I was only a mile out of town when the first car stopped.
It was a Benz, the driver a businessman in a flawless pinstriped suit and flashy pink tie. He had rings on his fingers, his white hair perfectly coiffed, soft and flowing, his green eyes smiling into mine. For a guy over 50, his face was smooth and young-looking, tanned a golden brown.
‘Where you headed?’ he asked, as I filled the open passenger side window with my blond head and broad shoulders. He ignored the ringing of his cell phone, looking me over.
‘West,’ I responded vaguely.
‘Then get in. I’m headed out to my cottage. I can take you about 30 miles down the road.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, and pulled the door open and slid into the leather bucket seat next to him.
His cologne was a little on the heavy side, but I put up with it. He went on and on about the pressures of his job, how his trophy wife was a royal pain in the ass, and I put a stop to it – by placing my hand over his crotch.
He’d had a bulge down there in his pinstripes ever since I’d gotten into the luxury car. And now I covered it with a warm, smooth palm, worked his erection bigger and thicker by rubbing up and down. He groaned and gripped the steering wheel, looking over at me with slightly glazed eyes.
‘My wife … I don’t …’
‘Sure you do,’ I said, gripping his dick through the expensive cloth and stroking. ‘Fuck your wife. She’s nothing but a pain in the ass anyway, remember?’
He forgot all about his wife and the pressures of his job as I rubbed the rather impressive length of his hard-on. I had one going in my own tight jeans that he couldn’t help but notice. He reached over and reciprocated, like I knew he would, grasping my bulging cock with a manicured brown hand and squeezing and stroking.
I leant back in the padded seat and groaned. I like older men, like them to do things to me, like doing things to them. And this aging pretty boy knew just how to show a kid a third of his age a good time, with his hand.
We had our cocks out and cuddled in our bare fists two more miles down the road. The silver fox introduced himself as Roger, as he introduced me to a pulsating erection as smooth and slick as the man himself. He liked my eight inches of meat too, judging by the way he clutched and pulled.
The white lines whizzed by, Roger’s foot pressing harder and harder on the gas, as we tugged faster and faster. His prick throbbed like the motor in my hand, just as hot. I swirled up and down his length, over the top of his handsome hood, as he jacked my dong with his tongue hanging out and his eyes off the road. He wanted to two-hand all of my cock, but I told him not at that speed.
We pumped, fisted. Our breath came in ragged gasps, our chests heaving, loins thrusting up into each other’s hands, pricks spearing palms. It was a four-lane, separated highway, and we barely kept to our side of it.
‘Fuck, Danny!’ Roger gasped, his cock jumping in my pistoning hand. ‘I’m – I’m going to …’
He came, come rocketing out of the tip of his jacked cock, adding more pinstripes to his business attire. I milked him fast and tight and hard, and the sight of the silver-haired guy shooting sperm, his hand convulsively clenching my dick, jerked me over the edge.
‘Yeah!’ I grunted, bucking, jetting.
He almost forgot his own orgasm, staring at the white-hot semen geysering out of my ruptured dong. I coated that walnut dashboard and the leather seat.
‘My wife won’t be coming out for another day or so,’ he said, when he came to the turn-off to Eagle Lake. ‘You can stay with me – swim, boat, fish … You name it.’
It was a tempting offer, the lake the exclusive domain of the city’s elite. But I had miles to go before I slept – with anyone.
A couple of women stopped for me, intrigued by my skin-tight white T-shirt and blue jeans, my smooth, young, sun-bronzed body filling out the form-fitting duds. I gave them the brush, went on walking.
It was half-past two and the sun pouring gold down upon me, when I was picked up by my next ride.
He was a trucker, said his name was Stu. He was driving a company big rig, his face and body grizzled from years and years on the road; a lean, hungry-looking 50-something with an iron-grey brushcut and pale blue eyes. He stubbed out his cigarette as soon as I climbed aboard, didn’t waste any time putting it into gear.
‘Lonely on the road, huh?’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ I returned, liking what I saw, not so much what I was hearing. I wasn’t about to become anyone’s buggy buddy.
Stu was wearing a red plaid workshirt and a pair of blue nylon pants. His veiny hands on the wheel were large. That was another good sign I just couldn’t ignore.
We blew through a small town at the blink of an eye and I leant over, unzipped him, pulled his cock out of his underwear and pants. And was not disappointed. The guy was packing a second stick shift, his meat huge and heavy in my hand even semi-erect. Older men always seem to be hung.
I stroked Stu, staring into his eyes. ‘How ’bout we take it off-road,’ I offered. ‘Park this rig of yours in my ass?’
He shook his head, gripping the wheel with whitened knuckles. ‘Sure’d like to, kid. But I’m on the clock, and the GPS. Can’t make any stops except authorised ones.’
I shrugged and leant right over his lap, licked his gaping slit with a slurp. ‘No problem. Just drive, he said.’ I swirled my wet, pink tongue all around his bloated knob, then poured my plush lips over the top of it.
He groaned, giving it gas, the truck leaping forward, his cock jumping harder and higher in my hand, and mouth.
I dug his hairy balls out, gave them a lick. Then I gripped his sack with one hand, ringed the base of his fully erect prick with the other, and dove my mouth straight down his pole until I kissed up against that second hand. His meat filled my mouth and flooded my throat, hot and throbbing, like my dick in my pants. Stu bucked on his air-cushioned seat, thrusting deep into my throat full throttle.
I bobbed my head in rhythm to his hip movements, sucking on his shaft, tongue velveting up and down, his cock plunging my mouth and throat. I was as hungry as he looked, smoking his pipe. He gave me a long, hard ride; then growled, and spasmed, heated salty sperm spunking my throat and mouth.
I gulped as fast as I could, not spilling a drop as Stu redlined his engine. He gave me everything he had, and then more, when I released his prick in a gush of spit and hot, humid air and he gasped, ‘Your turn to drive.’
He knew his way around the inside of that cab like he knew his way around a man’s cock. We shifted positions in no time flat, me holding the big rig steady on the road, he holding my hard-on in his hand, then his mouth.
He admired my pulsing length and breadth with his rough, sure mitt for a while, pumping slow and sensual, quick and exciting. Then he did the lean-over, inhaled my hood. He sucked hard on my cap, ravenous for meat, and more meat. His head sunk lower, right down into my lap, my entire cock buried in his wet, hot maw.
I blew the horn a couple of times just to let him know I appreciated his skill. He showed me more of it, working his tongue out, over my balls. I squirmed in the seat, locked down in the man’s throat, his tongue lapping at my nut sack. Until he pulled his head back up, plunged it back down, high-dive deep-throating me.
I clutched at his gristly hair with one hand, keeping my other sweating hand on the wheel, the road humming beneath us. He gripped my thighs, moving onto his knees on the floor now, sucking hard and long on my pipe, shifting my semen into high gear. The suction was just too intense; I couldn’t hold back.
‘Fuck, I’m going to come!’ I warned. Then came, bucking in the driver’s seat, blowing Stu a mouth and throat full.
He took it like the hardened road-dog he was, still sucking as he swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed.
Only afterwards, when I’d softened, did he soften again. He went off on another jag about how lonely it was on the road without having anyone to ride along with you. I dropped off his rig when he slowed for diesel at a station. I wasn’t looking for a long haul.
A carload of young flamers skidded to a stop alongside me a few miles further up the road. But that wasn’t my speed, and I gave them the wave by.
Then a white van pulled off onto the shoulder, and I jogged on over to it. New Deal Ministries was stencilled on the side of the vehicle, and a man of about 50 or so was behind the wheel. He looked kindly, with his beaming brown eyes and wavy, greying hair. He had a ripe, full mouth and an angelic face, a slightly chubby body dressed in black pants and jacket, a clerical collar.
‘Need a lift, my son?’
‘Sure do,’ I responded, licking my lips.
He started in with the preaching soon after we’d exchanged first names. Father Todd was part New Age and part Old Testament, counselling me on the roads that led to righteousness and the paths that led to damnation.
I stopped his proselytising with a quick kiss to his fine mouth. His lips were soft and lush, wet from talking. He stared at me, his eyes registering official shock and condemnation, something deeper and darker in behind.
‘Danny, I’m going to overlook that as –’
I kissed him again, harder, longer, speaking in tongues inside his mouth. When I broke away this time, he was panting, his face red. I told him to pull over to the side of the road so I could fuck his ass in the back of the van.
He’d had his lust frustrated for too long. He jerked the wheel over to the right and stomped on the brakes.
The first bench seat in behind was as good as any pew to worship at the man’s ass. And he had a ripe, round one – smooth, pale, fleshy cheeks that quivered warm and willing under my groping hands. I smacked one, the other, and they blushed, Todd groaning and arching his butt up at me on all fours on the seat.
The windows were tinted just dark enough so that the cars and trucks whizzing by couldn’t see me baptising the holy man’s ass with my palms. I spanked him so hard that he rocked back and forth, whimpering; punishing him for his transgressions, the greater transgression yet to come.
I unzipped and pushed down my jeans, pulled out my cock, crowding in behind Todd’s upraised bottom. I smacked his ass with my dong. One cheek, then the other, the crack of cock-flesh against butt-flesh filling the stuffy confines of the vehicle. I bent my head down and clutched his buttocks up and bit into the right one, the left one. The guy really did have an amazingly meaty ass, and I just couldn’t get enough of it. When I licked his crack, he almost jumped right out the window.
I spread his cheeks wide and lapped at his butt cleavage, stroking wetly from his balls to his tailbone, over and over. He moaned, cheeks quivering. I speared into the delicate pink pucker of his asshole, squirmed my tongue around inside, and he begged me to fuck him with my cock. He’d seen the length and the width, and his eyes had lit up with glorious anticipation.
I pulled out the tube of lube I travel with, oiled my cock. Then I slipped two slippery fingers in between Todd’s thick cheeks where my tongue had just been, scrubbed his crack even slicker. He groaned, then howled, when I plugged those digits right into his anus and pumped back and forth.
The guy was tight, hot. But I was making him looser, hotter. I ploughed his butt with a piston-like motion, bouncing my fist off his buns. Then I yanked my fingers out and grabbed on to my cock, pushed my cap inside.
‘Oh God!’ Todd yelped. ‘Stick it in me, Danny! Fuck my ass!’
I sunk shaft deep into his chute, slow and steady and sensuous. His cheeks swelled before me, his anus bulging with cock. He was oven-hot and vice-tight, and I rutted around on the end of his ass, buried to the balls. He rotated his overstuffed bottom up against me, revelling in the wicked sexual sensations as much as I was.
A police car slowed down, drove on by. It was late afternoon. Time was getting short. I had miles to go before I slept the sleep of the truly fulfilled.
I gripped Todd’s waist and drew my hips slowly back, gliding my cock out of his anus. Then I lunged forward, ploughing right back in again, full length. I pumped, fucking the man’s ass.
He gripped the seat cushion with his hands and teeth, his butt cheeks gyrating under my onslaught. I torqued up the pace even more, drilling his ass, plundering his chute. My thighs smacked so hard and so fast against his buttocks that they rippled non-stop, the sound blurring into one continuous crack.
The van rocked with our passion. Todd tore a hand off the seat and grabbed his cock, pulled. He bleated pure joy, instantly jacking ecstasy out of his prick and all over the seat.
I clutched his hips and pounded into his hole, my balls tattooing his butt, cock splitting his anus. I reamed him unmercifully, adding another wild orgasm to his own. Sperm spewed out of the end of my sunken, shunting cock and doused the preacher man’s bowels with my superheated bliss.
I pulled out of his ass when he started crying. I pulled out of his van when he started pleading with me to stay.
I walked across the road and stuck out my thumb, looking to catch a ride or two back into town. You see, I’m never actually trying to go anywhere. I just like getting picked up by older men and taken for rides. It’s the most satisfying form of travel I know.