Date: Mon, 22 Jan 2018 11:44:25 -0500 From: 86tigers <86tigers@protonmail.com> Subject: The Hitchhiker Archetype III Attention nifty readers! I hope you like what I've been producing so far. I apologize that this story had almost a year-long hiatus, but it's back now, and going strong. In addition to this, excellent news! I've started a small publishing company called Perv Publications; high quality M/M erotica just like you've been reading, at rockbottom prices :D The current series I'm producing is called "Call Them By Their Names" and comes on the heels of the recent success of the film/book Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman. Once I had seen it, I knew I needed to dive back into writing stories about gorgeous boys in Europe throughout the past century. Head over to my author page, check out the sexy cover art, and think about maybe giving V.C. a chance! https://www.amazon.com/V.C.-Vermillion/e/B0796HTJ1Y/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_5?qid=1516639173&sr=8-5 Thanks a million, and hope you keep reading, V.C. Vermillion The Hitchhiker IV The man folded up his boy, and made him drink a good liter of water from a bottle. He threw a blanket over them, and made sure the A/C was blasting as cool as it could get--he would not miss these infernal L.A. temperatures. Sam lay on his thick bicep. One of Miguel's hands rubbed the small of his back, the other combed through his long, bee-black hair. He kissed the boy's forehead and cooed little things to him in Spanish. Pobre chico. Mi gordito. Mi pocito patito. "You just call me your little duck?" Sam asked. "Yeah, so? When you pout you look like a little duck." Sam fake punched him in the stomach and laughed. Then the boy looked very solemn, and a little distracted. "What's wrong?" "I'm worried," Sam said. "I don't know what the fuck we're doing." "Neither to I," Miguel said. "And getting to Chile in a fucking car is the stupidest idea anybody in my family has ever had. Nobody in my family can believe I'm trying to do it alone--at the least, they think I should have, like, ten of my male cousins on the trip with me. It's like medieval times to them, they think we need to travel in posses." Sam laughed. "Well you're not alone, now." "No sir," Miguel said, kissed the boy and then sucked a moment at his bottom lip. They broke away grinning like fools. "I think the best plan is for you to come as my son," he said. "What?" "You call me Papi from now on, ok?" Miguel said, giggling as he said it so that the boy was unsure whether it was a joke. "Serious though?" Sam asked, smiling, a rosy color coming to his cheeks. "I do think it'd be a good idea," Miguel said. "I mean with strangers." "But you'd have been like...15 when I was born," the boy said. "Exactly." The boy's eyes sparkled. "I wanna be your baby boy," said Sam. His smile flashed like twin bands of pearls, and the Chilean thought he might die. "I wanna be your daddy. Your Papito."Miguel took a deep breath, and kissed Sam one more time on the nose before beginning. They lay there breathing softly and holding one another, and listening to the drun-drun of the air conditioner. A quick light-up from Miguels phone: 8:00 PM "It's stupid early, baby boy." "Yeah?" "But we have to leave tomorrow, early. We're getting up at seven. It's my last day in the apartment, so no matter what we have to peace." Not a thing remained to do. No homework, no jobs, no living relatives nearby, no rent to be paid, no debts to settle, no groceries to buy, no gastank to fill, no farewells to make, no grain of dust to be swept from the old domicile. The curtains were drawn and doors all locked, even the lawn was mowed. Sam's clothes and every other possessions fit in one duffel. Miguel's shit took up the rest of the car: records, books, even some potted plants crammed in amid the bags and boxes. El Rey, to their great sadness, would live with the future tenants. With Sam sitting copilot, they shot through L.A. before dawn. By the time they crossed the Arizona desert, it was around 7:00 am and the big dipper was disappearing into the Western horizon. On top coffee, Miguel smoked a spliff before the sun even rose, the sweet smoking pluming just a moment before being sucked out the open windows of the car. The desert was always best at dusk and dawn; all the colors of the spectrum flourished under the twilight, so that the rainbow of the southwest shone more vivid than ever. They saw the purple spray of manganese rock or the iron oxide bleeding red from the sandstone cairns; they saw the yellow ochre layered into the mesas or the white crust of plain old salt peaking, like merengues, on the tips of the hills. Junipers cast long shadows in the early morning light, and their hair blew wildly in their faces as they sped down state roads, passed shuddering trucks and whoosed under tunnels toward Tucson. They stopped around eight and grabbed a giant coffee to share, an orange juice, and two gross gas station burritos for breakfast. Miguel's car, a 1984 Toyota corolla, had Tiger's snout peeking out the back window when they returned. Sam let him pee by the wasted sage brush behind the gas station and they pulled onto the highway again. They were in a remote stretch of road in a canyon going upward. Clouds had begun to gather, and the sky was dark. They passed a few cows, and began to climb into a mountain range. After a while, they hadn't passed anybody, and entered a valley where they could see for at least a mile. They crested a hill, and found another empty valley. "Open the glove compartment, babe," Miguel said. Sam popped the button and the revealed the bursting mess of papers, lighters, batteries and trash inside. There was a little light the size of a marble, its element glowing furiously against the full daylight. "What am I looking for?" "There's a cigarette case in there." "A pack of cigarettes?" "No, a metal case. Like in old movies. You'll find it." Sam dug around until his hands felt something cold and smooth. He removed a gold tinted box. "That's it. Pop it open." Inside were maybe ten joints rolled with perfect expertise. "Where do you get all this weed?" Sam asked. "For being a smart kid, you sure don't ask a lot of questions," Miguel said. "I'm a dealer." Sam's eyebrows raised. Of course. "Oh," he said. "Will you light one of those and pass it over?" They were about halfway through the joint, driving a little slower than usual on the curvy mountain road, when Miguel asked a question. "You ever hear of road head?" Sam swallowed. He was holding the joint with pinched fingers, and Miguel waved his hand at the last inch of it. "Yeah," Sam said with a grin. "I have." Miguel said nothing more. There was nobody on the road for miles. Sam swallowed in excitement and reached across the narrow expanse to Miguel's inner thigh. He was wearing very short cutoffs with a thick frill of destroyed thread along the edge. Miguel's bare thighs were girthy and long, clefting when they met the man's kneecap, and Sam felt deep, heavy feelings of thirst as he stroked the taut limb and joint, and passed his hand up the smooth inner thigh to grasp that whole thick muscle. "Oh yeah," Miguel whispered, drawing a cigarette from his ear, "hand me that lighter?" The wind whipped his hair as Sam dug his fingers into the man's crotch to free the swiftly stiffening cock from its upward trajectory. Miguel shifted in the seat, thrusting his pelvis forward so that Sam could ease his member out of his shorts along the side of his inner thigh. The pale, smooth spear thrust down the side of Miguel's leg, its light pink head already peeking beyond the foreskin. Sam shifted over so that he was sitting partly on the center console and leaning the weight of his upper body on his left arm, his elbow wedged between Miguel's legs. His long hair hung in his face and tickled the man's skin; Miguel sighed in contentment as Sam's tongue wet his whole cock head and flicked the base of his cock. He tapped his cigarette out the window and gyrated a little in the seat to further enjoy the moist mouth servicing him. Signs shot past and Miguel noted it was 140 miles to Tucson as he tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed his cock in the succulent mouth of his lover. Sam moaned and grunted from both effort and ecstacy as he tasted that salty, fleshy cock once again. His tongue slid under the foreskin and he bobbed his head back and forth, knocking against the steering wheel a couple of times before Miguel shifted the seat back a few inches. "Nothing feels better," Miguel said, "I have no idea why, but it's like ten times better than normal head." Sam lifted his head up to kiss the side of Miguel's mouth. To jerk his foreskin back and forth and nibble his ear. "There's a car," Miguel said softly. Sam sank back into his seat as a minivan came up from behind and then passed them. Sam quickly shifted back over and rested his head on Miguel's thigh for a moment before guiding the thick rod back up to his awaiting mouth. "Just jerk it and suck the head, and I'll come soon," Miguel said. Sam nodded and pulled the man's balls from the tight confines of his daisy-dukes, kneading them with one hand as he jacked the pole with the other, keeping his mouth on the head as he sucked and slurped up and down. Miguel grunted and gyrated his hips upward to meet the boy's perfect suction on his head. His foot went heavy on the gas pedal and he gave up a loud groan that turned into shout of ecstacy. His penis throbbed as it spurted come into Sam's mouth and onto his lips when he accidentally lost contact for a moment. Sucking the rest of the spasm away, dutifully milking the shaft up onto his tongue, the boy moaned in fully aroused excitement, swallowing the thick come and licking it off his reddened lips. "Ohhhh," Miguel moaned. He put his hand around the back of Sam's neck and brought him up for a quick peck on the side of the mouth. "I love your skin," Miguel said raggedly, taking a big gulp of hot coffee. He reached over to stroke the side of Sam's face with the backs of his fingers. Sam smiled and blushed and stroked Miguel's bare chest and belly the same way. "You wanna try road head?" Miguel asked. "Don't we need to switch spots?" Sam asked. "Well. Yeah, I guess if you wanna be lame." Miguel said. At first confused, the boy grinned, realizing it was a joke. "You jackass," Sam whispered, shaking his head.