The Hitch Hiker 

I was driving over the mountains through Vermont on a cold snowy January night. It was about 9:30 and I was returning home from a business trip to New York. The snow was coming down so hard you could barely see. As I came up the hill past the last little general store I spotted a person standing on the side of the road hitch-hiking. I never pick up hitch-hikers but no-one deserved to be out on a night like this and I knew there was nothing between us and the next town in the valley about 18 miles away.

I carefully slow down and stop. The hitch hiker rushes up to the car. As the passenger door opened a pleasant enough looking young man in his early 20s smiled as he dropped his backpack on the floor and said, "Ah man thank you so much, I didn’t think anyone was going to come along."  

A strong accent told me he wasn’t from the good ole US of A. It wasn't British. May New Zealand I thought or even Australian. Sensing my curiosity he chuckled, "I'm from South Africa." Then another big smile he added, “I’m Clive.”  

“Hello, Clive, I’m James. “Where you headed?” I asked as I carefully pulled back on the road. 

He told me that he was in Vermont working at one of the local ski lodges. Earlier when the weather was nice he’d hitched a ride into town to see a buddy who’d broken his leg skiing.  Now he was trying to get back to the ski lodge and his nice warm apartment.  

“Well Clive, I’m going your way but this snow is going to make it a slow drive. But if you bear with me I’ll get you there,” I told him, 

"I don’t care how long it takes,” he said, “At least I’m not still out there in the freezing cold."  

I nodded in knowing agreement and returned my attention to the road. It was very hard to see and we were only going about 20 mph. I apologized for my lack of conversation but told him, “I really needed to concentrate on driving.”  

Clive said, “That’s fine,” and again thanked me for picking him up. "I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along, I really want to thank you." 

I kinda grunted a “You’re welcome,” and then we sat in silence for a while as the heat, turned up on high, strained to keep the window clear and to chase the chill from our bones. 

I was so engrossed in trying to see the road that I’d actually forgotten Clive was even there. Suddenly I felt a pressure against the inside of my thigh. I turned my head to see Clive leaning into me with his right hand sliding up my thigh towards my crotch.  

"Hey, hey,” I snapped, “I’m really not into that kind of thing, so please don’t do that, besides I really need to concentrate on the road here."  

It didn’t go unnoticed by Clive that I didn’t jerk my leg away. 

"You concentration on the road,” he said, “let me concentrate on this." Then he gently squeezed my cock through my Levis and kept lightly squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing.

 "I really don’t want you to do that,” I said but my voice faltered and he sensed that I wouldn’t stop him.  

Unbuckling his seat belt, Clive turned sideways and knelt on the seat and then put his left hand to my crotch. I felt my seat belt being unbuckled and then heard the snap of my Levis popping open.  Then felt the zipper going down and my fly fall open. Clive’s fingers brushed my thick pubic hair as his hand found its way behind the waistband and down into my shorts. His warm fingers measured the length of my cock before he started stroking it.  

"Oh you don’t want this?" he laughed at me.  

A moan, “Uuuuuuugh,” escaped my lips as Clive squeezed my cock again,  

"Something tells me otherwise,” otherwise he purred.  

Releasing my cock, Clive told me, “Lift your butt so I can pull your jeans down.” 

When I didn’t respond he took his hand away and as he sat up asked, “Do you really want me to stop?’ 

Without taking my eyes off the road and without saying a word I lifted my butt up off the seat so he could slide my Levis down. 

As soon as my butt was back down on the seat his hands were back on my cock.  

"Oh my God," I whispered as he continued stroking me. "Shit that feels so damn good. I never had another man touch me like that before,” I added almost painfully.”      

One of his hands slowly moved up and down my thick shaft while the other lightly rubbed and fondled my balls. I’d been on the road for over a week without sex so I knew with that action I’d explode in no time. Clive sensed or felt my release approaching too so lowered his head onto my lap.  While I continued driving through the snowy night I felt the warmth and wetness of his mouth engulfed me. I moaned, "Ooooh yesss,” as I felt his lips tighten around my hard shaft. As I laid my hand on the back of his head Clive started moving it, bobbing up and down. As I tried to keep my eyes on the road he started bobbing a little faster and then a little faster, quickly bring me towards an orgasm.  

 When his tongue lapped the soft underside of my cock all the way to my balls I wailed, "Oh shit, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, OOHHHHHH God I’m cumming,” but it was more of announcement than a warning. Then I exploded like an A-bomb into his waiting mouth. 

 "My God. I cummed in your mouth,” I exclaimed, “that was fucking incredible."  

Licking his lips, Clive smiled contentedly and assured me that, “Indeed it was.” 

As my eyes returned to the road I could see the faint lights of the approaching town. As I stopped at the first and only stop light, Clive leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Thanks for the ride man." Then he leaned down, kissed the head of my still exposed cock and strap of his backpack in his hand, jumped out the door and disappeared into the storm, never to be seen again. 

The end… 


Actually that wasn't how the incident that inspired this story actually happened. It happened in Dallas instead of Vermont and it was about 2 0’clock in the morning on my way home from work. It was drizzling cold and not snowing. When I stopped to pick up the hitch hiker he opened the passenger door. Standing there holding the armrest mounted on the door he started cursing me(I would say like a sailor but I was fresh from 2 years with the fleet and not even sailors talked like that). Not sure if he was drunk or crazy, either way I didn’t want him in my car. I was driving a big ass 61 Pontiac. When I slammed on the gas to speed away the big heavy door slammed shut on his arm hard enough to break it, but the damn fool didn’t let go of the arm rest. Instead as he was being drug along the highway he did a one-arm pull up. At about 40 MPH I looked over and his face hovered in the door. I couldn’t believe the look of hate and determination on his face as he continued to try to pull himself up into my car.  

I don’t mind telling you that he scared me. 

I was doing almost 60 MPH when his hand finally slipped loose. In my rear view mirror I watched him flopping all over the road like a stunt man in a car chase movie. The weird than was that in the distance I saw him get up and walk away. I didn’t slow down and properly close my door for 2 or 3 miles.  

To this day I ask myself what kind of person takes a tumble like that on the highway and gets up and walks away. 



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