unsnapped my pajama shorts and took a grip on my cock.
“No, no.” I turned toward him and fought him—weakly because I still wasn’t fully awake and because whatever the smoke of what Tim had been puffing was still drifting around the room. We rolled around in the bed, entwining our legs, chest pushing at chest, cocks flopping against each other, bellies heaving, which only served to excite us both and to make me lose my control. My hands stopped trying to push him away, and, instead, pulled and prodded and glided and squeezed. I was exploring him just as much as he was exploring me and just as sensually. These were my sighs and moans I was hearing; they weren’t all his. He had pulled my pajama shorts down to my knees, but I pulled them off my legs and tossed them aside myself.
“In the dark,” he whispered through heavy breathing. “Nothing is real; nothing counts in the dark, Chad. You can pretend tomorrow that this was all a dream. We’ll both pretend it was only a dream. Tomorrow. But tonight . . .”
“No, no,” my mouth was saying, but my body was showing that to be a lie.
“You will be paid in full, Chad. I can’t stand owing anything to anyone. I pay as I go in life.”
I was hard as a rock now and found myself trapped under Tim. He was sitting astride my belly and he had the two leather belts from the nightstand in his hands. He grabbed for one of my hands, but I tried to power myself up. He had a wild look in his eyes and slapped me hard across the face, which stunned me long enough for him to tie both of my hands off on the brass rods of the headboard. Then his mouth came down on one of my nipples and he bit me there. I thought I was screaming, but everything was in a fog, and I didn’t hear any sound come out of me. He became less rough but more methodical, as he nipped and tongued his way down my torso. His long, silky hair was streaming across my body, tickling me, but soothing me around the edges of the attack of his lips and teeth. I saw his long, lean torso raise up before me, and he was coming down into my lap, skewering me with his asshole. It was both painful and pleasurable as he enveloped me. He was too tight at the beginning, and my sensitive glans chafed against the walls of his ass canal. But he opened to me, and I felt a powerful surge as I was drawn upstream into the darkness.
“Fuck me, dammit,” He yelled. “Get your feet under your butt muscles and pump me. I’m paying the bill for this room, dammit. Fuck me.”
I dug my heels into the mattress and found that I could, in fact, get enough leverage to work my cock up and down in his ass, so I languidly pumped him for a while. But I was still woozy. So woozy that I didn’t even feel indignant that my hands were tied off or that he’d slapped me. I wasn’t pumping vigorously enough for Tim, though, so he started wildly pumping me himself, moving his ass up and down and rocking back and forth. I came, deep inside him, and he stopped pumping and stretched out on top of me, keeping my softening cock inside him.
I went back to sleep then and I assumed that he had too. But I awoke again sometime later, with light just beginning to creep in around the edges of the curtain. I had been flipped over onto my stomach, although my hands still seemed to be tied above my head. I was still woozy, and I was beginning to think that it wasn’t all the weed Tim had been smoking, that something may have been slipped into the coke I’d drunk the night before as well. I felt oh so drowsy. And I felt something else too. I felt wetness and coldness at my asshole. It took me a while to realize that Tim was kissing and tonguing me there. It took a while even to realize what this was and where it was leading, as nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I felt his fingers at my ass, and I let out a yelp when he pushed one in.
“Awake, Chad, are we? Keep it down. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.” But I couldn’t help it and told him in no uncertain terms what I thought about his finger the next time he entered me.
“Oh, very well, Chad. This is for breakfast, though. You’ve finally got around to experiencing what a man does to a man, so you might as well get the whole load.”
“Man does to a man,” I idiotically thought to myself. Then embarrassment set in. What would I say, what could I say if someone found us here now? What would they think of me? That shut me up real fast. Didn’t want the neighboring rooms reporting what we were up to. But I was too late. It was then that I found out what the tape on the nightstand was for. Tim ripped off a length of the tape with his teeth and then leaned down and scooped up one of the socks I’d been wearing the day before and stuffed it in my mouth. The tape went on over my mouth, and my yelling mood was doubly stifled. Tim went back to slobbering up my ass and opening it with his fingers and muttering to himself.
“Up on your knees, Chad, and spread those legs.”
I was slow to respond.
“Don’t think you’re saving yourself from or for anything, Chad. I’ve already had your ass. You’ve been fucked. You loved it. I want it again and so do you. Do it, Chad. Up on your knees. Believe me; you’ll want it that way. You’ll want to be as open as possible.”
I went up on my knees and moved my legs as far apart as I felt I could without collapsing. He pushed my butt cheeks apart with his hands and entered me, slowly, with his cock. He waited for me to open to him and he slid in up to the root. Fortunately, he wasn’t extraordinarily endowed. He started to pump me and I felt both pain and pleasure. As both he and I got into a rhythm, though, the mix of pleasure went on the ascendant. When he started not to be able to control his twitching, he pulled out of me and shot his load across my back. My knees gave out, and I sank down on the bed. He lowered himself on top of me, stretching along my body.
“There, now you know,” he whispered in my ear. “You take it both ways—you like it both ways.”
When I awoke the next time, I was under the covers again and was wearing my pajama shorts. Tim was dressed in a T-shirt and those jeans and that cowboy hat and boots, and he was looking out between the curtains at the parking lot. The air-conditioning was on high, and I only faintly could detect any unnatural scent in the air. Everything seemed so normal. I might have written the night off as some sort of gigantic guilty wet dream connected with letting Tim blow me in the car at the restaurant, but my wrists were sore, as was the area around my mouth and, of course, my ass. I still felt a little woozy and disoriented.
“Tim . . .”
“Man, did you ever sleep deeply. And toss and turn. Never saw anyone toss and turn like that, Chad.”
“Tim . . .”
“Yes, Chad?”
“Pick up your gear and get out. This ride is over.”
“I don’t think so, Chad. Not until we’ve had breakfast and you’ve gotten me up the road a ways. I forgot to tell you,” upon which he flipped out his wallet, showing me some sort of fancy badge. “I’m a vice cop. I’m cruising the highway because there are too many reports of someone out here picking up young guys and raping them.”
“And you thought I . . .?”
“Sure. Why not? You fit the pattern.”
“But then when you found out—”
“I like my job, Chad. It gives me some incentives I otherwise wouldn’t get. You had such a nice big cock. And it would be my word against yours, wouldn’t it? And I’m the one with the badge. So how about breakfast, then?”
“Yes. Right.”
When we started off in the SUV, I told Tim I wasn’t feeling real well yet, and Tim asked if he could drive a spell after breakfast. Said he’d never driven a big fancy SUV. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.
“I’m taking off south on the next highway we come to, Chad. You going that way or continuing east on this road?”
“What? Oh, I continue east on this road.”
When we were almost at the ramp to where Tim wanted to head south, he pulled over to the left shoulder and onto a graveled median cross-over road. It was a long, windy one, and Tim pulled up to where the SUV would be very hard to spot from either direction.
“What’s this for, Tim? You could have pulled right off to the exit ramp. I’d have let you off there. You don’t want to be crossing the highway from here.”
Tim took the keys out of the ignition and palmed them. “You can have these back, if you do exactly as I say.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get in the backseat.”
“Tim.”
“Get in the backseat now. I’m sure those seats do go down to provide plenty of room for us.”
Tim stripped naked as he moved to the backseat and pushed the seats down flat. We both went back there, sitting close together on the flattened surface.
“Kiss me, Chad,” Tim said. I just looked up at him, and he dangled the car keys in front of my face, opened his window and tossed them out. Then he pulled me to him, the two of us stretched out against each other, by the front of my shirt. He kissed me on the lips, and I found myself responding. He opened my lips with his, and I let him. And when his tongue entered my mouth, my tongue was there to greet it. All thoughts of his gender and his vice cop badge had flown out of my head. My hands were flying over his body, and one of them wound up wrapped around his dick.
He came away briefly. “Now, Chad, if you ever wonder whether you like doing it with another man, you do—both ways. You like to flip-flop.”
Then he went back into a lip lock, while he started pulling my clothes off me. When I was a naked as he was, he moved over me, reversed on my body, and started sucking my cock. He had his cock pushing at my face, so I started doing to him what he was doing to me. When we were both hot and hanging heavy, he reversed on me again. He grabbed up his backpack from the floor and stuffed it under my back and buttocks, raising my butt in the air. His hands were gripping the insides of my thighs, coaxing my legs to spread. He moved his knees between them, hovering over me.
I was whimpering, “No, Tim. No, not again . . . No.”
He plunged his cock into me and pulled it out nearly all the way and then plunged in again, repeating this, going deeper with each dive.
“No, Tim . . . No!”
In. Out. In deep, revolve hips, rotate cock. Out, dive!
“Ahhhhh. Yes, yes, y-e-s! Fuck me Tim, Harder, deeper. Ahhhhhh!” I put my hips and pelvis into motion, meeting him stroke for stroke, grabbing for his buttocks with my hands, trying to add to the velocity of the strokes into me.
As he pumped me, he muttered to me. “Remember when you feel you want to talk to someone about this, that this is a vice cop’s cock in your nice tight ass. By law, I could arrest you, saying you thought I was underage, and have your name printed across the front page of your hometown newspaper for doing this with me. But this is all because I like you. All I want to do is to pay as I go, and you’ve been extra special nice to me, and you’ve got an extra special nice ass and cock, so you’ve gotten extra special nice payment.”
When he was finished, he pulled his backpack from underneath me and got out of the car. He quickly pulled on his jeans and cowboy hat and tossed his T-shirt over his shoulder. By the time I’d gotten disentangled and dressed and had found the keys and gotten the SUV turned around and back to the road, Tim had already managed to cross the three lanes of traffic. He was up on the shoulder of the ramp to the other highway and was facing me with his thumb out. A Lincoln Navigator with one male occupant had already pulled over several yards up the ramp. Tim saw me and waved and then turned and walked briskly up to the Navigator. Before I could get back on the road, he’d opened the back door of the SUV, thrown his backpack in, and then had climbed into the front seat. As I passed the exit heading east, the Navigator was gliding back on onto the exit ramp heading south.
Driving down the road, my mind went to this vice cop thing. Maybe he was just toying with me on that. I didn’t get a real good look at that badge he flashed, and he didn’t really look older than nineteen. By the time I was entering Arizona I had convinced myself that he was just playing vice cop for the kicks. He was probably playing hitchhiker for the same reason. He’d certainly taught me a thing or two about myself, though.