The places in this story are real, but any similarity to real persons or events is purely coincidental. If you object to explicit sexual content or are legally prohibited from reading it, please move on. Otherwise, feedback is appreciated. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
JOHN'S HITCHHIKING ADVENTURE
Part 4
by Macout Mann
It's close to three when I finally get a ride. A middle-aged couple in one of those cars GM aint making anymore. He's got premature grey hair and a bushy moustache. Wearing bib overalls and a white dress shirt. She's got her hair in a bun and is wearing a baggy blue dress.
I get in the back seat. Nobody says anything for a while. Then the dude asks me where I'm going, and I give him the standard answer. About that time I notice that his wife's not wearing makeup. And about the same time she gets into the conversaation. "So you're a college boy, are ya?" she asks derisively. "Have ya been saved?"
Funny how instinct works. My dad was probably the most irreligious sonofabitch that god ever made. But he told us about a time that somebody asked him the same question, and he said, "Yeah. Two thousand years ago."
Without thinking I told her the same thing. And god, did that piss her off!
"Don't be smart with me, you little heathen." And she went into a sermon that let me know I was totally going to hell.
"Look man," I told her husband, "I don't have to put up with this shit. You can let me out right now!"
He did wait 'til he got to the next exit before he pulled over. I jumped out. Said "Thanks."
As he started to drive away, I could still hear her. "I hope you enjoy spending eternity with Satan, college boy!"
Trouble was, I wasn't in Nashville, but I wasn't anyplace else either. Exit 188 didn't even have a gas station I could see. So I sat under the overpass and hoped somebody would stop. It was over an hour before anybody did.
A little Scion did stop, and when I opened the passenger-side door, the driver says, "Yeah, I thought that was you."
"Huh?" I say.
"I saw you this morning," he says, "at the Vandy Library. I'm one of the librarians; and I noticed you, because we don't get too many patrons carrying sleeping bags."
"Oh," I say, climbing in. "Thanks for stopping. This crazy old couple dropped me here, and I didn't think I'd ever get a ride."
"I'm just headed as far as Dickson, about fifteen miles down. But you ought to get a good ride from there."
He asked what I was doing at the library. I told him I was at Auburn; and I really needed to go online, but I didn't have a password. He said students, staff, and faculty all got passwords that world work on any computer in the university network, but for security reasons they couldn't give anybody else even a temporary password.
We covered the few miles to the Dickson exit, he wished me luck, and I thanked him again. Less than five minutes passed before a couple of good-ole-boys in a beat-up pickup pulled over. They made me sit in the middle, which was o.k. I was just glad to get a ride so soon.
They were both in their twenties, the living picture of country-boy rednecks, and both had cans of beer between their legs. I also spotted an open fifth of Four Roses on the floor board. They offered me a beer, which I gratefully acepted; and they headed down the freeway at ten to fifteen miles over the speed limit.
They were arguing about whether one of their friends was really getting into this girl they knew. Sam, the driver, said that the gal had better sense than to let him anywhere near her. Terry, his, buddy, said he believed what their friend had told them. He didn't have no reason to lie.
Terry asked me if I wouldn't believe a good buddy.
"Unless I have a good reason not to," I said, "but I know some guys that'll lie through their teeth about making out."
"It aint that," Sam said. "It's that Will's already knocked up one gal. And Mary Sue aint gonna take a chance on gettin' pregnant."
"Well, he could use a condom," I said.
They both laughed. "What's that?" they both said. Then Terry added, "Oh, you mean one of them rubber thingies. That's like going swimming in an overcoat. Might as well not fuck at all."
"She could use the pill," I said.
They laughed again. "Aint a gal we know that can afford them."
"Well," I countered, "if it's that time of the month, she can always say 'no.'"
"You don't know Will," Sam said. "It's only rape if the gals says no the first time. Once he's fucked her, he figures she's his; and whenever he's horny, she's got to spread her legs, no matter what time of the month it is. Even if she's on the rag."
Terry threw his empty out the window. Did the same for mine. And got us two more.
The conversation continued. Terry said he'd fucked Mary Sue a few times and she sure loved dick. "I can't see her turning Will down necessarily. I'll just ask her next time I see her."
Terry'd developed a big boner. "All this shit's got me horny as hell," he said. He reached down and pulled his dick out, like it was what anybody would do. "I gotta cum," he added, and started jacking like it was going outa style.
"You wanna suck it?" he asked me.
"Not me," I replied. Shit. God knows where it would lead, if I got started with these boys.
Everybody was quiet, until Terry'd sprayed the glove compartment door with cum and put his dick back in his jeans.
"Feel better?" Sam asks.
"You know that," Terry answers. "Been even better, if one of yall'd gone down on it."
"I had to drive," Sams says. "Too bad Willie wasn't along."
"Willie?" I ask.
"He's this kid we know. Not all there. He'll do anything anybody tells him to. He was out in the woods with four or five of us one time. He sucked us all off, and then a couple of guys cornholed him. And he loved it all."
The conversation turned to baseball. Sam and Terry were both Cardinals fans. I said I wasn't into baseball, but I loved college football and basketball. That I was from Mobile, and followed Auburn. That my dad used to take me and my bro to at least one game every year.
An argument followed about whether our quarterback, Cam Newton, was legal, and whether we shoulda won the championship. I never told them I went to school there or anything.
We arrived at the Bucksnort exit. (Yes, there really is a Bucksnort.) They said this was where they turned off. I got out, and Terry handed me another beer "for the road. Too bad you wouldn't suck my dick," he added. "You might've liked it."
This wasn't quite as bad as Exit 188. There was at least a gas station/general store on my side of the interstate. But it was getting late. I walked up onto the freeway to thumb. No chance at all otherwise.
Before it got completely dark, I decided to break out my sleeping bag for the first time. I found a grove of trees where I couldn't be seen from the road. Drank the beer that Terry gave me. Stripped. Climbed in the bag and listened to the night sounds. I was probably asleep inside five minutes.
The sun was up when I woke. I hadn't been attacked by fierce wild beasts or anything, but I was some hungry. I pulled on my clothes and went over to the store to get coffee and a Little Debbie. I still had most of the forty dollars I started out with, but I figured I still had at least five hundred miles to go to get to New Orleans.
I walked up to the top of the on ramp and stuck out my thumb. It was not quite eight. I was hoping another 18 wheeler would stop, but I guess they were all moving to fast to bother. So were the cars. I was almost blown off the road several times. It was a nice morning, though, sunny and not yet too hot.
After a coupla hours a black Lexus sped past and stopped about fifty yards down the freeway. He backed up some as I ran to meet him.
"I usually don't pick up hitchers," the driver said, "but you look like a good sort. I'm Jonathon Wright." He extended his hand and I shook it firmly.
"I'm John without the 'a-thon.'" I smiled. "Thanks for stopping. And yes, I guess I'm a good sort."
He laughed and we were off.
I gave him my college-student-on-an-adventure spiel. He seemed very interested that someone these days would do something like that. He didn't come right out and say it was stupid, but I think he thought so. He did say he admired me for having the guts. I told him I was doing o.k. I started out with two twenties in my pockets, and had made twenty more "doing a little work." I was hoping to make it without having to call my brother for help.
He was a consulting engineer, headed for Little Rock. They were building a factory to make wind turbine blades there and had run into some problems. He was hoping he could help them.
He reminded me of my brother Chuck's boss. He didn't seem gay, but was sophisticated as hell--urbane, I guess you'd say--could talk about anything. We crossed the Tennessee River, and he told me how bridge construction had changed over the last hundred years. We climbed the mountain up to the Natchez Trace State Park, and he told me it wasn't anywhere near the Trace; but then told me all about how the Natchez Trace began, and how the parkway that now follows the original route of the Trace from Natchez to Nashville was built. He said he was sorry he couldn't spend some time in Memphis. They had good jazz and blues there. It wasn't all Elvis and rock 'n roll. And he asked me all about school and my family and Mobile. I told him as much as I could.
We reached Jackson, where he offered to give me lunch. We ate at a real nice restaurant. And back on the road we continued to talk about everything and nothing.
It was about two when we reached Memphis. I asked him to drop me downtown; and as I was getting out of the car he said, "Great spending some time with you, John. I'm really glad I picked you up. I don't want you having to call your brother for help, so take these just in case." He passed me two twenties.
I walked into the city. Saw the bus station and checked my shit in a locker. Passed the Peabody Hotel and went in to watch the famous fountain with the ducks. Walked over to the Mississippi River. It seemed four miles wide, because of the recent floods. Came back down Beale Street. Sort of like Dauphin Street back home. I'd killed over four hours.
I found a neat hamburger joint called The Krystal and had some dinner. Then went back to the bus station. I got my stuff and was going to find a cheap motel. I'd seen a couple, while walking around.
"Hello, were you looking for me?" a deep, melodious voice said.
A guy in his thirties was standing right behind me. Good looking dude in an orchid Izod shirt and designer jeans.
"Was I?" I asked. My plans were beginning to change.
"I was sent to meet a young man looking for a place to crash," he said.
"How much?" I said
"Depends on the program," he said.
"I work on a sliding scale, open to most things, no s&m," I said.
"I'll bring my car around. Green Jaguar. Wait here. We'll talk." Then he was gone.
"I stood there for almost ten minutes. A cop I'd seen before came by and asked me what I was doing. "Waiting for my ride," I said.
He walked to the corner and turned around. A few seconds later, the green Jag slid to the curb and I got in.
"I'm Wallace," the dude volunteered.
"John," I said.
"You're hot," he continued.
"Thanks," I replied. "What all you into?"
"I like to suck and get fucked."
"Fifty bucks for all night?" I offered. I figured if he turned me down, I could still find a cheap motel.
"Deal," he said. He accepted so fast I thought maybe I shoulda asked for more.
We headed east from downtown. "Nice car," I said.
"Yeah. Makes a good impresson on my clients. I'm an interior designer."
"Oh?" I responded. "Back home in Mobile I used to work for an interior designer."
"Was it Benjamin?" he asked.
"How'd you guess?" I wondered.
"You're the kind of kid he'd go for. I've known him for years. We get together sometimes at conventions."
He turned into a huge gated community not that far from downtown. "Chickasaw Gardens is still the best address in town," he said. "I couldn't live here off what I make from the business, but my great grandfather started an aspirin company. I'm one of the bejillion heirs."
He seemed to sense that I was wondering why he was telling me so much about himself. "I don't have any secrets," he volunteered, "and I don't have to worry about what people say. They all know I'm gay and fool around. They just don't want me acting like a faggot."
We drove into the garage of a three storey masion. The door closed as we entered and the lights came on automatically.
"Home at last," Wallace said. He guided me through the kitchen into a big den that looked like a fucking movie set. "I'm having a martini," he said. "I've got almost anything else, if you're not up for that."
"My brother and his boss are into martinis," I replied. "I'll try one. Maybe switch, if I can't handle it."
He disappeared for several minutes and then returned with our drinks and a plate of cheese and crackers.
I had tasted one of Chuck's martinis, so I knew what to expect. The blue cheese was the best I'd ever had, though, and I said so. "It's Roquefort," Wallace said. "Comes from France.
"So your brother likes martinis, does he?" he continued. "What sort of work does he do?"
"Works for a big landscaping outfit."
"In Mobile? Landcare, eh?"
"How'd you know?"
"Hell, it's a big outfit. They've even done work here. And I did the design work for a casino in Tunica a few years ago. They did the landscaping."
"Oh, yes. I remember. My dad was in charge of that job."
"Small world, isn't it?"
Wallace sipped his martini in silence, then asked, "So, why aren't you working for Landcare instead of out hustling?"
"Well, Chuck didn't want to go to college, and I did. I'm a sophomore at Auburn."
"And you're helping pay your tuition by selling your dick?"
"You might say that. Yeah."
He laughed and said, "And your brother Chuck is fucking Steven too?"
He read my expression and continued. "Yeah, I've known him for years. Rich queers gotta stick together.....in more ways than one."
Changing the subject, he said that he had frozen pizza for dinner. I told him I ate at The Krystal and wasn't real hungry. The cheese and crackers would be fine. "Suit yourself," he answered. "I'm goanna be eating something else in a few minutes anyway."
He went to get us another drink and then said "Time you earned your keep."
He led the way up to his bedroom, pulled my t shirt over my head, and said "You're in damned good shape for a college boy. May I kiss you?"
"Anyplace but on the mouth."
"Oh?"
"The mouth is for gals."
"So you're bi, then?"
"All the guys in our family are bi. For at least three generations."
"Now isn't that interesting?"
He pulled me to himself and burried his tongue in my ear, whispering "This isn't your mouth." At the same time he felt my dick for the first time through the thin fabric of my well-worn jeans. "Goddam. I'm goanna love that thing."
I grasped his back and could tell he spent as much time at the gym as at the office. He broke our embrace and stripped off his shirt. Man, he had one beautiful torso. I couldn't help but reach for it, cup his pecs and finger his abs. Meanwhile, he undid my jeans, revealing everything I had to offer him. "Oh, yes," he cried.
In a few seconds we were both naked and stretched out on his custom made bed. "You've got a nice tan," he said. "Too bad it stops at your belt line."
"You have too," I replied. "Nice that it don't stop anywhere."
I'd said he could kiss me anywhere else, and he did. I did the same to him. He relished my attention, and he had every inch of my bod tingling, before his lips engulfed me, and set me on the way to the first of I-don't-know-how-many orgasms I'd have before the night was over.
We stopped and sipped our martinis, and then he broke out some special kind of condoms and some super lube I'd never seen before. Then I went back to work.
He told me I gave him the best fucking he'd ever had. I said I bet he said that to all his boys. But I could tell he was having a real good time. I loved caressing every inch of his great bod. And although it wasn't part of our deal, I even gave him a blow job. We screwed around 'til way after midnight and finally went to sleep in each other's arms.
When morning came, he asked if he could taste me one more time. He sucked me for over half an hour before I shot off. Then he made breakfast of orange juice, unbelievable waffles with blueberry syrup, and some special kind of coffee. He let me use his washer and dryer to do my clothes, while we lounged around his pool and he tried to get my limp dick hard again. And to top it off he handed me a crisp new hundred dollar bill.
He dropped me back at the bus station, shook my hand, and said, "John, it was great, worth every penny, and I'd love to do it all over again." And just before he drove away, he added, "And say 'hello' to Benjamin and Steven for me!"
Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann