This story is adult fiction with explicit homosexual activity. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to to help keep this service free and available to all.

I have written several hitchhiking stories for, all from the point of view of the hitcher. This short tale is from the perspective of the driver. Hope you enjoy.

Comments and criticisms are encouraged. Please write me at

Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events, some real people, and some real places may be invoked to add reality.


by Macout Mann

I was on my way from Nashville to Oklahoma City. Business trip. Interstate 40 all the way. Could have flown, but I like to take it easy. Also driving lets me be away from the wife longer.

I had spent the night in Memphis; and after eating the hotel's complementary breakfast, I was back on the road by eight-thirty. Traffic was fairly heavy, but even after stopping for a fill-up I was cruising through North Little Rock by eleven.

Although it was summer, I had seen not one hitchhiker on the entire trip until I reached North Little Rock's Burns Park exit, about the last place a hiker would normally be looking for a ride. A huge forested park with not so much as a convenience store anywhere around. He was perched on the wall underneath the overpass.

I don't usually pick up hitchhikers these days. They're mostly ninety-year-old bewhiskered drifters or dudes thumbing from one truck stop to the next, flying signs or looking to earn a few bucks polishing truck wheels. Making enough to keep them in beer. This one seemed so desolate, however, that I braked to a stop. He looked to be only eighteen or nineteen. Was dressed in a faded blue chambray shirt with the sleeves cut out, unbuttoned almost to his navel, along with torn, battered, beltless blue jeans. And he had a two or three-day growth of beard.

Scruffy as he was, I could tell that cleaned up he would be strikingly handsome. He had regular chiseled features, blue eyes, and auburn hair. He was almost six feet tall and had a neat build with a nice bulge below the waistline.

I don't look bad myself. Although long past thirty, I had been a champion swimmer in school and have taken care of myself. I still have a swimmer's bod and don't have a problem picking up gals or guys. Right now I was wearing a trim-fitting golf shirt that nicely showed off my biceps and pecs and a pair of denim shorts that clung to my well-tanned thighs.

My passenger grabbed his small duffle and a sleeping bag and loped to my car. He threw his "shit" in the back seat and climbed in front. "Thanks for stopping, mister. I didn't think I'd ever get a damn ride."

"Well, this sure isn't what you'd call `a good exit.'"

"Nah. But the dude that brought me over here from West Memphis was only going to a bypass up a ways, and he said I could camp out in one of the park pavilions and get to use the johns, so I decided to do that. It turned out good, `cause I got to take a sponge bath, so I aint so smelly this morning. And there was also some folks having a party. After they left, I got to have a good dinner eating their leftovers."

"Brent's my name," I said, extending my hand.

"Perry," he responded.

"Good to meet you," I said. "Where ya headed, Perry?"

"California," he answered. "Or wherever you can take me."

"Well I can get you to Okie City," I told him. "You from the West Coast?"

"Nah. I'm originally from Concord, little town outside Paducah, Kentucky. Farm boy. But I've just been wandering around for the last couple of years. I guess you'd call me a stray."

"So have you been having good luck getting rides?"

"It's not like they say it used to be. I've had older dudes tell me you could once hitch from one side of the country to the other in a week or less. It sure the fuck aint like that anymore. Now it takes longer than that to get across a state sometimes. But like you can still have fun on the road. You can run into some wild, partyin' motherfuckers out here.

"I'm sure," I responded. "I used to do a little hitching up and down the East Coast. Ran into some damned good people. Got picked up by some weirdos too."

"Been there. Done that. But, you know, shit, I'm still alive and kicking." he laughed.

Interesting. From the hitchers I'd picked up I'd found that some never used obscene language, at least not until the driver did. Others said whatever from the minute they got in the car. When I'd hitched, I'd always tried to be careful not to offend. This kid obviously didn't give a damn. Not that I minded.

I changed the subject. He was a Cardinals fan. He followed SEC football and basketball. He wasn't into pro sports. As we chatted, I noticed that he'd occasionally, apparently absentmindedly, fondle his dick. I'd wait a while and do the same.

We reached Russellville, a college town about halfway to the Oklahoma border. It had a pretty good restaurant adjacent to the Interstate.

"Lunchtime," I said. "You're probably pretty hungry too."

"I aint got no money for food," he admitted.

"Well, if you don't order everything on the menu, I can handle the check."

We both had a cheeseburger topped with jalapenos and a Coke. He ordered fries. I had onion rings.

Back on the road, we passed a parked state police cruiser. I turned the conversation back to hitching.

"You get checked out by the cops a lot?" I asked.

"Depends on where you are and whether they have anything else to do. I never mind getting checked out. That makes the road safer for everybody. I don't jump freights. Fuck, ninety percent of guys you run into on trains have felony warrants out on `em. But it really pisses me when cops just want to hassle the hell out of you. Shit, sometimes I think half of `em would be in the joint themselves, if they didn't have that fucking badge to hide behind.

"I'll never forget one I got into it with," he continued. "I was down in Texas. Some little town about fifty miles west of Dallas. It was getting dark. I was about to hang it up, when this sonofabitch stops and checks me out. I'm clean. Then he goes through all my shit and don't find nothing. Then he says `How much money you got?'

"I say, `I might have five bucks on me, if I look real hard.'

"`Well that aint enough to pay the fine for hitchhiking and I'm goanna have to take you in,' he says.

"I say, `So do your duty. At least you got to feed me.'

"He says, "Well I'll let you go, if you let me suck your dick.' Fucking cop said that!

"Man that pissed the hell out of me. `I might have, if you'd asked me nicely,' I told him, `but you go on and take me in, and when I go up before the judge I'm goanna tell him exactly what you said, and he aint goanna believe me, but you keep pulling this shit and some other dudes will do the same thing, and finally the judge'll have your ass in a sling.'

"I aint no angel, but I aint no cop either."

I couldn't help but laugh. "So he let you go?" I asked.

"Yeah. But I was sort of sorry he did. I'd love to have seen the look on the judge's face, when I told him."

"Well I never had anything like that happen, but you do run into a lot of faggots when you're hitching." This time I clutched my dick a little more obviously."

"You never can tell," he replied. "I was down in Texas another time. Got picked up by this traveling salesman. We hit it off pretty good and he said that he had to be out for another ten days, that he got awful lonely, and that if I'd keep him company he'd take care of all the bills. I said, `why not?'

"I was sure the motherfucker was gay, but it turned out he was straight as hell, just didn't like being alone. Had a wallet full of pictures of his wife and kids. Never made any kind of pass at me. I was sort of disappointed."

Again I had to laugh. Obviously he had played around. The next thing he said confirmed it big time.

"Don't take me wrong. But you get on the road. You do what you do. Shit, show me a guy that's been hitching for six months that says he aint let some sonofabitch suck his dick, and I'll show you a fucking liar. I've done it. We all have. Some of us just won't admit it. Feels a hell of a lot better than jacking off."

"I'm not offended," I responded. "You like to suck?"


"So you get started when you hit the road?"

"Fuck no. Every little burg has shit going on. Don't matter how small it is. I'm the youngest of three brothers. We all fucked around. And our old man fucked all three of us.

"Sex was why I hit the road in the first place."

"Oh?" I was really taken aback.

"Don't get me wrong," he hastened to say. "I didn't feel abused by Dad or my brothers or anything. What we had going was great. And we'd have parties with Dad's friends sometimes. But this one guy decided he would have my ass whenever he had a mind to, and Dad didn't have the guts to tell him to lay off. So I just split.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this shit;" he went on, "but I got good vibes about you from when I first got in the car." He rested his palm on my thigh. "And I wasn't wrong, was I? You're a real cool dude."

"No. You weren't wrong."

His hand wandered over to my now hardening dick. "Maybe we can find a place," he said.

Interstate 40 through Arkansas mainly goes through the river valley between the Ouachita and Ozark mountains, but in the western part of the state it does climb into the Ozark foothills from time to time. I saw a pull-off marked "Scenic Overlook" and drove in. It turned out to be an isolated area with tree-shaded parking places that offered spectacular views of the mountains to the north. I parked as far from the highway as possible, so we were not likely to be surprised by an oncoming vehicle.

He opened my fly. "So you're freeballing too. Neat."

"I do, unless I'm wearing a suit," I said.

"You got a nice dick. Long and straight. Sort of like my brother, Tim's."

He fondled my junk. I rubbed up his still half-bare chest. He wasn't a muscle bound hunk, but he had respectably defined pecs and abs. He felt good.

I finished unbuttoning his shirt and began to nibble his nips and tongue his deep navel. I didn't have to urge him to go down on me. He took to my shaft like it was a popsicle, tenderly babying it with his lips. Easily I could believe he'd been sucking dick since before he could cum.

"God, you're good," I moaned.

He gently fingered my balls, as he sucked. I slipped my hand underneath his beltline and began to finger his ass crack. He moaned too.

"I've got to taste you," I said.

He raised up and I undid his jeans. He had about seven inches surrounded by auburn colored pubes. Reminding him to keep watch for cars, I took him in one gulp, scratching my nose in his untrimmed hairs. He may have taken a sponge bath last night, but he must not have washed his dick. It was delicious. I sucked voraciously until he said he wanted more of me.

We alternated sucking and being sucked, until I finally cried out that I needed to cum. He tongued the tip of my rod as he rapidly slid up and down. I exploded into his throat. Then as soon as I had finished dropping my load, I went back down on him and brought him to climax. I drank every drop of his hot, young semen and said, "Man, that was something."

"Fuck yes!" he replied.

We sat for another ten minutes fondling each other's dong before I finally resumed our trip.

Neither of us spoke for several miles.

"I wish you could fuck me," he finally said.

"Too risky on the side of the road," I responded. "At this hour, too many people at the rest stops."

We slipped out of Arkansas and into Oklahoma.

"You obviously really get off on sex," I ventured. "Yet you told me you left home because of sex."

"It was because of Donald," he said. "I think Dad owed him some money or something. Anyway, he felt like he could come up anytime and tell me to strip off and lean over.

"When we got together back there, you and me were both hot to go. Donald didn't give a shit about anything but himself. And it didn't make a fucking bit of difference to him if my mom was around or not."

"Your mom knew what was going on?"

"Yeah. Dad always said Mom always knew he went both ways. She was already p.g. when they married. And she knew us boys and Dad all fucked around. But, goddamn, she didn't have to listen to that sonofabitch banging me!"

"I was an only child," I said. "So I don't have any idea what would have gone on, if I had had brothers. My dad's always hated gays. Even now I don't know what would happen, if he found out I go both ways."

"I was the youngest," Perry told me. "Tim and Jake were less than a year apart. I was two years younger than Jake. We all three shared a bedroom. Tim had a single bed of his own. Me and Jake had bunk beds. Me on the top.

"Well, I'd see Jake head over to Tim's bed some nights. I'd say, `What yall doing?' They'd say they were doing `big boy stuff,' and for me to go to sleep.

"Momma would go out to a church meeting or to her sewing circle ever so often. When she was gone, Dad would call one of my bros to come over to his room. I didn't know what Dad was doing and nobody told me, but when I got old enough to realize that Tim and Jack were sucking and fucking, I let `em know I wanted to see what all that shit was like. And they let me start sucking them. And after the three of us started playing around, Dad wouldn't wait `til Momma was away. He'd come to our room, and we'd all mess around."

"My god, that's hot," I interjected.

"Later on," he continued, "the four of us would have `boys' nights out.' We'd get together and party with some of Dad's buddies and some of them had sons. That's how we got to know Donald.

"But then Tim knocked up this old gal. He was nineteen. She may've been seventeen. Anyway, she wanted to get an abortion. But Tim said it was his kid too. He wanted to keep it. She said he'd have to marry her. So he did. She had a baby boy. Then they were goanna get a divorce and he would get custody. I heard they did after I left home. And I'm sure he can't wait `til his kid gets old enough to play around.

"Anyway, I was sixteen and Dad couldn't seem to keep motherfucking Donald from messing with me, so I just took off.

"Like I said before, I don't know why I'm telling you all this shit. But we aint never goanna see each other again anyway."

"Quite a story," I said. Hell, I'd had my share of hookups, but nothing like that.

"You planning to ever go back home?" I asked.

"I dunno. Sometimes I feel bad for running out without telling anybody. I have called Momma a couple of times. That's how I found out about Tim's divorce. But I like being on the road.

"Time'll come though, when it won't be as easy. Can't live forever by selling your dick. I guess I can always hire out as a farm hand, be a busboy—I've known a few guys who've made a living cutting up chicken for Tyson's.

"I'd love to see Tim and Jake again. I'm still pissed off at Dad, though."

As we had talked, we'd eaten up the miles. Despite our long lunch stop and our dalliance along the road, we were still arriving at Oklahoma City a little after five.

I had a reservation at a La Quinta Inn just east of the junction of Interstates 35 and 40. Purely on the spur of the moment I said, "This time of day you'll play hell getting a ride. You want to bunk with me tonight?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," he grinned, again tugging at his crotch.

I parked away from the hotel's entrance and walked into the lobby. I wanted the folio to show that I was alone. My wife or the company accountants might have questions. I didn't have a problem about not registering Perry, though, because the rate was the same for one or two guests. I got my key card and drove to the side entrance. We went up to the room. It had two double beds.

I told Perry that the hotel had a guest coin laundry. If he had stuff to wash, I'd be glad to do it for him.

He gave me everything in his duffle. It wasn't much.

"Might as well give me what you have on," I said. "You can shower, while I put everything in the washer."

He didn't hesitate to strip. He looked good naked.

When I came back to the room, he was still enjoying his shower. But when he heard me return, he toweled off and came out, not bothering to cover himself.

I had also brought ice. I always carry Bourbon in my luggage, so I poured myself a drink and offered Perry one, which he gratefully accepted.

"You won't get me in trouble for giving liquor to a minor, will you?" I kidded.

"Shit, if I'm old enough to vote and old enough to get killed in the fucking army, I ought to be old enough to drink," he answered.

"Can't argue with that," I said.

We sipped our drinks and talked about how stupid a lot of laws are. After a half hour I went back to the laundry and put his stuff in the dryer. When I came back, I fixed us a second Bourbon.

"You're married, aintcha?" he asked.

"Yeah, for almost fifteen years. No kids, though."

"She know you fuck around?"

"Nah. That is I don't think so. She's never seemed to suspect anything. Of course I don't go out picking up young dudes every day," I laughed.

"But you wish you did," he retorted.

"I dunno. I was pretty active back in college. With girls and guys. But finding a gal and settling down seemed the right thing to do. And we've had a pretty good life together."

"I aint never goanna settle down," he declared. "If I ever got married, she'd have to accept that god hasn't made the person that can keep my dick satisfied."

When the time came, I brought his clean wardrobe back to the room. "Let me get a shower, and then we'll go eat," I said.

Like he had, I came out of the bathroom bareassed, and started to put on clean clothes, a sport shirt and chinos.

"You got a good looking bod for an old fucker," he teased.

"I feel just as young as you," I replied.

"Sure you do," he continued. "I'll bet you can cum at least twice a day."

"Later on you can try me."

He pulled on a half-way presentable pair of jeans and a tee shirt without rips. There was an Italian restaurant called Primo's right next to the hotel. Nice place with booths with tan leather seats. I tried their Veal Piccata, which was very good. He had Lasagna.

We were back in the room by nine. He said, "I still want you to fuck me."

"I'm going to fuck you more than once, baby boy. I'll show you how many times I can cum."

He peeled off his tee and I undid his jeans. He was already hard as a rock. He unbuttoned my shirt, loosened my belt, and unzipped me. In a flash we were both naked, both appreciating the bare figures before us. I couldn't resist taking his manhood into my mouth. I sucked him passionately. He gave me as much of his essence as he had in the afternoon.

I savored his body, his ears, his pits, his pecs, his gut, his balls, his ass. He did the same to me. I filled his asshole with my naturally lubricating spit. He coated my dick with his. Then I rolled him onto his back and he raised his legs to allow me entry.

When I stabbed his hole with my rod, he didn't even grunt. He just purred, "Yes...yes...yes," as I stared into his eyes.

My trimmed pubes scratched his cheeks as I relished the feeling of his ass around my dick. He flexed the muscles of his colon to intensify my pleasure. Then he moaned, "Fuck me, man."

I pulled back, then begin to gently shove my dick in and out, up and down, to and fro. I murmured in ecstasy each time my prong plunged past his prostate. I went for as long as I could before I had to reach my climax. That's when I began to pound more forcefully. Faster and faster I pummeled his bottom. The expression on his face was pure bliss.

My tube exploded in a rhapsodic series of gushes. I hadn't fucked a guy in weeks, and I was past ready. "Oh fuck yes!" I cried. "Take my cream!"

I spooned him for what seemed like hours, while I played with his shaft. My snake was getting up again too.

"You ready to take me again?" I whispered.

"You can really get it up again, old man?" he responded. I pushed my prong against his butt. "Yeah, I guess you can," he said.

I took my time making him ready. What was left of my cum in his chute was all the lube we'd need. I slipped my dick up his ass and I knew I could make it last forever. I pounded his ass for a half hour. Both of us were in paradise, but he finally panted, "Let me have some cum."

I squirted about half as much cream as I had given him before. It had been a long day. I fell asleep with my dick still in his ass.

Next morning we went down for the "bright side breakfast," one of the better free breakfasts hotel chains offer. It always features waffles, but I never eat them, because the syrup is like colored Karo. That didn't bother Perry.

Back in the room, he changed out of the more presentable tee that he had worn to breakfast and back into the sleeveless shirt he had worn the day before. I donned my pinstripe suit, ready for a day in the corporate trenches.

"You sure do clean up nice," Perry said.

"I'm sure you would too," I teased.

"I'll drop you at the Petro on MLK. It's on my way downtown," I told him. "I don't know what you plan to do. It'll probably be about five before I'll finish my business, but I'll swing back by there on the way back to the hotel. If you're still there, you're welcome to spend another night with me. I'll be heading back home tomorrow morning."

When I dropped him at the truck stop, I gave him a twenty dollar bill to tide him over. My experience with meeting up with people is that they are usually not there even if I do show up. I rolled into the Petro parking lot at ten after five, though, and sure enough there was Perry, shirt open and jeans slung low, with a broad grin on his face.

He jumped in the car and handed me back the twenty I'd given him. "Didn't need your scratch," he laughed. "Found myself a John who was even more generous. He had a big dick and a nice sleeper."

That really broke me up. "Don't you do anything but fuck?" I asked.

"I'd rather sell my dick than fly a sign," he said.

I told him to keep my money. The next trucker he ran into might not be so generous.

This time we showered together and sucked each other off, before we headed out to dinner.

I was in the mood for seafood even in the middle of Oklahoma. There was a place named Pelican's not too far away. I convinced the waiter to let Perry have a drink with me. Then I convinced Perry to try the New England Clam Chowder. It was good, though not the best. I had a very good Scampi. Perry stuck with Catfish Filets.

Back at the room, I broke out the Bourbon again. We probably drank more than we should have, but not so much that we couldn't enjoy the sex. We made a good pair. I really get off on sucking dick. Perry loves to be fucked. I hadn't cum so many times in one day since I was in college. We even sucked each other off the next morning, before I dropped him back at the Petro.

So I'd spent over a hundred bucks that otherwise I wouldn't have, if I hadn't picked up this stray kid; but it was fun. And that really all that counts, isn't it.


Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved