Date: Sat, 15 Feb 2014 07:36:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
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.