Date: Sat, 15 Feb 2014 07:36:06 -0800 (PST) From: Macout Mann Subject: Another Hitchhiking Adventure 5 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. I look forward to your reactions to the story. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. Also, please remember that these stories are made possible by your contributions to nifty.org. Please donate, and be as generous as you can. MM Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. ANOTHER HITCHHIKING ADVENTURE by Macout Mann 5 It was about 9:30 when a Ford pickup pulling a trailer holding a small tractor stopped for me. The driver was about 45, already greying, with weathered skin from many days working in the Carolina sun. He was wearing bib overalls and a long-sleeved shirt that used to be red but had faded to a pale pink from many washings. I threw my shit in the bed of the truck and hopped in. "Where you headed, boy?" "To Atlanta right now, then down to Mobile," I answered. "You aint lookin' for work then?" "No sir, I've got a job in Mobile starting in a couple of weeks." "Too bad. I need a coupla hands for a few weeks on my farm. Always thought my boys would be around to help me. But the oldest decided he don't like farm work. Likes tinkering with motors. Works at a garage in Orangeburg. My other boy got involved with drugs and is serving three years in prison `cause of it." "Sorry to hear about that," I said. "Where are you headed?" "Up around Orangeburg. My place is about twenty miles from there." Orangeburg was the biggest town between Charleston and Columbia. It was about seventy miles up the interstate. He finally introduced himself and asked about me. I gave him the usual spiel. We spent the next hour talking about his farm and how disappointed he was with his sons. His wife had died several years earlier. His family had owned the farm for centuries, and now there was no one to carry on the tradition. It would probably be bought by some agribusiness corporation. I really felt sorry for the guy. We parted at US Highway 301 outside of Orangeburg. It wasn't a bad exit. A Loves and some other gas stations plus a couple of fast foods. That is if you can count Waffle House as fast food. I still waited about forty-five minutes for my next ride. I had noticed him pull off the interstate to get gas. Kid about my age driving a red Corvette Stingray. I was hoping he'd stop—well I hope everybody stops—and he did. "Hey dude. Where you headed?" he asked. I told him and he said to get in. He was going to Columbia for a summer session at the university. "Fucking around when I shoulda been studying, so now I gotta go back to school when I oughta be fucking around." He spoke in that characteristic southern upper-class accent that sounds like it's being filtered through honey. He was deeply tanned with brown hair and hazel eyes, a pointy nose, and a perpetual five o'clock shadow, wearing jeans and a v-neck t. We discussed our respective schools and our majors. He was pre-law. Dad was an attorney in Charleston. He would be the third generation to join the firm, if he could ever get a degree and pass the bar. "So how's the pussy down at Auburn?" he asked. "Same as most places, I 'spect. Some gals will and some won't. I was lucky. When I was a freshman I started dating one that would put out, and we still get together. But I also have a gay roommate." "Gross!" he almost shouted. "Can't you get rid of him?" "It aint so bad," I assured him. "He aint a limp-wristed fairy. Pretty nice dude, actually." I let the subject drop. He told me all about fucking around with this gal that caused him to flunk PoliSci and have to go to summer school. "I guess it was worth it," he said. "She was one hot bitch." We reached the University of South Carolina exit and he dropped me off. It was still several miles to I20. I figured it was time for something to eat and there was another Waffle House nearby. When I returned to the ramp, it was only about a half hour before a late model Honda Civic stopped. The driver was probably about 55, dressed in dress pants and a shirt and tie. "Thanks for stopping, sir," I said. "The Lord told me I should," he replied. "I'm John." "Malcolm Gibson. Good to meet you, John. Where are you going?" I told him, "Atlanta, then Mobile." "If I could, I would give you a bus ticket, but I'm a little short of funds right now." "Thanks anyway, sir, but I really prefer to hitch." "You must have great faith that the Lord will protect you from those who would do you harm." "Actually I think a bus rolling over is about as likely to kill me as me being done in by somebody that gives me a ride. Besides, I think God—if he exists—has more to do than worry about whether I'm stupid enough to get in a car with a bunch of redneck drunks or step in front of a speeding car." "So you're not a believer, then," he responded. "That's why the Lord told me to give you a ride." "Oh, I fancy myself a Christian...I guess. But you must've been to college." "Why yes. I'm a graduate of Bob Jones." "And you took a science course or two? Surely you don't believe the world was created in seven days." "That's what the Bible says," he affirmed. "Besides Evolution is only a theory." "Yes, like the Theory of Gravity." By now we had reached I20. As always I left the front door open while I retrieved my shit. "God bless you, John," he said, even remembering my name. "Thank you for the ride, sir," I responded. "And may the Lord have mercy on your soul," he finished. I wasn't in the best mood. He reminded me of the religious couple that had picked me up the last time I'd hitched. But at least he was polite. My next ride was totally different, and it came along almost immediately. A Ram pickup driven by a middle-aged dude with a teen-aged boy on the passenger side. Both were wearing t shirts and jeans. The kid slid over, and I threw my shit in the back and climbed in. The driver introduced himself as Clint and his son as Rob. I told them I was John and was on my way to Atlanta. They were headed home to Augusta. We were hardly up to speed when the last thing I could ever have expected happened. I felt Rob's hand embrace my dick. I was so surprised that I didn't react one way or the other. "Damn, John's really got a big one, Dad," Rob announced. "And it's getting hard too." "Really," his dad rejoined. I felt Rob unzip me. "Look," he said. "It is nice," Clint agreed. "Can I suck it?" My mind finally engaged. Here I was with an underage kid playing with my dick with his father looking at us. "Whoa!" I commanded. "Don't worry," his father said. "He loves to suck, and I sure don't give a shit, if you're o. k. with it." Rob slipped down on the floorboard between my legs, unbuckled me and opened my fly. Almost before I could say anything he had my tool in his mouth. I was ready. "I see you loved to get sucked too," Clint observed as he continued to speed down the interstate. "Yes, sir," I moaned. "Doesn't everybody? I added. "I sure the fuck do," he responded. After a pause he continued, "Rob's been sucking since he was twelve. Likes to get fucked too." "Do you...?" I couldn't resist asking. "Nah, not him," his dad anticipated what I was asking. "But we both have lots of friends. Sort of a father and son club." "Interesting," I whimpered. I was getting close. I was also close to telling about my own experiences, but decided not to. My dick erupted. A huge torrent of sperm. Going down the road in full view of truckers or anybody who could see Rob's head bobbing up and down had got me so fucking excited I spurt like it was my first time. And here the kid's dad was carrying on a conversation like what was happening was an everyday event. Maybe it was. Rob got back up on the seat, but didn't let me close my fly. He continued to play with my softened tool, as conversation turned to more "normal" topics. I learned that Clint owned an upholstery business in Augusta. That Rob would be a junior in high school in the fall, and that he was a tennis player. That his dad and mom had divorced as a result of her finding someone else she wanted to be married to. Clint had gotten full custody. About three o'clock, as we were nearing Augusta, Clint reintroduced sex to the conversation. Then said he had a friend he like me to meet. That could only mean one thing. He suggested that I stay over in Augusta and he would bring me back to the freeway in the morning. "Could we drive by Augusta National?" I asked. "My brother and his boss have been to the Masters' a couple of times, and I've always wanted to see what the place looked like." "Sure," he said, "but you can't see a hellova lot from the road." We did take the Washington Road exit and drove by the front of the club, then backtracked and drove down the edge of the course. He was right. It was apparent that the place was absolutely spectacular, but you couldn't make out a lot of detail. I was satisfied, though. We wound up in a working class neighborhood. Clint and Rob lived in a one story cottage that was comfortable enough for two guys. Clint passed me a beer and then called up a couple of his buddies, saying that he was putting up a hot college stud and they should come over and have some fun. Exactly what I'd bargained for. Since I'd spent the previous night sleeping on the ground, I took advantage of the opportunity to take a nap before dinner. We went to a neighborhood pizzeria. It was about seven-thirty when we got back to the house. Soon Clint's guests showed up. First to arrive was Wayne and his son, Jerry. Wayne was a bit younger than Clint, well built with long black hair and black eyes, a square jaw, and a perpetual sexy expression. Jerry was a carbon copy, 17 years old. I learned that he was on his way to Georgia Tech. Rob, who was already naked, obviously had a crush on Jerry. He was all over him from the minute he and his father arrived. Next came Alex and his son, Kelly. They were both what you'd call "good ole Southern boys." They had thick accents and dark complexions. Alex was medium height, and his fourteen-year-old son hadn't really had a growth spurt yet. They were both as good looking as the rest of the crew, however. Clint passed around beer for everybody, even Kelly. Everybody seemed glad to meet me, and there was much gawking at my crotch, as we got to know each other. "John's got a dick to die for guys," Clint announced. "Let's watch him fuck one of the young guys. Jerry, Kelly, yall roll the dice to see who it'll be." He tossed a pair of dice to Jerry, who rolled a nine. Kelly said that would be hard to beat but he'd try. He rolled a pair of sixes. Jerry had already stripped, but Kelly then also got naked. No big thing for either of them, since they each had only a shirt and shorts to take off. "Can I undress you, John?" Kelly asked. He didn't wait for an answer. In ten seconds I was bareassed with my dick standing at attention. Kelly sank to his knees and took my hard-on into his mouth. He'd obviously been giving head for some time. Meanwhile, Clint applied lube to his asshole and handed me a condom. When Kelly felt he'd gotten me up enough, he took the condom from my hand and rolled it onto my prong, slobbered on it and assumed the position. I leaned over and pinched his nipples and grabbed his dick, but even that was more foreplay that was expected, it seemed. "Fuck him!" Rob cried. I rammed my pole all the way in. He didn't even squeak. As I slid back and forth in his well-used ass, he moaned "yes, yes" on each stroke. The three men watching also cried out enthusiastically as they began to shed their clothes as well. Jerry and Rob were on the floor staring from inches away. When I dropped my load and pulled out of Kelly, Jerry declared that he got to eat my cum; and he pulled the condom off my dick and poured the contents into his mouth. Evidently the rules of these encounters were well established. "Will you suck my dad now, John," Kelly asked. "Why not?" I responded. Alex materialized right next to me on the floor, his rigid stick inches from my mouth. "Yeah, eat the motherfucker," a chorus of voices urged. As I took Alex into my mouth, I saw that Jerry was sucking Kelly and Rob was eating Jerry. Clint and Wayne must have been into something. It turned out that they were rolling the dice to see who was going to participate next. As soon as Alex had dumped his essence down my throat, he announced that he and Kelly had to take off. "I told the wife we were going to the gym to work out," he said, "so we can't be gone too long." I told them it was good meeting them and they took their leave. Wayne then told me that he had won the right to have me next and asked what I would like to do, adding that he'd really like to feel my dick. I told him that I'd fuck him if he wanted me to, but I really most liked to be sucked. He immediately went down on me; and as he gave me head, Rob stooped down behind him and began to finger fuck the older man. It was like that was a rule. And as if on cue, Clint went down on Jerry. Like the looser had to do the winner's son. Man, I wasn't a stranger to group sex, but this still seemed strange as hell. After I had given a respectable gift to Wayne, that left Jerry and Clint that I hadn't had sex with. I had assumed that I'd be sleeping with Clint. Maybe Rob too. But right now it was break time. Everybody sat back with their beers and chatted about how great the sex was. I decided that I might as well tell them about my family, that at least three generations of us males were bi and completely open with each other. Wayne said that his wife knew him and Jerry messed around with guys, but she didn't want to know more than that. About that time Jerry suggested that he and Rob roll the dice. "You go ahead," Rob said. "I sucked him off this afternoon." "Will you fuck me, John?" Jerry asked. "If that's what you want," I replied. He slipped another condom on my dick and rubbed lube on it and on his ass. "On your back," I said. None of the group required careful entry. All their asses were well used. I settled into a steady rhythm, prepared for the long haul. I had already cum twice, three times counting this afternoon, so I knew I could make it last as long as I wanted. And Jerry was one hot fucker. I wanted him to be completely satisfied. Meanwhile, Wayne had recovered enough to take on Rob's ass, while Clint watched the four of us appreciatively. It turned out that I had more stamina than Wayne, and I had the feeling that he was ready to go home. So I increased my thrusts and made my deposit into Jerry's colon. "Oh god, that was so great," he moaned. Wayne and Jerry dressed and left me alone with Clint and Rob. "Let's have another beer," Rob suggested. "Why not?" I responded. For some reason I didn't seem tired at all. The three of us were still naked as we sipped our beers. "Are you going to fuck John, Daddy?" Rob asked. "If he'll let me after we go to bed," his father answered. "Seems like you came out on the short end," I laughed. "It'd be a nice end to an exciting day." Rob had his own room with a double bed and a desk and computer for school work, even a tv of his own; but when we were ready for bed, he followed Clint and me into Clint's room, where there was a king sized bed and very little else. Made me wonder if they didn't get together when no one else was around. I wound up in the middle with one of them on either side. I lay on my right side facing Rob. I felt Clint's well lubed finger preparing my ass, then his long tool penetrated me, while Rob stroked my chest, pinched my nipples, and fondled my balls. As I finally succumbed to exhaustion, I realized that Rob was now under the sheet with my dick once again in his mouth. I was being spit-roasted. I awoke refreshed. It was about eight in the morning, and it was Saturday. Clint was no longer in the bed, but Rob's hand was embracing my dick. "Good morning," he said. "You want to take a shower?" "I'd better. People don't like to pick up hitchhikers that smell like stale sex," I replied. "I wish you'd stay another night." "I'd better be going. My granddad in Atlanta is expecting me." I hit the shower and reveled in the flow of hot water over my hard bod. I could have stayed there all day, but Clint stuck his head in to say that breakfast was about ready. I dried off and before I could dress was called to the table. Rob was still naked, so I didn't feel out of place as we sat down to orange juice, pancakes with cane syrup, bacon, and coffee. Clint said that he had to go in to the shop, so he needed to drop me as soon as we finished breakfast. Once in his pickup, I couldn't resist asking him how he and Rob got started. "I was always bi," he answered. "Once I got married, I stayed faithful to Marie. Mostly, that is. But after she left me, I didn't see any reason not to mess around. That included having the occasional overnight guest. We'd tell Rob that my friend was too tired or too drunk to go home. "Well, one night Rob woke up, went to take a piss, then heard noises from my room. He came in to find us sixty-nining. He wanted to know what was going on, so I told him. He said wanted to suck a dick to see what it was like. I told him he couldn't suck me, but if—I don't even remember who the other guy was—if my buddy would let him, he could suck the other guy off. And he did. "After that, one thing led to another." We had returned to the Washington Road exit. I thanked Clint for his hospitality and we warmly shook hands. It had been a very interesting eighteen hours or so.