Be warned that the story contains explicit sexual activity between males. So if for moral or legal reasons you shouldn't read such material, please read no further.
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Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
ANOTHER HITCHHIKING ADVENTURE
by Macout Mann
8
When I awoke, morning dew covered the woods. It was a little after seven. I put on some clothes, rolled up my sleeping bag, and returned to the Subway. It was closer than the Mickey D, and they were the only two places open for breakfast.
I was back on the ramp by eight. My brother Chuck is at work and won't be off `til after three, so I'm in no hurry to be in Mobile, but the way my rides have been, it may take eight hours to go the hundred and seventy miles from here to there.
Just as well. It was almost 9:30, when a Wal-Mart semi pulls to a stop.
"Thanks for stopping," I said. "I didn't think you guys were allowed to pick up hitchhikers."
"We aint," the driver said, "but I like to have somebody to talk to. So if I tell you to get down, I want you on the floorboards."
We talked about nothing in particular. I did ask him how long he'd been driving for Wal-Mart. He asked me what sort of luck I was having. At one point he did see another Wal-Mart truck coming from the other direction and ordered me down. The other driver probably wouldn't have seen me from the other side of the freeway anyway, but I was happy to play along.
He did volunteer that he was married, had a couple of kids in grammar school. And he reiterated that he got awfully lonely when he was on the road. I didn't know whether this was a veiled hint or not. I decided to ignore it, if it was.
After about forty minutes he left the freeway. "I've got a delivery to make at Greenville," he announced. "If you're still here when I get back, I'll pick you up again."
I thumbed for about an hour, and he hadn't returned. A pickup of uncertain age stopped. It had certainly been driven plenty of miles. The driver had been many miles down the road too. I'd guess he was 75, maybe 80. A full head of white hair. Craggy features. Wearing a canvas vest and worn 501s.
"I'm jes' goin' to Evergreen," he said, "but I can give ya some help."
"Thanks, man," I replied.
"Don't see too many young guys hitching these days," he observed. "Back in my day it was the thing to do."
"Well, it's a lot harder to get a ride nowadays, I guess," I responded.
"Yeah, back in the sixties and seventies, you could get from one coast to another in four or five days, if you set your mind to it. I hear it can take that long to get across a state now. But I've had some of the best times I've ever had on the goddamned road."
"I've had some good times," I volunteered. "I've only done serious hitching twice, but it's amazing what you can get into."
"You can say that again. I wish I wasn't so old. I lost my wife a couple of years ago. I don't have anything else to do, so I could hit the road again. But I don't want to look like these old homeless sons of bitches. That's about all you see hitching these days."
He was quiet for a minute or so. Then he added, "I never will forget the first time I got a ride with a man that gave me head."
I giggled appropriately, then said, "Sure as hell feels better than jacking off."
"You been there too, eh?"
"Show me a dude that's been on the road awhile that says he aint never let some guy suck his dick, and I'll show you a fucking liar," I responded.
"You got that right too. That's the only time I ever got together with other men, though...that is, when I was on the road. Aint no opportunities around a place like Evergreen."
"You'd be surprised," I said. "I've always known I was bi. I've been fucking around with gals and guys ever since I could cum. Having sex on the road's just one more opportunity, the way I look at it."
"Well, I can't even get it up like I used to."
"You could try Viagra."
"I'd be too freaked out even to ask the doc if he'd give me a prescription," the old man replied.
"You got lotsa memories, though?"
"Sure 'nuff. Like I said, the first time. I was hitching from Evergreen up to Nashville. I was hoping to get into the Grand Ole Opry. Up north of Birmingham this older guy picked me up. Well, I thought he was real old. He was probably forty. Was real friendly, though. Said I was good lookin'. Had nice arms. He started feeling 'em. I thought it was strange, but I didn't mind.
"Next thing I knew his hand was on my knee. `You ever had your dick sucked?' he asked.
"'Shit no,' I yelled, `I aint no queer.'
"He said, `You don't have to be queer to enjoy having you dick sucked.'
"He reached over and felt me up, and I got hard as a rock. It was before there was an interstate, so you could pull off the road almost anywhere. He did, and before I knew what was happening, he had my dick out and was goin' down on me like a fucking wild man.
"It felt good, but what felt better was that it was me in charge. Sure he had started it all, but it was my dick he had to have. I could say `no' and he would have to stop. Not that I would. I must've shot twice the cum I'd have given to a gal I was fucking."
"Well," I interjected, "Being `dom' is cool all right, but I always think sex is best when your partner is getting as much out of it as you are."
"You ever hustle?" he asked.
"I wouldn't call it hustling, exactly. But I have gotten paid for sex a few times. My brother's hustled for real. Got his ass arrested too."
"I remember hitching to the west coast and back one time," he said. "Left home with less than five dollars in my pocket. Wound up in L.A. with over three hundred. And that was back when twenty bucks was money.
"I'd get in and scratch my dick first thing. Funny how many men would react right away.
"But you gotta wonder what the road 'ud be like, if you got picked up by as many gals as gay dudes. Be so many guys hitching, you'd probably have to stand in line to find a place to thumb.
"My two trips, I've only gotten one ride from a gal."
"I've had rides from almost as many weird couples as women," he responded.
"I got involved with one couple this trip," I told him.
The forty miles from Greenville to Evergreen passed quickly, as the old man reminisced about sex on the road. We were almost at his exit, when my Wal-Mart buddy's truck passed us. Too bad. I was hoping he wouldn't get to where I was until I could connect with him again.
The old man left the freeway at Exit 96. It was noon and I was hungry. The exit was an active one, though. There were four gas stations, a pot full of fast foods and one steakhouse that was open for lunch. I figured I was almost home, so I decided to splurge. Went to the Black Angus.
Back on the ramp by one o'clock. It was still an hour before I saw a brand new Prius pull off the interstate to get gas. Then it pulled over to give me a lift. The driver was a well-dressed, middle-aged, good-looking dude. He looked awfully familiar.
"Welcome aboard." His voice was very well modulated. I was sure I'd heard it before on television.
"Thanks for stopping," I said. I climbed in, and said, "I'm sorry. I don't know who you are, but I have seen you on television, haven't I?"
He laughed and announced, "It is best that people don't recognize me." He told me who he was. Not a network anchor but one of the "A List" reporters for a major network. He was on his way to New Orleans to do a story about the aftermath of the Gulf Oil Spill. "I want to drive along the Mississippi Gulf Coast on the way to see what I can see," he said.
"Man, it's great to meet you," I drooled. "I'm a journalism student at Auburn."
He asked me my name, and we talked about my studies for a few minutes. He seemed really interested.
"I can't believe somebody like you would pick up a hitchhiker," I finally suggested.
"Probably for the same reason you're spending part of your vacation hitching," he laughed. "To find out what's happening. After all I am a reporter."
He spent the next hour telling me about his experiences. In Iraq, in Palestine, In Pakistan and Afganistan, as well as all over the United States. It was fascinating.
As we neared Mobile, I called my brother. We agreed that since my ride would be staying on I65 until he reached I10, the best place for Chuck to pick me up would be at the Lee Street exit in North Mobile. It would be thirty minutes or so before he could get there.
I thanked my new friend, who gave me his email address and told me to let him know what kind of job I got when I graduated. It never hurts to keep it touch, he said.
As I waited for Chuck to arrive at the Kangaroo Express where I was to wait for him, I thought about my adventure. One thing I had thought was that my sexual escapades two years ago were totally out of the ordinary. Turned out they weren't. Also, although I wouldn't have any qualms about hitchhiking anywhere, if that's what I needed to do, I didn't feel the need to try it again. It had been fun, but I had found out what was happening.
THE END
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