After playing poker with a few of the my friends one Thursday night, I drove back home to Canterbury at around midnight. I usually picked up any hitch-hikers and took them as far I could on my normal route home.
There were mostly young men begging a ride and there was no anxiety about violence done in private in those days. Because of the regularity of my habits, I gave rides to some hitch-hikers more than once.
Some were content to negotiate where I could take them and sit quietly until our parting intersection, others would keep conversations alive after establishing common ground either through establishing what was happening that night, suburbs we lived in or visited, or maybe transport options etc.
Driving through South Wixton on Stanley Street I noticed a boy who looked to be in his mid-teens, slim with blond hair, well dressed, who I had given rides to a few times previously. He seemed interested in my car, a non-descript dark green Wolseley. I guess to him, any car was a luxury.
I usually dropped him off after about 4 miles, but this night, I thought I might take him as far as he wanted, and tell him it wasn't too far out of the way.
As we approached our usual drop off point, I offered to take him a bit further. Someone that young could be fun.
I asked him what his trousers were made of. It was a completely absurd question. He thought it was cotton. He appeared to be shy and very timid when the conversation became personal.
I wondered how far he would go. I reached across and felt his pants near the top of his leg, rubbing it between my thumb and finger. I wanted to grope him but I would have to be patient. I kept him engaged in conversation and found out he was out dancing with his girlfriend on Thursday nights.
I kept driving knowing every mile I travelled, I would have to drive back again, but I was hoping to make some ground with him. He seemed to try hard to keep things on a friendly basis. If he was trying to fit keep my approval, I guessed it to be unlikely that he would reject any assertive advance. Even though there was no perceptible chance I could get what I was after, I wanted to try anyway.
After about 6 more miles I asked "How far from here?"
He said, "At the end of this park."
I said "Let me feel that material again. I think its Gaberdine."
I put my hand on the top of his leg and could feel one of his balls. I was getting excited. This familiarity made him feel very uncomfortable.
As we approached the place where he turned off, he said, "I don't live far away. I can walk from here."
I said, "No trouble. I might as well take you all the way if we're this close. Which way?"
He replied in what I thought was a very reluctant tone, "Down there".
I kept my hand on his leg moving it only to change gears, returning it to his leg, which had begun to shake. I turned into the second street, feeling his leg, probing for his cock. We drove to the end of the street, probably passing his house.
He said, "This'll do."
