The disclaimer and caution at the beginning of Part 1 still apply. Comments and criticisms are appreciated. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
A THANKSGIVING TRIP
Part 2: The Way Back
by Macout Mann
I'd planned to leave for home Saturday morning. We'd thought I might not get to Atlanta 'til Thursday, and I might also need two days to get back. Of course, when we'd checked the weather forecasts the Tuesday before I left home, good weather was predicted all over the Southeast all through the holiday. But come Saturday there was nothing but showers in Atlanta and rain all the way south to Mobile.
Granddad said I could wait 'til Sunday, but I told him I'd already missed one day of school, and I'd been wet before. So he drove me down to where I85 and I75 split and found an exit with an overpass I could get underneath. It was almost nine, when he hugged me and left me in the rain. I'd only brought my jean jacket, since the weather was supposed to be so good, and it was soked in no time.
It seemed forever before a ninety-something Chevy pulled over to give me a ride. It had been nearly and hour, and lucky a cop hadn't come by and made me get back up on the ramp in the open. The driver was a nerdy dude with thick glasses, thin as a rail, and arms about as big around as a hung dude's dick. He was headed about thirty miles down the road to Newman.
I introduced myself and tried to make conversation, but I couldn't get him to say much. He did say he'd picked me up because my sign said "back home." I asked him if he was married. He said "no" but that he had a girlfriend. I asked him what he did for a living. He said he was a stock clerk for a wholesale grocery company. Worked from midnight 'til eight. He did say he was uncomfortable, because he'd bought some new underwear that was scratchy. I said I didn't have that problem, 'cause I didn't wear underwear. That seemed to shock him shitless.
"You don't wear any underwear at all?" he asked.
That sort of ended the conversation, and I was glad to get out, when he got to his exit. There was still a light rain falling, and over a half an hour went by before another car pulled to a stop. I was surprised as hell to see a gal at the wheel. She was about my mom's age, and when I opened the door, she said "I don't pick up hitchhikers, but you look half drowned; and I'm so pissed at my fucking boyfriend I don't give a damn if you are a wierd son-of-a-bitch. You look o.k. though."
I said, "Maam, I'm just looking for a ride."
I'd 'ave loved to make out with her, but my dad had told me if I should ever get picked up by a woman, not to make any moves. He said that all she'd have to do was scream and the cops would believe anything she said I did. "If she pulls your dick out of your jeans or takes you to her place, o.k," he said. "Otherwise play it cool."
So I listened to her bitch for an hour about how her boyfriend had been making it with her best friend, while he was living with her and eating her food and not contributing a fucking thing to the rent. She said said she'd locked him out of her apartment with all his shit inside and was heading home. "You wouldn't treat a girl like that I'll bet." she said.
"Maam, I just try to treat people like I want to be treated. 'Hang loose and take things as they come.' That's my motto," I said.
I did let my right hand rest between my legs, but she didn't seem to notice. I was thinking that in the mood she was in she'd be a wild goddamned fuck, but I figured that Dad must know best. She still hadn't made any moves when we got to Auburn, and she dropped me off in front of the big truck stop there.
Me and my brother and my Dad come up to Auburn for a football game every year, so I'd be familiar with the road from here home. Right now the town was pretty dead. The university was out for the holiday, and the Auburn-Alabama game was being played in Tuscaloosa. I found out later that Alabama beat the shit out of Auburn. Alabama is #1, though, so what do you expect?
I waited there on the ramp longer than I'd waited anyplace before. It was beginning to get dark. I was thinking I might even call Dad to come and get me, when a big eighteen wheeler pulled to a stop, and I ran to jump in. The driver was an older guy, a huge bear of a man, gruff as hell. Not somebody that'd turn me on. He told me to get in and relax. He said he was headed to Mobile to hit I10 and then head west.
"I might as well tell ya," he said, "I'm one of them gay dudes."
"That don't bother me none," I said.
"That so?" he said. "Then maybe youd like me to fuck that young ass of yours."
"I'm more of a top, myself," I said. "But I'll let you fuck me, if you've got a greasy condom and fifty bucks."
"Well ain't he expensive?" the driver replied. "Don't gettin' a ride mean anything?"
"Sure,," I said, "but if I was in Mobile down on Government Street, the price would be a hundred."
"I got a couple of twenties on me," he said.
"Put 'em on the dashboard."
"How do I know you'll go through with it?"
"Shit, man, even when I did, you're strong enough to get 'em back from me, if you wanted to. Don't be an asshole."
He passed over the money, but said "You're a feisty little fucker, aint ya?"
"I got Christmas presents to buy," I said.
I stripped off and climbed back into the sleeper. He drove on until he reached a closed weigh station, parked, and joined me. On my back with my legs raised, I was surprised at how gentle he was. He had a huge dick, but I felt almost no pain as he entered my seldom-used asshole and slid the full length of his big prong in and out. Finally, his movements picked up speed and his strokes shortened, until he collapsed on my chest and dumped his load into the condom. I did enjoy it, but man, he really got his kicks. More than his money's worth, I thought.
Back on the freeway, he asked, "So you hitch and hustle, do ya?"
"Nah. This is my first serious hitch. I got into hustling back home a couple of years ago, though. Didn't need the money. Did it for the thrill. Picked the wrong place and the wrong time and got busted. My dad got me off with probation 'til I was 18. I think his boss had something on the judge, maybe. I'd made just about enough to cover the court costs, and Dad was real generous. He let me pay them.
"I am hard up now, though. I spent all the money I made working last summer on an old used car, and like I said, I got Christmas shit to buy."
As I talked, the truck cruised on, and the driver's hand began to massage my tool through the well-worn fabric of my jeans. "Can I suck it?" he asked. "For another ten?"
"You can have it for free," I said.
He parked on the next ramp he came to and I opened my fly. He went down on me so fucking tenderly I completely freaked out. It was like I was being sucked for the first time. His mouth was a soft, warm dick-glove, and my willing manhood felt like it had found a long-lost home. I held out for as long as I could, and when I dropped my load, it squirted and squirted and squirted like I'd never cum before. And then he caressed my bod all over, lifting my t and nibbling my pecs and my ears and.....I just felt wonderful.
As we closed in on Mobile, I slid over and snuggled against his huge frame, rubbing him over like he'd done me. "That feels so good," he said.
I called Dad on my cell and told him where to pick me up. The trucker said, "By the way, my name's Ben."
"Son-of-a-bitch! That's my dad's name," I said. "Wait 'til he gets here. I'd like you to meet him."
"Nah," he said. "I gotta make up for lost time. But here's something to buy your dad Christmas with." He passed me another forty dollars.
Copyright 2008, 2011 by Macout Mann & Associates