The brawny hitchhiker took my breath away, thumbing for a ride alongside the on-ramp to I-40, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked hot as fuck in an unbuttoned flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, a ball cap turned backwards, and a pair of jeans sliding down his hips. Sex on a stick, as they say. And I was betting he had a big stick.
I knew not to stop for him. I knew all the warnings, heard all the cautionary tales. He could be a thief, an ax murderer, mentally unstable. No good deed goes unpunished. But those hairy pecs and washboard abs. And that perfect “V” formed by his lower abs, directing my eyes to his crotch. I had to stop. I had to have him, no matter the risk.
“Where you headed?” I asked, my car pulled onto the gravel shoulder, window lowered.
“California,” he answered, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Damn,” I whistled. “You got a long way. I can take you as far west as Memphis, but then I’m dropping south to New Orleans.”
“Works for me,” he consented, climbing into the passenger seat and hurling his heavy backpack into the backseat.
He smelled of sweat and the open air, of frustration at having to stand in the sun for hours, praying for a ride. His pores were oozing an intoxicating mix of pheromones that drove me wild.
I wanted to climb into the backseat right then and there, offering up my ass to him, my face pressed against the window as he grunted his seed into me. But I had to play my cards carefully. Wild horses can be skittish, and I aimed to tame and ride this one.
“You got a name?” I finally asked after ten miles of excruciating silence, the engine humming along the highway.
“Cooper,” he responded, gazing out the window. “But everyone calls me Coop.”
“And why you heading to California?”
“My daughter—my baby girl,” he answered, his eyes still looking away.
He’s a fucking breeder, was my thought. Not exactly the news I wanted to hear, but not the end of the world either. Straight men—even those with a child—are not a lost cause. They just require a little more work, a softer touch, before they’re willing to fuck my ass.
“How old is she—your baby girl?”
“Six weeks,” Coop answered, finally turning his eyes to me. “I haven’t met her yet. My ex-girlfriend Brinn left me for another dude and moved to California with him. But then she found out she was pregnant.”
“You sure that you’re the baby daddy?” I queried, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah. Brinn says the baby is mine, the math only works out that way,” he reported. “She says her new boyfriend is willing to raise the baby as his, but I still wanna do the right thing and be in the picture, you know. I’m still her daddy.”
“Wow. That’s not an easy situation,” I sympathized. “But you sound like a good man. That baby girl is lucky to have you.”
Jesus, none of this was going the way I had planned. Normally, I would have steered the conversation to pussy, getting him to admit that he hadn’t gotten his cock wet in weeks or months. I would then offer up my easy hole, bending over for him in the backseat or, alternatively, a gas station men’s room. We would then part ways, his semen swimming in my bowels.
But Coop was a different matter. His big heart and his tender story had thrown me off my game. Picking him up off the side of the road, taking advantage of his predicament, to manipulate him into fucking me suddenly left a bad taste in my mouth. Sure, I still wanted his cock in the worst way. But I wasn’t going to force his hand.
The next few hours on the road flew by in a whirl, Coop opening up to me, telling me about his difficult childhood. His father had been a drunk, violent and temperamental. Coop wanted to be nothing like that with his own child, giving her the love and support he didn’t receive from his dad. He planned to find construction work in California, wanting his daughter to have all the things he lacked as a kid.
It was near nightfall when we made it to the outskirts of Memphis. My overall plan was to grab some dinner and then find a motel before heading south to New Orleans in the morning. But my immediate desire was to get Coop in my bed, and up my ass, that night.
“You want to join me for dinner?” I offered, pulling into a diner adjacent to a motel.
“Nah,” Coop refused. “I got some granola bars in my backpack.”
“Dude. I’m buying you a meal,” I insisted. “You can’t eat granola bars for dinner.”
Coop agreed reluctantly, taking a seat across from me in a windowed booth. Our waitress Darlene flirted with him unabashedly, batting her eyes at him, her big tits shoved in his face when putting down our plates. Back the fuck off, bitch, my eyes threatened her.
Coop ate ravenously, scarfing down a chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy like he hadn’t eaten in a week. I encouraged him to order a banana cream pie he was eyeing in the rotating dessert case, secretly wishing he’d bend me over in the men’s room after dinner, my wrecked hole a cream pie when he was done.
“I’m gonna get a room for the night,” I gestured to the motel next door as we left the diner, our bellies full, but my ass still craving his cock. “You’re welcome to share my room.”
“Nah,” Coop refused. “We passed a truck stop about a mile back. I’m gonna see if I can hitch another ride on a rig going west.”
“Dude. When was the last time you slept in a bed?”
“About a week,” Coop admitted sheepishly. He looked dog tired.
“Then it’s settled,” I announced. “You can share my room. You’ll get a much better start in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”
Coop waited in my car while I went inside the motel office to check in. I half expected him to be gone when I returned—either his thumb out at the truck stop, or his dick inside Darlene in the back alley of the diner, her big tits bouncing as he fucked his load into her. But, to my elation, Coop was still there when I returned, his big feet propped on the dashboard.
“All they had was a room with a king bed,” I lied. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine,” he shrugged.
Coop channel surfed while I took a shower, his meaty body spread out upon the bed. I was hoping he would settle on some pussy porn to set the mood, but he was watching a nature documentary when I emerged from the bathroom in a fresh pair of boxer briefs.
“Shower’s all yours,” I announced, climbing into bed, my wet hair on the pillow.
Coop arose from the bed and clicked off the TV. Shedding his clothes into a pile at the foot of the bed, I was delighted to catch a glimpse of his big cock swinging between his legs. As I had hoped, Coop was hung like fuck. Jesus, I wanted him.
I turned off the lights as Coop got into the shower, counting the minutes until his return. On a whim, just before I heard the water shut off, I jumped up and retrieved a bottle of lube from my duffel bag. Quickly, I fingered a generous amount into my hole, discarding my briefs before sliding back into bed.
Coop emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair slicked back, as naked as before—not even a towel around his waist. Slipping into bed next to me, he rested his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, his muscular arms propped behind his head.
“You gonna let me fuck you now?” he blurted out, almost impatiently.
“What? How did—how’d you know—?” I began to stammer.
“Dude,” Coop laughed riotously. “I could tell you wanted my big dick from the second you screeched to a halt alongside that on-ramp. I’ve been waiting all day for you to offer up your ass to me.”
“Straight?” he laughed. “Shit, I don’t believe in labels when it comes to sex. Girls—guys—it’s all good to me. Brinn left me because I couldn’t commit. I just didn’t want to be tied down to one hole for the rest of my life, you get me?”
“I definitely get you,” I affirmed, my hand reaching under the covers for his cock. Coop was already rock hard, easily nine inches and thick as fuck.
“You wanna ride this big fuckin’ dick?” Coop taunted, pulling me atop him. “You wanna feel this big cock in your tight cunt?”
Straddling him, my legs spread wide on either side of his body, I sat on Coop’s big dick. Grinding my sphincter into his hairy balls, I gripped the entire length of his shaft from within.
“Christ Almighty,” he exhaled, his arms stretched behind his head. “You’ve gotta sweet cunt. I can’t recall the last time anyone took me balls deep.”
“That’s because you’re hung like fuck,” I teased him, bobbing up and down on his big cock, my hands gripping his meaty thighs for support. “Your big dick feels so good inside me.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he growled grabbing me by the hips, his big cock suddenly a piston inside of me. I was used to taking control when I rode a guy’s cock, but this was altogether different. Unwittingly, I had ceded all power, all control, to Coop. In short, he was owning my ass.
“Fuck, that’s good,” I panted, leaning forward, my hands resting on his hairy pecs as he pounded my hole over and over. “Yeah, fuck my cunt,” I implored. “Fuck my pretty, pink cunt.”
And then it happened fast. Wrapping his muscular arms around me, his cock buried in my hole, Coop flipped us over, his cock never slipping out of me—an amazing feat of acrobatic skill. I landed on my back, all his weight upon me, as Coop pummeled my hole.
“Christ, I love fucking ass,” he bellowed on top of me, jackhammering me at a relentless pace. His speed quickened, his cock growing even more rigid inside me. His shaft swelled, his breathing intensified. Coop was about to bust, and I was ready for it.
Wrapping my legs around him, pulling him deeper into me, I eagerly awaited his load. “Cum in me,” I begged. “Fucking seed my hole.”
“FUCK,” he grunted, collapsing on me as his cock discharged in my depths, his beard scratching my cheek. “Yeah, take my fuckin’ nut.”
As Coop dumped his load in me, his cock throbbing with each spurt, I imagined that fateful night in which he impregnated Brinn. I pictured him grunting his load into her, just as he was with me, his sperm charging rapidly to her fertile egg, a homing beacon, instead of swimming aimlessly in my guts.
“Christ, that was good,” he moaned in my ear, collapsing upon me. I wrapped my arms around his broad back, stroking him softly, his big cock slowly going soft inside me.
Satiated, Coop withdrew and rolled off me, pulling me into his arms. Within minutes, he was snoring softly, his meaty chest rising and falling. I fell asleep with my head on his furry pecs, his warm load trickling out of my wrecked hole. We slept the night with our bodies pressed together—two random strangers finding comfort in each other.
An urgent pounding on the door awoke us late morning, the sun spilling through the cracks in the cheap, vinyl curtain. Coop jumped up to answer the door, his huge cock swinging between his legs.
“Check out was ten minutes ago,” the motel manager sneered, his eyes traveling from Coop’s big cock to my naked ass upon the bed, a disgusted look upon his face. “Unless you two boys want to pay for another night.”
“We’ll clear outta here in a minute,” Coop assured him, closing the door quickly.
We dressed hurriedly, an awkward silence between us, knowing our blissful time together had come to an end. Coop was waiting by my car, his backpack thrown over his shoulder once more, when I returned from dropping off the room key. He looked like a lost puppy.
“You want a ride up the street to that truck stop you saw?” I offered, tossing my duffel bag in the car. “I’m sure you’ll find someone heading to California in no time.”
“I dunno,” Coop hesitated. “I’m thinking I might ride down to New Orleans with you. Maybe look for some work.”
“What about your baby daughter?” I inquired, surprised by his abrupt change in plans. “I thought you wanted to see her.”
“Yeah—I do,” he acknowledged. “But she’s pretty little. She ain’t gonna know whether I’m around or not for a long time. And I can start sending money once I find me a job.”
“True,” I agreed. “But where are you gonna stay when you get to New Orleans?”
“I was thinking I might crash on your couch,” Coop ventured tentatively. “I don’t need much, and I won’t be any trouble.”
“Nah,” I dismissed. “You can’t sleep on my couch, Coop. That won’t work for me.”
“Oh—I see. Just forget that I—”
“Hold up,” I cut him off. “I don’t want you on my couch—I want you in my bed,” I smiled broadly, pulling Coop into my arms, my head resting on his broad shoulder.
It was late that night before we made it to New Orleans. We stopped twice for Coop to fuck my ass in the backseat of the car, the windows steamy as he grunted his load into me, and one more time in a gas station men’s room, my hands gripping the dirty sink as he dominated my hole with his big cock. Coop’s desire was insatiable. Sex on a stick, as they say.
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
From the Twisted-Talez Vault 🔓
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