It was an incredibly long drive across Texas, through some of the most desolate country imaginable. My sales job took me all over the southwest. I'd been driving for hours and could count the cars I'd seen on one hand. Of course, this was somewhat by design; I didn't care for interstate highways. I much preferred the two lane state routes. With so few cars to share the road with, I could get lost in my music or just my thoughts. Besides, all my customers lived off of these kind of roads.
I was on a particularly desolate stretch of road when I saw the hitchhiker up ahead. I remember thinking, "How does he expect to get a ride on a road with no traffic?" I believe you can easily divide people into two groups when it comes to hitchhikers, and I've always been in that group that will generally stop to offer someone a ride. It's the samaritan thing to do, and besides, it's nice to have a little company. I'd met some nice people that way, and had some very stimulating conversation. I had never once felt threatened, and had only regretted it once or twice (when my passenger had been too many days without a shower.)
As I got closer I could make out his stereotypical cowboy features... He was lean and lanky, with dusty jeans, a denim jacket over a white T-shirt, aviator sunglasses, a red bandana hanging out of one pocket, and a cowboy hat - the kind where the brim is bent at fairly sharp angles. I slowed as I passed him and he flashed a nice smile and a friendly wave. I pulled over and waited as he ambled up. He opened the back car door and tossed a dusty, well-worn, army surplus duffle bag into the rear seat before climbing into the front seat beside me.
"Thanks for stopping. I'm Brett," he said and offered his hand. I shook it, noting his rough skin and firm grip.
"Hank," I said. "Where you headed?"
"Houston," he replied. I checked my mirrors and gunned it.
"I'm headed for Phoenix," I said. "Happy to drop you off."
"Much obliged," Brett replied, slouching down into the seat. He allowed his hat to tip forward, covering his eyes, as if preparing to sleep all the way to Houston.
I looked over at him and noticed an incredible bulge starting in his crotch and creating a salami-sized outline that ran halfway down his thigh. My mouth may have fallen open in awe, I'm not sure, but I quickly looked away. I didn't know if he could see me from under the brim of that cowboy hat, but I certainly didn't want to give him the wrong idea. I wasn't gay, or even bisexual. Like most guys, I had thought about it a few times... wondered what it would be like. I even found it arousing. But I had never acted on such urges, and never planned to.
Miles went by. I made a couple of attempts at chit-chat, but Brett seemed more interested in shut-eye than conversation. Every so often, I'd sneak another glance at that bulge, my imagination running a little wild. I looked over again, amazed at the size, and as I watched, his hand slid down from his belly, cupped the girth of his shaft and stroked downward toward the tip. My eyes were riveted. Suddenly there came that familiar "driving by braille" sound. Mesmerized by the python in his jeans, I had drifted off to the side of the road. I snapped my head forward, simultaneously jerking the steering wheel.
"Damn, Hank! Just pull the car over."
"Gotta go?" I asked nervously.
"No Hank. Pull the car over so you can suck my dick."
I was literally speechless.
"Pull the car over. Do it now!" He said with such authority that I bewilderedly began to brake and pull over.
"Look," I stammered, "I-I-I wasn't... I mean I'm n-n-not..."
"Right," he chuckled. "Save it, Hank. You've been staring at my crotch ever since I got in the car. That's alright. I get that a lot. I know what you want, Hank, and I'm going to give it to you. And maybe some more besides."
"B-b-but I-I-I don't... I think y-y-you've got the wrong..."
"Like hell I do! You've spent the last 45 minutes thinking about a biiiig mouthful of my hard dick. You even got a bulge of your own going there. The good news is, it's been a while and I'm pretty horny, so I'm gonna let you have what you want. Now just stop yer denying and complaining and pull the car over to that little bunch of trees off over there."
Speechless and bewildered, I did as I was told. "Is this really happening?" I asked myself... "Am I really going to do this?"
As the car slowed to a stop, Brett unbuckled his belt and began unbuttoning his fly.
"Listen, r-r-r-really, I..."
He slid his jeans and underwear down in one quick smooth motion, freeing an erection the size of which I'd never seen before. I couldn't speak. I couldn't take my eyes off of that enormous throbbing cock.
"You were saying?" he grinned.
I sat there, utterly frozen and incredulous.
"Your mouth's already wide open. You know damn well you want it. What are you waiting for, cocksucker?" And with that, he reached out, putting a hand on the back of my neck and pulling my head toward his cock. I resisted, my eyes opened even wider. I looked at him with a mixture of fear and indignation, still trying to hold on to the idea that I was NOT a cocksucker. But he was quite strong, and after a moment, I gave in to his strength and my lust and curiosity.
I stopped, my mouth just an inch or two from the swollen purple head. Everything felt so surreal... I remember thinking, "This must be a dream." But then a firm strong hand pushed my head down and the head of his giant, throbbing cock filled my mouth.
"That's it," he said reassuringly. "Mmmmm..."
