A Ride In The Rain – Gay Hand Job Sex Stories

by b100dr00t (b100dr00t@yahoo.com)

***

A college freshman hitchhikes home in the rain and is
picked up by a traveling salesman who teaches an
introductory class called Hand-job 101. (MM, exh, 1st-
gay-expr, mast)

***

I went to college about 75 miles from my home. About
once a month I would go home for the weekend, bringing
my laundry with me in a battered brown case that once
belonged to my father. I’m sure my mother noticed the
dried pale yellow stains on my T-shirts and briefs but
mercifully never said a word.

Because I didn’t own a car, I had to take a couple of
busses, and then hitchhike the remaining 30 miles.
Back in those days, hitchhiking was more common and
safer. And so, one cold, rainy November night, I found
myself standing beside the highway at my last bus
stop. My breath mixed with the unrelenting drizzle and
after half-an-hour I wondered if I’d ever catch a
ride. But after another fifteen minutes a big, late-
model Chrysler pulled over. I opened the rear door and
tossed in my case, then got into the front seat.

“Helluva night for hitchhiking!” said the driver. He
was a tall, heavily-built man, about 45 years old and
well-dressed.

“It sure is!” I said. “Thanks for stopping.”

He didn’t bother to introduce himself, and neither did
I. He asked where I as headed and when I told him, he
said that dropping me off at my home would take him
just a few miles out of his way. He explained that he
was a travelling salesman and made a trip through this
part of the state about every two weeks. Following an
awkward silence, he offered me a hip flask he’d been
holding between his thighs.

“Maybe this will take the chill off,” he said. “And
this might help, too” he said as he turned up the heat
and directed most of it to my side of the car.

“Thanks,” I said, and apprehensively took a small swig
from the flask. The whisky was like liquid fire and I
almost choked, but managed to swallow it.

“Don’t be shy,” the man said. “I’ve got a fifth in my
suitcase that I can always refill the flask from.” So
I took another swig, and noticed I was indeed
beginning to warm up. I handed the flask back to him
and he took a swig himself.

“You need to know something about me right off the
bat,” he said. “I’m very direct, some might say
blunt… and nosy, too! But you don’t have to answer
any of my questions if you don’t want to. I get lonely
on the road, and this is a rare opportunity to talk.
Are you O.K. with that?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied. “So what do you want to
know?”

“Well, for starters,” he said, “what’s in the case?
Laundry for your mom to wash?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“And will she find some strange, crusty stains on it?”
he asked.

“What the hell kind of question is that?!” I said. He
reminded me that he was direct, blunt and nosy and
that I shouldn’t be shocked.

“Look,” he said, “when I was your age, I jerked off a
lot, and my mom probably washed a ton of underclothes,
sheets and pillowcases just like yours. It’s no big
deal, okay? We’re a couple of strangers who will never
see each other again, so why not level with me?”

“Okay,” I replied. “You’re right, most of what’s in
that case has dried semen on it.”

Next he asked me how often I jerked off, where and
when, an so on. My initial apprehension had somehow
diminished, probably due to the whisky, but also due
to his remark that we’d never see each other again. So
I answered each of his questions less and less
reluctantly, even though they grew progressively more
personal and probing.

“What’s your cock like?” he asked. By then this kind
of question didn’t faze me.

“What do you mean?” I replied. “It’s like everybody
else’s, I suppose, except probably smaller.”

He said that he wanted to know if I was cut or uncut,
terms I’d never heard before, so he had to explain
what the terms meant. I told him that I was cut and he
said that he was too. He took another swig from his
flask and offered me some. I took another swig too, by
now somewhat used to the burn and actually enjoying
the mild buzz I was developing.

“If I showed you my cock, would you show me yours?” he
asked. “You don’t really know yours is smaller than
average unless you’ve got something to compare it
against, right? Whaddya say?”

I hesitated. This was getting very strange. But while
I hesitated, he took his foot of the gas so he could
brace both feet on the floor. Lifting his hips off the
seat, he unzipped and pulled out his semi-erect cock.

“There,” he said. “Take a good look. Then when you’re
ready, whip yours out.”

I stared at his 8-inch cock for about 10 seconds
before summoning the nerve to unzip and expose mine,
which looked miniscule in comparison. Then I started
looking at his cock again. We drove in silence for
half-a-mile while he darted glances at my cock. The
driving rain didn’t allow him to take his eyes off the
road for too long.

“Would you mind moving over towards me some more?” he
asked. “I’d really like to have a good look at that
cock of yours.” So I slid towards the middle of the
front seat, all the while watching his cock and
wondering what the guy was up to. I soon found out.

“Will you look at that rain outside?! Man oh man, it’s
coming down in sheets!” he said, gesturing toward the
passenger-side window with his thumb. I turned my head
to look and that’s when I felt his right hand seize my
cock in a tight, almost painful grip.

Before I could say anything, he said, “Okay, kid, just
relax. Don’t struggle and don’t try to pull away. I’m
not going to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I’m going
to make you feel really good. But that’s only if you
cooperate. We’re still a long ways from your home, and
I could dump you out here in the middle of nowhere if
I felt like it. Think how tough it would be to catch
another ride out here.”

He was right. I stayed still and thought about what
he’d said. Meanwhile, he loosened his grip slightly,
and I could feel my cock responding to his touch,
growing harder and twitching occasionally.

“See that, kid?” he said. “Your cock can think better
than your brain can. So I’m ready for your answer.
Will you do as I say or will you take your chances out
there?”

“I’ll do what you say,” I replied. I had no idea what
this guy had in mind, but the thought of being cold
and wet all over again wasn’t an alternative now.

“O.K.” he said. “What I want is to find someplace out
of this rain where we can have some undisturbed fun.
So do you know someplace around here we could park
without being bothered?”

By now we were close enough to my home that I knew my
way around. I said that if we drove another two miles
and turned right on a dirt road, we’d soon come to an
abandoned farm. The barn was still standing, and one
of the sliding doors had fallen off years ago. There
wasn’t any farm machinery parked inside, so we could
drive right in and park undetected for as long as he
liked.

“That’s great!” he said, finally letting go of my cock
after giving it a last playful squeeze. He told me to
start getting ready by undressing and stowing my
clothes in the back seat. I did as I was told,
actually grateful to get out of my soaked clothes. The
warm air blasting from the car’s heater felt good.

Soon enough we arrived at the barn. The salesman drove
in and killed the lights. He told me to get out and
leave the passenger side door open. While I stood
outside the car in the cold, damp air, he went back to
the trunk and retrieved a bath towel from his
suitcase. Then he sat on the passenger side facing out
through the door, with his legs spread apart. He
motioned for me to stand between his legs and rest my
forearms on the car’s roof.

He spread the towel over his legs and the front of his
suit, about halfway up his chest. Then he reached for
my now-shriveled cock and began to stroke it. I didn’t
resist; it was pointless, and the longer he stroked
the less inclined I was to resist.

“In addition to enjoying this, I want you to pay
attention to what I’m doing and how I’m doing it,” he
said. “Because after you cum, I’d like you to make me
cum the same way.”

“But I’ve never done that, or anything like that in my
life!” I protested.

“Listen, kid, it’s easy. You’ve already admitted you
jerk off, so jerking off another guy shouldn’t be all
that different. But for now, relax and enjoy what I’m
doing to you.”

And I did. My cock grew progressively harder, and the
sweet, tickling sensations stronger. As he stroked, I
was aware of the dried dirt of the barn floor beneath
my bare feet, the lingering aroma of manure from cows
long gone, and the hooting of an owl in the forest
behind the barn.

The sensations in my cock brought me out of my
reverie. “I’m gonna cum,” I hissed and so he began
stroking harder and faster, bringing me to a climax
that spurted a surprising amount of cum on the towel
covering his lap, more than I’d ever produced on my
own.

“Attaboy!” the salesman said. “That was a spectacular
load for a kid your age and size. How did it feel? Did
you enjoy that?”

I had to admit I did. I laid my forehead on the cool
metal of the car roof, waiting for my breathing and
heartbeat to subside to a more normal rate. While I
was recovering, he slid back into the car and got out
on the driver’s side. I heard the clink of his belt
buckle as he undressed. Once he was naked, he came
around to the passenger side and told me to sit down
where he did. When I asked for the towel he said “No,
I want to cum on you. You can wipe it off later.”

He stood between my parted thighs and I saw his
massive cock clearly for the first time. The
excitement of jerking me off had clearly affected him,
because the glans already glistened with pre-cum. I
grasped his cock and began awkwardly stroking it. He
told me what felt best and I adjusted my grip or
stroke, following his suggestions. Soon I could feel
the tension and pulsing of his cock as he approached
his own climax.

“Okay kid,” he grunted. “Get ready, ’cause I’m gonna
cum any second now!”

And cum he did. Huge ropes of sperm that landed on my
stomach and thighs, one even landing on my own cock. I
was strangely proud of what I’d done and envious of
how much the man could spurt. The salesman rested just
as I had done and I watched his cock grow flaccid,
oozing a final bead of cum that sagged and hung from a
translucent thread before dropping onto the dirt
floor.

After he recovered, the salesman walked back to the
open trunk and got some moist wipes to clean me off.
He told me to get dressed and he got dressed himself.
We both got into the car and sat there for several
minutes without speaking.

Finally, the salesman said, “I really enjoyed that. I
hope you did too.”

“I did,” I replied, “both times.”

He nodded, started the car, and backed out onto the
dirt road. We didn’t talk again until we got about a
mile from my home. Then he asked if I’d like to do
this again sometime. I surprised myself by saying that
I would. We made arrangements to meet later back in
the town where I went to college. What happened next
is another story.

END

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *