Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2014 16:59:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Another Hitchhiking Adventure 6

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
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				    MM


Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.



		       ANOTHER HITCHHIKING ADVENTURE

			      by Macout Mann


				     6


It was a little after nine when I took my place on the westbound ramp
headed to Atlanta.  I had been very lucky this whole trip.  No rain.  Now
however the clouds had rolled in and it looked threatening.

I waited for over an hour, before a late model Mercedes surprised me by
rolling to a stop.  I was even more surprised when I saw that it contained
a well-dressed couple in their sixties.  I thanked them profusely for
stopping and crawled into the back seat with my shit.

For about five minutes no one spoke.  The heavens had opened and the rain
was so hard it was difficult to see beyond the hood of the car.  Finally I
did repeat my thank you.  "I really do appreciate your giving me a ride," I
said.

"You're most welcome," the man finally responded.  "We often give rides to
hitchhikers, when my wife decides they are respectable."

"Then I'm glad I looked respectable," I laughed.  Made me glad that I had
changed from my cum-stained shorts to clean-looking jeans and a shirt with
buttons.

"We never pick up girls," his wife interjected.

"My wife doesn't think it's proper for women to hitchhike," her husband
explained.

"Well, these days it's sometimes difficult to tell the difference," I
suggested.

"I was a physician," he said.  "Females have more protrusive cheekbones
than males.  I can almost always tell if a hitchhiker is a woman even at a
distance."

"And it's not hard to tell if a man is respectable," his wife joined in.
"A lot of hitchhikers are dirty, ragged, and unshaven.  They look like they
haven't bathed in a month, and they appear to have no self-respect.

"You looked like you were in charge of your life.  That's why I said `let's
stop.'"

"Very interesting," I said.  "I've got to ask, how did you first start to
give rides to hitchhikers?"

"It was about thirty years ago," the man began.  "We were on a road trip
out West.  It was a hundred degrees out in the desert, and out in the
middle of nowhere was this young guy thumbing.  He was about your age, and
I stopped to give him a ride.  My wife berated me for stopping, telling me
it was dangerous and all that sort of thing.

"Well, the young man got in the car and proved to be a charming travelling
companion, and Thelma decided that she had been wrong.  So ever since then,
she has made the decision whether to stop or not, when we see a hitchhiker.
Usually her instincts are correct.  But rarely we give a ride to someone
we'd just as soon not have picked up."

We chatted for a little over an hour.  They were going to Greensboro.  I
was dropped at the Main Street exit, thanked them again, and hit the
on-ramp.  The rain had temporarily stopped.  I still had about eighty miles
to go, though.

After an hour, the rain started again.  I decided it was time for lunch.
There were several restaurants nearby.  I chose the Pizza Hut.  I ordered a
pepperoni and sausage pizza and took my time eating it, hoping that the
rain would stop again.  It finally did.

It was 1:30 when I got back on the ramp and stuck out my thumb.  They say
it's always harder to get a ride when it's rainy, and that sure proved to
be true today.  It was 2:15 when a nondescript flatbed truck finally
stopped.  The driver was maybe three or four years older than me, a
mousey-looking dude, wearing a khaki shirt and trousers and sporting a
three-day growth of beard.

"Hop in," he commanded, "or you're goanna get your ass soaked."

"Thanks for stopping," I replied.  "I'm headed to Atlanta."

"I'm going to Covington," he said, "but I've got to stop in Madison and
pick up a load of lumber at Lowe's.  I'm supposed to be off today, but my
fucking boss wants this goddamned shit at the jobsite first thing Monday.
I'd rather do it today than tomorrow.  Tomorrow afternoon I've got a hot
date I don't wanna miss out on.  She just loves to put out."

"Bosses can really fuck you up sometimes," I responded.

"This bastard makes a habit of it.  But as hard as jobs are to get these
days, I just got to grin and bear it.  Still pisses me, though.

"What sorta work you do?"

I decided I didn't want to say I was in college, so I replied, "Nothing,
right now.  Maybe I can get on with somebody in Atlanta.  I've worked for a
big landscaping company down in Mobile before."

"I've done some landscaping.  Cutting lawns and raking leaves."

My brother, Chuck, gets really pissed when people equate lawn work with
landscaping.  But I just let it pass.

"So you live back in Greensboro?  Got your own place?" I asked.

"Yeah, Greensboro's o.k.  I've lived there all my life.  So I know which
gals fuck and which don't.  But I still live with my mom.  That's a fucking
pain."

"I'll bet.  My folks are both dead, so when I'm home I stay with my big
brother.  He's a wild motherfucker, so I don't have to bother about not
doing shit when I'm there."

"That's a blessing," he said.

When we got to Madison, I'd planned to ask him to drop me off, while went
and got his load, then pick me up again when he came back, if I hadn't
gotten a ride.  But the rain was coming down in sheets, so I opted stay
with him, when he stopped at Lowe's.

"There's Home Depots in Covington and in Greensboro," he bitched.  "It'd be
a whole lot more convenient to do business with them.  But my goddamned
boss is friends with the manager here, so we have to do business with him."

It took only a half hour to load the flatbed.  Then we were back on the
road.  It was just a few miles more to Covington.  He dropped me at the
Martin Luther King Drive exit.

Fortunately it had stopped raining, but it was still threatening; so I
decided to take my chances with the cops and go up to the top of the ramp
where I might get a ride with somebody coming along the freeway.

I was lucky.  A ten-year-old Honda Civic was barreling down the interstate.
He was going over eighty, which is not unusual on Georgia freeways.  When
he saw me, he hit the brakes and came to a stop about fifty yards beyond
the ramp.

When I had trudged down to where he stopped and opened the door, I found
myself looking at the classic portrait of a "fella" out looking for dick.
Styled hair, plucked eyebrows, an orchid t shirt a size too small.  If he'd
stood up, I'm sure he'd have shown a bare midriff.  He was wearing tight
jeans with holes at obvious places.  I could see skin almost up to his
joint, and he had a hole at his hip that revealed he was freeballing.
Although the holes appeared to be worn, they obviously had been cut, then
washed to appear ragged.

"Hello," he said. "Where to?"  I was surprised that his voice was a
well-modulated bass.

"Headed to Atlanta," I answered.

"That's where I'm going."  His hand grabbed his crotch in an obvious
gesture.

I'm not into obvious faggots, but this motherfucker was so delicious that,
if I hadn't still been recovering from last night and looking forward to
tonight, I'd have shown him my dick as soon as I got in the car.  Instead I
decided to have some fun.

"Do you live in Atlanta?" I asked, like I thought it must be the grandest
place in the world.

"Yeah, but it aint all it's cracked up to be.  I've been over to Augusta
looking for some action.  Nothing happening over there either."

If he only knew!

"I can't believe there's not a lot going on in Atlanta," I said.

"Oh, there's shit going on all right.  But not my cup of tea."  He
scratched his groin again.  I was careful not to touch anywhere near mine.

"So what all you into?" I asked.

"About anything.  But I want the guy I'm with to be like me.  Willing to do
it all and not worry about shit.  I like it bareback."

As much as I wanted to, I didn't say that anybody taking it bareback was
stupid.  I just mused, "Do you now?"

"You look like you got quite a piece of meat," he ventured.

"I aint never been ashamed of mine," I answered.  Then I added, "I got
picked up by this dude back in Charleston the other night.  He was staying
in a real nice hotel.  He really liked it.  I spent the night with him."

"You could spend the night with me tonight."  He reached for his dick
again.  It was straining against his jeans almost poking through the hole
at the top of his thigh.

"That'd be fun," I taunted, "but it'd still cost ya."

Shocked, he cried, "You're a hustler?"

"Gotta support yourself somehow, when you're on the road," I grinned.

He was quiet for several seconds.  "How much?" he finally asked.

"Can't do it tonight anyway," I said.  "Gotta meet my granddad when we get
to Atlanta."  We were already cruising through Decatur.

He was really pissed.  He realized that I'd been messing with his head.

Moreland Avenue separates Fulton and DeKalb Counties.  It would be a good
place for Granddad to come and get me.  So I asked to be dropped there.  He
stopped at the top of the off ramp, and I thanked him nicely.  He didn't
say a fucking word.  Just drove off.

I called Granddad as I walked down the ramp.  There was a convenience store
at the bottom, and I told him I'd be waiting for him there.  I bought a
Coke and told the clerk I was waiting for someone.  We chatted between
customers.  In about twenty minutes I saw Granddad's pickup pull in to the
parking lot.

As I ran out of the store, he jumped out of the truck to greet me.  We
embraced warmly.  I hadn't seen him in some time.  He doesn't come down to
Mobile as often as he used to.  Now in his mid-sixties he still works
framing houses.  Says he can get jobs a lot easier than most younger guys
can, because he does good work.

We began the drive back to his place.  "So you been making out like a tall
dog this trip?" he asked.

"I've had some fun," I answered.  Told him about Welby and his wife, my
encounter in Charleston, and Clint and Rob's little party last night.
Finally we both had a good laugh over the fag that just dropped me off.
Checking out his jeans, I noticed his could get it up as good as ever.

"You still fucking that old gal down the block?" I asked.

"Shit no," he replied.  "The bitch moved.  But what they say about guys as
they get older is true.  We're more in to guys than broads."  He reached
over and gave me a feel to emphasize his point.

We stopped at a Krystal for something to eat.  Their hamburgers are small
and cheap but really tasty.  I had four crystals and fries.

Granddad's house is small, but requires little upkeep.  One big living and
dining area, a kitchen, two little bedrooms and a bath.  Once there he
poured us both a straight bourbon and asked if I'd rather see straight porn
or gay.  I said he'd told me he liked guy dudes better these days, and that
was o.k. with me.

He put on a French video.  It didn't have subtitles, but it didn't really
need any.  It was about a bunch of young guys, sorta like scouts, that were
out competing to find a hidden talisman with instructions hidden in various
places along the way.  In the process of reaching the goal, they had all
sorts of encounters with each other and with men along the trail.  It was
hot as hell.

After the movie we hit the sack.  Both slept in his bed.  He was still hot
as hell too.



Sunday we mostly lounged around, watched a coupla more of Granddad's
videos.  In the afternoon drove around awhile to see some sights.  Had
dinner at a neighborhood restaurant.  Good Southern cooking.  Afterward we
went to a bar where Granddad was well known.  Even after I was introduced I
had to show my fake I.D.  Got to meet some of Granddad's friends, though.
Later we stopped by a gay bar, where I got propositioned a couple of times.
I told them I was taken, and pointed to Granddad.  It was a real pleasant
day.

We still got to bed early.  He had to get to work, and we had to get up
especially early if he was to drop me at the freeway.