“Thanks for picking me up,” I offered, climbing into his truck and throwing my backpack on the floorboard. Fuck, he looked hot with his scruffy beard and worn-out shirt and ball cap. I always had a weakness for farm-boy cock.
“No need to thank me,” he replied, chewing on a wheat straw as he stared off into the highway. “I was headin’ to town anyway.”
“You’re Beau, right? Beau Vance?” I asked, even though I knew it was him.
“Uh huh,” he affirmed, not taking his eyes off the road.
“You probably don’t remember me. You were a couple years ahead of me at Central High,” I informed him, trying not to stare at the ample bulge in his jeans.
“Is that right?” Beau replied, seeming to not remember me or otherwise give a shit.
“I heard you married Eliza Cummings after graduation, right?” I asked, trying to make small talk.
“Umm—yeah,” he confirmed awkwardly. “But we ain’t married no more. We—uh—wanted different things, so she left me.”
“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. You still farming with your dad?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Nah,” Beau dismissed. “Dad and I didn’t—didn’t really see eye to eye on some things after I got divorced. So I bought ol’ man Brewster’s farm after he died last year. It ain’t big, but it’s mine.”
“That’s awesome,” I exclaimed. “That’s a nice piece of land.”
“What about you? You in college now?” he asked with a glance at my backpack on the floorboard.
“Yeah—well, not anymore,” I answered. “I was at State, but I dropped out a few weeks ago after a really bad breakup. I just couldn’t stay there and be around him anymore.”
“Him?” Beau asked, finally turning his head to look at me.
“Yeah—I’m gay,” I answered. “That’s actually why I was hitchhiking into town. There’s a Greyhound leaving for Chicago at 3 pm. I’m gonna try to crash with a friend there until I can find some work. My parents won’t let me stay with them. They don’t want a faggot for a son.”
Beau offered not a word in response, his eyes once again fixed upon the road before us as he chewed contemplatively on his wheat straw. After baring my soul to him, Beau’s silence was deafening. I knew I should just keep my mouth shut until we got to town, but I had more to say.
“You didn’t know it,” I began hesitantly, “but I had a huge crush on you back in high school. I thought you were cute as fuck.”
With a sudden jerk of the wheel, Beau pulled his truck off the highway, the gravel of the road shoulder crunching under his tires as he brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Fuck. I shouldn’t have opened my stupid mouth.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” I stammered, my heart racing. “It was wrong of me to tell you that. You can let me out here. I can walk into town.”
“STOP,” he commanded, his meaty hand on my shoulder as I attempted to exit his truck. “I do remember you. And I thought—I thought you were cute, too.”
“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “I didn’t think you ever noticed me.”
“Yeah, I noticed you,” he smiled bashfully, shifting the wheat straw to the other side of his mouth. “Your locker was across from mine.”
“That’s right,” I affirmed. “I bought one of those stupid paper hearts they always sold at school on Valentine’s Day and slipped it in your locker when nobody was looking.”
“That was you?” Beau asked, eyebrows raised. “I remember how it said: ‘I want to kiss you.’ But I assumed it was from Eliza and she got pissed when I showed it to her. She thought some other girl was after me.”
“Well—it wasn’t a girl,” I laughed. “I’m sorry that I got you in trouble.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled, removing the wheat straw from his mouth. “Do you—do you maybe still want that kiss?”
But before I could respond, Beau leaned over and pulled me towards him, our lips meeting with a deep, passionate kiss. The scruff of his beard tickled my chin. With tongues probing, I undid my seatbelt and climbed onto his lap. Through his jeans, I could feel Beau’s cock hardening as I ground my body into his. Our lips parted as his tongue explored up my neck, sending shockwaves through my body.
“I want to be inside you,” Beau whispered in my ear, his hand traveling down the back of my shorts, his finger finding my eager, puckered hole.
“You sure about this?” I asked, scanning the empty highway as I hiked down the back of my shorts. “What if someone drives by and sees us?”
“I’ll be quick,” he assured me, unzipping his jeans and unleashing a thick, nine-incher. Spitting on his cock, he then began to push into me.
“FUCK,” I gasped as Beau split my tight hole in two. With my arms around his neck, he grabbed me by the hips, guiding me to the rhythm that would get him off. “Yeah, fuck my ass,” I moaned, bobbing up and down on his thick shaft. “Fuck my tight hole.”
“You want my cum?” he asked urgently. “You want me to seed your hole?”
“Breed my ass,” I begged, gripping him tighter around his neck. Instantly, a flood of warmth emanated from deep inside me as Beau shot a massive load up my ass.
“Christ, that was good,” he exhaled as I climbed off his cock and pulled up my shorts over my used ass. I lapped up one remaining drop of cum that emerged at the tip of his cock before Beau stuffed his wet, spent dick back into his jeans.
“Shit,” I exclaimed, eyeing the clock on his dashboard. “I’m not gonna make that bus to Chicago if we don’t hurry.”
“Forget the bus,” Beau dismissed while taking my hand, his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t go to Chicago. You could take some classes here at the junior college. And I’ve got a big, lonely bed in a little farmhouse that I’d like to share with you—if you’ll have me.”
“I’d like that,” I replied, holding back tears. “But aren’t you worried about what people around here are gonna say about two guys like us shacked up together?”
“Fuck ‘em. I don’t give a shit what people think about us,” answered Beau as he shifted the truck into drive and made a quick U-turn, hitting the gas hard and racing us home to christen that farmhouse bed.
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
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