The places in this story are real, but any similarity to real persons or events is totally coincidental. This story contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such offends you or you are below the age where reading such material is legal, please move on. Comments are appreciated. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
A THANKSGIVING TRIP
Part 1: The Way Up
by Macout Mann
I was goanna spent Thanksgiving with my granddad. First trip away from home by myself. First time to hitchhike. So I skipped school Wednesday and set off early. Dad dropped me at a good exit on I65 before he went to work. He'd always said a sign didn't help, but he'd still had the sign shop at work make a neat professional one that said "TO ATLANTA FOR THANKSGIVING" on one side, and "BACK HOME TO MOBILE" on the other. I had shaving stuff and a toothbrush and a couple of changes of clothes in my bag. So I was ready for whatever. It takes under five hours to drive it, so I was hoping to be in Atlanta by nightfall or at least by ten their time.
I was 18 at the time, and it was warm for November. So I was wearing just jeans, a t shirt, and a jean jacket. Thought maybe being in shape would help me get rides. For the past two summers I'd worked for this big landscaping outfit, where my dad worked, and had really bulked up.
I stuck my thumb out on the ramp, and got my first ride about fifteen minutes later. Dude about thirty. He was night manager at a motel in Mobile and was headed home to Stockton, about five exits down the road. That'd get me out of the metro area. He looked real sleepy, so we didn't talk a lot. He did say he used to hitch a lot and usually picked guys up 'cause he knew what it was like out there. "It sure ain't as easy to get rides like it used to be," he said.
After he let me out, I waited almost an hour for my next ride. An old farmer and his wife in a beat up pickup. They told me to ride in back, so in spite of the sunshine I got pretty chilly in the wind. But like they say, "A ride's a ride." They were headed to Evergreen, about half way up to Montgomery, where I85 begins, so it was worth being cold for a while.
There wasn't a whole lot of traffic at the exit where the farmer turned off, so after about a half hour I walked up to the end of the ramp. That's illegal, of course, but I figured I'd never get a ride if I didn't. It was still another half hour before this almost new Toyota Corolla rolls to a stop and I jump in. The guy inside didn't look much older than me. Good looking dude in a sparkly white T shirt that had to have been washed and pressed by a professional laundry. He had neat biceps that rippled under the tight fitting sleeves, and I also noticed a great looking dick print against his new 501s. Things had to be looking up.
"Throw your shit in the back seat," he said, "if you'll be more comfortable."
"Thanks, man," I said. "I thought I'd never get a ride."
He put out his hand. "I'm Warrick," he said. "But guys call me 'Rick'"
"Chuck," I said.
We chatted. He was a senior at Tulane. Headed home to Birmingham for the holiday. We talked about how Tulane was different since Katrina. He told me he was on the swim team. I told him my dad was a swimming champ in high school, but didn't go to college. I said I wasn't planning on college either. The miles passed and we got closer to Montgomery.
"You know, Chuck, you might think about going with me on to Birmingham. It's about a hundred miles further, but there's construction on '85 East around Montgomery. It might be easier for you on I20.
"Hell, why not?" I answered. "I might get a ride on '20 to the other side of Atlanta, closer to my granddad's place."
So we passed through Montgomery, still talking about nothing in particular.
"You hitchhike a lot?" Rick asked.
"This is my first time, except for going from Mobile down to the Gulf and back."
"They say there're a lot of queers that pick up hitchhikers."
"They don't bother me none."
"Oh?"
"Shit, dude, I like to feel lips around my dick, and it don't matter a whole lot whether they belong to a gal or a guy."
"Oh." he said again. "Do you like to suck?"
"I'd rather be sucked, but I'll go down on a guy, if I'm in the mood."
At the next exit Rick pulled off the freeway without another word. He parked in a deserted church parking lot. "You know, Chuck," he said, "you can see miles from here. They call it 'hiding in plain sight.'"
Casually, he put his hand on my crotch and felt my dick grow under his touch. "I saw you glance at my joint when you got in the car," he said. " I thought we might get together."
"I was hoping so," I said. And I reached over to feel his already hard tool too.
"You watch for traffic," he said. He undid my fly and laughingly he added, "That's a nice dick for a high school kid. Does it take you long?"
"Probably not today. I haven't got off since Monday night."
His lips slid down my shaft and he burried his nose in my pubes, just letting his tongue swish around my throbbing bone. I could've cum right then, but I held back as he slowly began to suck up and down the full length of my dick. Man, he was something else. Ever so often, he'd just hold his mouth around my knob and let his tongue stab my slit. And sure enough, it didn't take long. I sent a load down Rick's throat that seemed like at least a cupful. "Goddam, that was great," I said.
"Better than great," he moaned as he came up for air. "No gal's ever given you head like that, I'll bet."
"Now it's my turn," I said.
I unbucked the big western style belt he was wearing and unbuttoned his 501s. He was wearing white, white, briefs, so I couldn't get to him as easy as he got to me. He pulled his briefs down to his knees, and there was that beautiful mushroom head I'd fantasized about when I first saw his dick print. I took him as hungrily as he'd taken me and drank his cum like it was mother's milk.
We sat for awhile, and then he began to play with my still exposed tool. It hardened at once, and soon I ws again feeling the pleasure of his lips and tongue working me over. This time I experienced him for almost ten minutes before I came. I was fucking exhausted and so was he.
We continued north. Rick told me how unhappy his life is. Here he's got a father that can give him a new car for Christmas, but who would kick him out of the house if he had any idea that he was gay. His dad's even a trustee of his school, so he can't ever be himself. I didn't make him feel worse by telling him anything about my family and how open we all are. But shit, I really felt sorry for the poor bastard.
We stopped for a bite to eat at a restaurant in Calera. Rick insisted on paying my tab. And before we reached Birmingham, he pulled off at another exit for more sex. Damn, he was good!
As we got closer to Birmingham, he said he lived in Mountain Brook, which is on the south side of the city. I'd have a tough time getting through town, so he volunteered to take me all the way over to I20 East. I gave him my phone number and told him to call the next time he was passing through Mobile, but I'm sure I'll never see him again.
It was way after four, when Rick dropped me at the interchange. Traffic was heavy, and it was way after five, before I was picked up by a preacher headed for Anniston, about forty five minutes away. He wanted to know if I was "saved." I told him I was, but that didn't stop him from telling me how much evil there was out here on the road. Guys drinking and driving and even queers that preyed on guys like me.
I told him I could take care of myself if one of them ever came on to me.
He laid his palm on my knee and said, "I don't know about that. You're a cute young man and it's going to be getting dark. I'd be happy for you to spend the night at my house. I'll bring you back to the freeway in the morning after breakfast."
I started to tell him what I'd been dong with Rick and that I might not be able to get it up if he wanted it, but instead I just said, "No thanks. I need to get to Atlanta tonight."
Besides I don't like guys calling me "cute."
I didn't get picked up by a gay dude, but the next ride I got did have a beer between his legs. He was driving a pickup and was headed all the way to Augusta, which meant he'd be going all the way through Atlanta and could drop me near my grandad's. I guess he was about 40, and after about five minutes of chit-chat he offered me a beer. We drove the rest of the way drinking beer and talking mostly about straight sex. If half of what he said was true, he was some kind of cocksman. I told him some stories about me and a neighbor gal and her mom. I didn't exaggerate a whole lot. But I did leave a lot out, especially the part about my kid brother and me taking the gal at the same time.
He dropped me about a half mile from Granddad's. I called him on my cell, he picked me up, and I was at his place by nine.
Copyright 2008, 2011 by Macout Mann & Associates