The Hitchhiker — 1The Hitchhiker — 1


My name is Erin and I know it is dangerous to hitchhike. But, when you are a vagabond with little money and need to get somewhere, it is the only way. I have no problem paying for a ride with my pussy – but only with men. Age doesn’t matter, provided they’re legal, of course. As long as they can get an erection and keep it hard enough to fuck me and give me an orgasm, I will take them on.I am not a raving beauty. I am a bit on the chubby side but it gives me a more curvaceous figure with a little extra junk in the trunk. Boobs are a 38C, I stand five foot six inches, have long dark brown hair and brown eyes. Worse feature is the sprinkling of freckles across my nose and on my cheeks but guys seem to like them for some reason. I am twenty-five years old and I’ve spent the past three years traveling cross-country and back, hitchhiking. I work when I need spending money.I’ve been in the mid-west and now I’m headed back west to work for the summer, picking fruits and vegetables like those migrant workers you hear so much about. In fact, right now I’m at a truck stop in St. Louis looking for a ride. It’s about seven in the morning and the sun is just peeking in the sky.I wandered into the restaurant, checking out the male travelers when I spotted him. He may or may not be a trucker but damn he was hot looking with a well-defined chest that his shirt seemed to hug. Since he was sitting at a booth, I had no idea what the rest of him looked like or how tall he was. He had black hair tdown to his shoulders and, as I walked by, he looked up at me with smoldering green eyes flecked with gold. I gave him a sexy smile as I passed and took a seat at the counter.I ordered toast and coffee, turning so I could watch him. Almost as if he could read my thoughts or knew I was looking at him, he turned in his seat and made a motion for me to join him. I hesitated — then grabbed my coffee and plate of toast and joined him.“Hi, my name is Erin. Thanks for inviting me to join you.” I said sticking out my hand.He shook it and said, “You’re a hitchhiker, aren’t ya?““Ah, no,” I said, not wanting to be too obvious. “I am just a lonely traveler on the highway of life stopping for breakfast.”He laughed and said, “My name is Dakota but everyone calls me Dak for short. However, you can cut the bullshit because I can spot a hitchhiker a mile away.”“Congratulations, Dak. That is a unique talent you have, being able to spot hitchhikers,” I said sarcastically, forgetting that I was going to hit him up for a ride. “Once you spot a hitchhiker what do you do? Do you make much money from your unique talent?”Leaning istanbul travesti forward, he said softly so no-one else could hear, “I give them a ride and then I stop at a motel and fuck the shit out of them. If they are a good fuck, then they get a longer ride ,but if they are not, they get left behind.”He went back to eating his breakfast after telling me that.I took a couple of bites of my toast and a drink of my coffee, and then decided two could play his game. So I leaned forward and quietly said, “If I was a hitchhiker, that would sound like fun but, before I would hitch a ride with you, I would need to know your cock size. I would have to make sure it was long and thick enough to give me a mind-blowing orgasm.”Dak held a forkful of food at his mouth when I said that and he stopped and looked at me, obviously trying to see if I was joking or really wanted to know. He ate the forkful of food, took a drink of his orange juice, and said, “I have a seven-inch-long, three-inch thick cut cock. Big enough for you?”He continued eating.At the revelation of his cock size, I had just taken another drink of my coffee and almost choked on it, picturing his cock in my mind. But there was always the chance he was bragging. Maybe it was really a skinny four-inch cock.“Sure, it’s big enough — if you’re telling the truth and not bragging.”“Well, after we get done eating, come out to my truck and I will show you,” Dak said without blinking or cracking a smile.“So, are you a long-haul trucker?” “No, I’m just a regular guy traveling to my new job in New Mexico,” he said. “Where are you heading?”“To California, for work too,” I told him as I took my last bite of toast.The waitress came, refilled our coffee cups, and cleared away our dirty dishes.“So, are you ready to admit you’re a hitchhiker, Erin?”Trying to decide if I wanted to get a ride from him or not, I sat in silence. Then said, “Can I get a ride to New Mexico?”“If you put out,” Dak answered, calmly adding sugar to his coffee. “It’s a couple of days drive if we stop at night so you will have to put out each time we get a motel room.”Whispering, I asked, “Are you into kinky stuff?”“Depends on what you call kinky.” Dak said softly. “I like pussy, ass, and oral. Is any of that too kinky for you?”“No,”“So, I guess it is safe to conclude you are a hitchhiker.”“Yes,” I admitted as I looked down at my coffee, hoping he was not really a cop and I was going to be arrested for soliciting or hitchhiking.Looking at the backpack and small suitcase sitting beside me on the bench, Dak asked, “Where istanbul travesti is the rest of your stuff? Or is that it?”“That’s it. I have to travel light. I hitchhike, remember?”“Finish your coffee and we will hit the road,” Dak told me. “I noticed that you only had toast for breakfast. Do you want something else…my treat of course?”“No thank you. I am fine.” I finished my coffee and scooted out of the booth, picking up my stuff. I grabbed my bill from the table and headed to the front to pay with Dak right behind me. As we walked out, I saw that he was a good foot taller than me and had a stocky build. He led me in the direction of a navy blue Dodge Charger with a camper shell that apparently held his belongings.Stopping before he opened the passenger door, he eyed me up and down, and then asked, “How old are you? Are you over eighteen?”I knew I looked younger than my actual age so I dug my ID out of my wallet and showed him. “I am twenty-five… so, how old are you? Though it doesn’t really matter, I fuck all cocks as long as they can stay hard and give me an orgasm.”Dak cleared his throat and looked at me. “Old enough and my cock works just fine. I will bring you so hard your pussy will hurt.” He opened the door, then said, “By the way, I am forty-five years old.”I got in, putting my backpack and small suitcase on the floor beside my feet. It was a tight fit. Dak shut the door and went around to his side. For the first few miles, silence filled the truck and then he turned on the radio to a country station. I soon drifted off to sleep. Although it seemed like minutes, it had been almost six hours when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I jerked awake, ready to fight, causing Dak to laugh.“Easy tiger,” he said. “It’s lunchtime so thought we would grab something and eat it in the truck. Unless you want to eat inside.”I had limited funds so I said, “Thanks Dak, but I’m not hungry. I could use a bathroom and something to drink.”“Okay,” he said as he pulled into a McDonald’s Restaurant. “What do you want to drink?”“A large tea,” I said as I pulled a dollar and a quarter out of my pocket. “And I prefer we eat in the truck.”“I got it,” he told me, waving off the money as he got out.I got out and stretched, pulling my backpack and suitcase out with me.Dak said, “You can leave them in the truck. I promise I won’t leave you behind.”I gave him a half-smile and went on to the restaurant, taking my stuff with me. To say I did not trust anyone was an understatement. I could feel Dak’s eyes on my ass as I went into the restaurant so I made sure I istanbul travesti gave it a little more swing.When I got back to the truck, he handed me my drink along with a couple of cheeseburgers and fries.“Wasn’t sure what you might want on them so I got them plain and some packs of ketchup.”“Thanks,” I said. “How much do I owe you?”“A blow job,” Dak said calmly as he took a bit of his burger. “Or some pussy or ass.”“Okay,” I responded. “That seems a fair enough price for a meal,” I said, putting ketchup on my burger.After we ate, Dak threw the trash away and we headed out.“Sorry I zoned out on you earlier,” I apologized.“That’s okay,” Dak said. “Hitchhiking can be a tiresome job. I did that myself one summer.”“You did?”“Yeah, my cousin and I hitched across the country and back the summer before we started college. But it is more dangerous for a woman, especially one that is by herself. You know Erin, I could be a serial killer and murder you and dump your body where it will never be found. Did you ever think about that?”“Yeah, but if it happens then that is the way it is supposed to be. Life is planned so there’s nothing I can do to change it.”“You could settle down and get a job and stop hitchhiking,” he told me sternly.“Dak, I appreciate your concern but you are not my father — so lay off the fatherly advice,” I told him. “If it bothers you so much, I will fucking pay for my ride to wherever tonight and then find another ride tomorrow.” With that I turned to look out of the window, indicating that the subject was done being discussed.“Do your parents know what you’re doing?”“They’re both dead,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Died in a car crash when I was fifteen and then I went into foster care for three years.”“Well, I’m sure if your parents were alive, they would not want you to be doing this.”“That is a moot question since they’re not, alive,” I said. “Now shut the fuck up and leave me be.”Ignoring my request for silence, Dak said, “If you were my daughter, your ass would be red.”I looked over at him and said calmly, “So, if I was your daughter you would spank me. Well, since you want to fuck me I guess that means you would also fuck your daughter.”If I could read minds, I would have known that I’d angered Dak and he was even tempted to pull off at the next exit and leave my ass there, all thoughts of fucking me having gone out of the window. But, apparently, Dak decided that he would leave me behind the next morning and continue alone. By the time we pulled off the interstate around five in the evening, he was calmer – and horny again.“Do you have money for a room?” he asked when we pulled into the Motel 6 parking lot.“Damn,” I muttered, “I’ve hooked up with a loser who doesn’t have enough money for a motel room.”“I have enough for a room… but I was wondering if you do.”“Thought we agreed on sexual favors in exchange for a ride, room, and food?”

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.