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Hypothetical Hitch-Hiker Part 2

My hitch-hiker turns out to be more inquisitive than I could have hoped...
We both positioned our respective underwear in front of us – the outer and less intimate surface of the gussets facing towards us – and Dane lifted mine up to his nose first. I followed his lead, applying the outside of his shorts to my nose even though I would have strongly preferred to have done so with the inner lining, and we both took a few gentle sniffs of the material.

To my surprise, almost immediate, I saw through the corner of my eye that Dane's member was starting to twitch to life. It was lengthening in pulses and slowly rising upwards, like an air bed being blown up in short, steady breaths.

Dane seemed oblivious to surges of life that his organ was revealing and sniffed intently at the front of my pants, turning them this way and that to fully explore and appreciate the odour I'd left on the white material.

I took a few sniffs of his but was far less curious about the smell of his cock than he clearly was about mine.

He pulled back and looked over at me, grinning. "This is actually kind of bizarrely interesting!"

I smiled back at him. "I'm a bum man myself, but I can appreciate the appeal of the front."

He took a few more sniffs and then declared, "It's a really masculine smell – a bit pissy but with a sexy whiff to it too – and totally different from the smell of my own dirty underwear."

"Obviously you like it," I observed.

"Yeah... kind of... but not really in an erotic way."

"Your erection would suggest otherwise, Dane."

His expression turned to surprise and, pulling my briefs away from his face, he peered down at the front of his own underwear. His cock had grown large enough to make a pronounced bulge against the crotch, poking upwards like a thick, stubby rod and lifting the material a good few inches towards his stomach. It probably wasn't hard enough to be properly called an erection, but it had grown large enough for him to blush at the sight of his own unwitting arousal.

"Bloody hell, Rob!" he called out. "I didn't even feel that happening!"

I smiled. "It's a bit like what happened when I sniffed yours."

"That's so weird!"

His expression of shock slowly transformed into a stupefied grin.

I was so pleased I'd persuaded him that we should hitch down our trousers. If I'd believed what he'd said, I'd never have guessed that the smell of my cock had had such an invigorating effect on him.

This was proving most hopeful: far better than I'd dared to imagine.

He looked over at the crotch of my underwear and found, to his obvious disappointment, that my own organ was still stubbornly soft.

"The smell of mine isn't having the same effect on you, then, Rob?"

I shrugged. "Like I said, I'm very much a bum man, Dane."

I turned his briefs inside out so that the staining on the inside of the crotch was garishly obvious. As well as several dried yellow rings of tide-marked piss, there was a crusty patch which looked like it had been used to wipe the last few dribbles of a dwindling climax.

I raised the underpants up to my nose and inhaled strongly from the stained material. His sexual odour was eye-wateringly ripe: rich with the sour sting of his youthful pheromones and heavy with the cloying smack of his pubic sweat.

"I think I saw it grow a bit," he laughed, looking at the bulge my large but drooping cock was making against my underwear.

"It's an interesting smell," I conceded, "and I appreciate the fact you've once again left me a dried-on deposit which is rather whiter than the rest..."

He threw me a naughty chuckle just like my son would when I pointed out evidence of a masturbatory impropriety.

"But the best is round the back," I went on. "At least as far as I'm concerned."

He did the same as I'd done: turned my underpants inside out and examined the inner lining of the crotch which my large genitals had spent a day in close confinement. As I'd noticed at the back of the car, unlike his shorts, my briefs were mainly clean save for a few small patches of discolouration where my cock had leaked after taking a pee.

He seemed to like what he saw, though, and smiled and nodded down at the sagging material. I think he was admiring how stretched it was from being cupped around my generous cock and over-ripe bollocks, perhaps feeling a little envious of how much strain I could put on the front of a pair of Calvins.

He raised them up to his nose and took a sniff of the inside of the gusset, searching the lining with his nose to find its most intoxicating spot. Eventually he settled on a small patch down near the stitching around left leg-hole and inhaled from it appreciatively, pressing the material up close to his nostrils to gain the full effect.

That must have been where the tip of my cock had snuggled into the material, I mused; where my foreskin might have retracted a little, rubbing the more odorous exposed head of my cock against the inside of the gusset.

He closed his eyes and sniffed deeply, and I notice his erection throbbing upwards in its appreciation of my secret scent. His fattening cock-head slowly grew to make a thick, round lump against his underwear as he enjoyed the heady fragrance I'd left on my underwear.

I was probably going to get to wank him off, it occurred to me. The way things were going, and given how horny he was getting, I was more than likely going to get to wrap my fingers around his shaft and pump his foreskin back and forth. We'd smile at each other as I masturbated him faster and faster, both of us enjoying the time-honoured ritual of an older man's hand pleasuring the cock of a younger and more virile male. And then we'd laugh together as he reached his climax, and I'd pretend to be disgusted by having his hot, sticky semen all over my fingers and thumb.

That had to be the very least I was going to get to do with him.

All in good time, though; all in good time.

If I pushed things too quickly, the opportunity to wank him off might be all I would get. But if I played things more carefully, I might yet get to enjoy the more exotic activity that I'd mentioned earlier and he hadn't been prude enough to dismiss out of hand.

After he'd savoured the smell of my briefs to the point at which he wasn't able to extract any further scent from them, he put them back down onto his knees and looked over and grinned at me.

"Obviously you enjoyed that," I commented, glancing at his now extremely noticeable, and imposingly thick, erection.

"Just a bit," he chuckled.

"I'm sorry I didn't leave you a more... er... crusty deposit on them, like you did with me."

He shrugged. "I liked what I smelt – any more might have been too much."

I smiled and turned his briefs over.

"And now for the back," I said, looking down at the strip of material which must have nuzzled into the crack of his arse. It was discoloured in places but not as much as I'd expected.

He looked over at them and winced at the state they were in. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider, mate? I'm normally much cleaner in my habits."

I shook my head. "Happens to us all, Dane. You should see some my son's underwear when he brings his laundry home after a term at university. Yours are almost spotless by comparison."

"At least you're not tempted to sniff his, though," he said with a laugh.

"I can smell it quite unmistakably without having to sniff it," I chuckled back.

I raised Dane's briefs up to my nose and tentatively inhaled from the stained material. As I'd expected, the smell was strong but not offensive. It was undeniably crude and fiercely anal in its unbridled intensity, but there was, combined with that coarse, effluvious odour, a much more exciting and erotic undertone: a sneak preview of this young lad's sexual aroma if he were to indulge me in the most intimate way he could.

I smiled at the thought and felt my cock starting to stir.

Yes, this was the smell I would experience if I was buggering Dane with him bending over in front of me. It was the smell that would fill the car if we were to squat on the back seat together and I was to use his arse so fast and so hard that our pendulous knackers would whack together underneath us.

My cock responded to such musings in the only way it could. Dane laughed at the speed at which it lengthened and thickened, forcing my briefs upwards as it hardened inside them and pushing itself free from where it had been slumbering against my scrotum.

"My bum really gets you going," he grinned.

I smiled back at him, thankful that he hadn't been able to read my thoughts. The picture I'd had in my mind might really have freaked him out.

He peered down at my developing erection through the cotton of my briefs, marvelling at its size. Then he announced, with undisguised admiration, "You're really well-hung, Rob."

"I wish my wife could still get me going as much as these do," I quipped.

He kept staring at it, grinning with wonder, and I turned a little more towards him and pushed my hips outwards so that he could better appreciate how large my growing cock was and how abundantly-filled my bulging balls were.

He looked up at me and smirked naughtily, and for a second I thought he was going to reach out and pull my cock out from my underwear. I'd have liked that, and would have urged him to start masturbating me: the two of us chuckling together as his fist pumped up and down my grateful shaft; gasping as my seed squirted over the windscreen and dashboard.

But if he had been about to reach out and stroke me, he lost his nerve and pulled back, and contented himself with just admiring the view I was presenting him with.

"Why don't you have sniff of my bum?" I asked him when it had become clear he wasn't going to grope me.

He looked up at me, momentarily confused, and I reminded him that I meant on the back of my discarded underwear.

"Oh, right, yeah!" he laughed.

He turned my briefs over so that the rear gusset was facing outwards and inspected them to find they were largely clean.

"You might find that it's not as bad as you're probably expecting," I told him.

"I might lose this, though," he muttered, gesturing towards his own thick, stubby erection pushing the front of his shorts upwards.

"Well, let's see about that..."

He raised the briefs upwards and took a cautious sniff of the material which had spent most of a day nuzzling up between my buttocks. Finding, as I'd anticipated, that it didn't bear the smell he was expecting, he sniffed more intently at them and then pressed them firmly against his nose and inhaled everything he could of my most feral scent.

His cock remained in an upright position – curiously thick and with its blunt, rounded head straining against the material of his underpants – and showed no sign of withering in spite of his initial misgivings.

I considered reaching forwards – as I'd half-thought he had been going to do with me – and fondling him through his underwear, but I worried it would be a step too far.

So instead, I said, "Clearly that's not as grim as you thought it would be. Your cock seems to be rather enjoying all this."

He pulled away and smirked sheepishly over at me. He looked a little embarrassed that he had so visibly enjoyed the smell of the back of an older man's underpants.

He glanced down at his erection and then back at me. "Yeah... I really thought that would be awful... but it was actually kind of... well..."


He tittered at the word. "Maybe... yeah..."

"Smells can be really erotic," I told him. "While I wasn't aroused by the smell of the front of your briefs, the fact you'd... er... pleasured yourself in them made sniffing them a lot more interesting than it would otherwise have been."

He nodded. "Yeah, I can see that now. Actually, maybe it would have been pretty cool to have done the same with yours. If you'd have cum in them, I mean."

Bait nicely taken, I thought.

"Well, the ones you're holding have very little on them expect maybe the odd dribble of piss from where I was stashing my cock away in the gents. I don't remember getting hard in them even once."

He nodded glumly.

"What you need," I went on, "is a pair which I've been aroused in. A pair with precum on them and the wonderfully musky sweat a guy's cock and balls produce when he's feeling turned-on."

"Have you another pair in your holdall?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I only stayed over one night."

We stared at each other for a moment or so before I had the nerve to add, "But the ones I'm wearing now must have a nice sexy whiff to them."

He laughed and immediately shook his head. "I don't want you to take your pants off, Rob! That'd be a step way too far!"

I waved my hands. "I wasn't suggesting that, Dane! You could... er... sniff them with me still wearing them."

"Whoa!" he laughed more loudly. "I don't think so, mate!"

"Come on, it's no different to what we've already done! I'd just sit up a bit and you could have a quick sniff of the front of my briefs. Right here, where my cock's been oozing precum."

He looked down at where I was pointing, where the tip of my cock was pushing upwards against the straining crotch of my underpants. A small wet dribble from my slit signposted exactly where he needed to sniff.

"I dunno..." he said, his resolve clearly starting to waver.

I thought I'd better implant my next suggestion before he had the chance to mentally talk himself out of sniffing my crotch: "I was actually about to ask you if I could do the same – though not with the front of your shorts, of course."

"What?" he asked, his eyes piercing and his expression gripped with curiosity.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'd like to see how much more exciting it would be to have sniff of them while they're as fresh as they're going to get..."

He stared at me with his head slightly to one side, showing how intrigued he was by what I was suggesting.

"You want to sniff my butt?" he eventually asked.

I chuckled. "Not your butt, Dane – just the shorts you're wearing while they're on your butt. The ones I just sniffed were getting a bit stale. I'd be fascinated to try a pair while they're... you know... in situ."

His mouth broke into a small smile: he found the idea of having my face so close to his bum weirdly tempting.

"You'd actually sniff my undies while they're on my arse?" he was eager to establish.

"If you'd let me," I nodded.

"Okay," he agreed, his smile broadening into more of a leer. "I'll sniff your knob where it's made a sticky patch, and you can sniff my butt where my pants have ridden up."

Evidently he'd found himself unexpectedly aroused by the idea of having his arse sniffed. The thought of having a man putting his face down there had probably never even occurred to him, but now that it had, he clearly found he was deeply titillated by it.

"We've got a deal then!" I exclaimed as I raised myself up from my seat and hitched my trousers down a little further to give Dane better access to my crotch.

I turned around to better face him and directed the large bulge of my erection, stretching my briefs expansively, towards him.

He chuckled at the sight of it and I muttered, "Dinner is served!"

Then he leaned forwards and lowered his face towards the huge mound being made by my cock and balls.

He sniffed warily at where the slit of my cock-head was oozing dribble onto the white material. Then he moved his nose around and about the raised prominence that my erection was making, smelling more confidently the varying aromas that the different parts of my swollen organ were producing.

I gently clutched his head with both hands and guided him down to the lower part of my briefs.

"Don't forget my bollocks, Dane," I advised him as his nose worked downwards along the back of my shaft. "They have a smell all of their own!"

I eased his face onto the large paired bulges of my distended balls and he inhaled gratefully from the damp material clinging to my scrotum, clearly enjoying the sweaty fug that had permeated into my briefs combined with the acrid tang of my male pheromones.

He pulled away from my hands and looked up at me, grinning.

"Do you mind if I rub myself while I'm sniffing down here?" he rather cutely asked.

"Of course not!" I laughed. "I'll probably do exactly the same when it's my turn to have a whiff of the back of your shorts!"

He pressed his face back into the twinned mounds of my ball-sack and then reached underneath himself to fondle his own much thicker organ. I smiled as his elbow took up a steady rhythm, his forearm gently working back and forth as his fingers caressed the bulge he was making at the front his underwear.

His nose kept hunting around, searching out the contrasting odours that were infused into the different parts of the material. Some were sharp and cloying, others more rich and potent; but all were replete with the sturdily masculine punch of my aroused genitals – a smell which, for some unaccountable reason, Dane found to be a powerful aphrodisiac.

I grabbed his head again and pressed it against the throbbing rod of my fully-charged cock, grinding myself against him with a slow but firm rhythm. He moaned his approval, all the time gasping for air against the front of my briefs; wallowing in the crude, carnal bite of my erection as it infused the material with its sweat and my precum.

The rubbing of his hand on the front of his shorts became rapidly faster.

I called out to him, "Come on, Dane! Get your dick out and rub it properly! Like you really want to!"

He did as I commanded and fumbled with his shorts. And then, having released himself, started masturbating himself in earnest. I couldn't see his organ – he was still bending over to sniff my crotch – but I could see that his elbow had taken up a much more strenuous rhythm and his forearm was pumping up and down more assertively.

He was still enjoying sniffing different parts of my briefs, by now getting the clear liquid which was oozing through the material from my slit all over his face. It glistened like snail trails on his cheeks as he moved his face around the huge mound of my erection and then he got some of it onto his forehead when he went back down for another sniff of my plump, sweaty balls.

I was tempted to release myself and try and work my cock into his mouth. However, mindful that he'd been freaked out by the idea of sucking my predecessor's cock when he'd first got into my car, I resisted the urge and just allowed him to indulge himself in his enjoyment of my genital smells.

I called out to him, "Go for it, son! Wank yourself off while you sniff my knackers!"

He grunted his appreciation of my coarse language and started pumping his hand faster and faster on his organ which was underneath him. He was panting for breath as he tried to draw out every last trace of smell from my underwear as I ground my over-ripe bollocks into his face.

I pulled his head back upwards towards the material which was obscenely stretched across my pounding hard-on.

"Sniff my cock again, Dane!" I commanded him, pushing him into my swollen manhood. "Rub your face into it!"

He was panting and gasping, snorting and slavering against my underwear as I jabbed my excitement towards him. I held his head firmly and ground my cock against him, working it against his face like I was fucking it through my underwear.

He moaned in encouragement and his wrist started making rapid slapping noises against his hip as he pounded his own organ.

Suddenly, and with a certain amount of alarm, I realised he might be getting close to his climax.

I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back up to face me. His expression was oddly dazed and he looked as if he had been completely immersed in the fervour of his self-gratification.

I put my hand gently on his forearm and stopped him masturbating himself before it was too late.

I smiled at him. "You can keep doing that when you've got my face underneath you."

He looked at me blankly for a moment, still panting, before recognition slowly dawned on his face.

"Oh yeah," he muttered, his voice breathless. "I actually forgot you were going to sniff my butt!"

"I think you were getting a bit carried away!"

He smiled, still catching his breath and with a thin film of sweat forming on his forehead. "You reckon?"

He sat back up on his seat and for the first time I saw how spectacularly thick his erection was, poking out from the waistband of his white shorts with his balls still tucked inside them.

For such an inoffensive young lad who one might assume to be hiding something fairly average in his trousers, his cock was sporting a stunningly hefty shaft. I'd observed when it was in his shorts that it wasn't especially long but I hadn't realised that its girth was so prodigiously fat. It was far too bulky for him even to get his whole hand around. I could imagine many a girlfriend getting quite a surprise when they saw how muff-splittingly wide their cute-looking boyfriend's shlong was.

I said, "Your cock is rather wonderfully thick, Dane."

He smiled at the compliment but then betrayed what was clearly a persistent worry. "Do you think it's too thick?"

"No," I laughed. "Lots of girls will appreciate having someone so – how can I put it? – 'commodious' inside them."

I knew that I certainly would. Just looking at the massive thing, its circumference as wide as a drainpipe, was making my arsehole tingle.

"When I was at school," he said, "my mates used to call me 'Coke can'. I'd tell people it was because my surname's Coburn, but the name kind of emerged in the showers after PE."

I smiled. "My friends used to call me 'Foot long' for similar reasons."

He chuckled and then asked, "How do want to sniff my butt, then?"

Then he laughed at what he'd said and declared: "That wasn't something I ever thought I'd hear myself say!"

I told him to hitch his jeans down a bit and to squat upright on the car seat. In that position he could masturbate himself while I sniffed along the alluring strip of material leading downwards underneath his balls.

"You'll have to open your legs as wide as you can. That way I can get to the... er... goodies!"

He found my euphemistic description of the soiled seat of his shorts quite amusing.

"And you're gonna wank yourself too, aren't you?" he asked, still grinning. "I don't want to be the only one tossing off."

"I fully intend to, Dane."

He looked pleased and nodded.

Then he asked, "Did you ever wank yourself off sniffing the back of your own underwear?"

"Once or twice," I admitted, grossly underestimating the actual incidence.

"When you were my sort of age?"

"No," I replied more honestly. "It's an interest I only recently discovered."

He pulled his trousers down to around his ankles and then sat up on the car seat, positioning himself to squat with his legs wide open as I'd asked him to. He kept his briefs pulled up so I could sniff beneath his balls where the material ran towards his hole, but had his cock poking out from the waistband, still as hard and as thick as when I'd had to pull him away from my briefs.

I noticed that the deep red helmet of it was peculiarly short and stout: its width was actually greater than its length. His slit was so elongated that it almost cleaved his cock-head into two distinct lobes. I could imagine that, when the time came, such an extended opening would be able to deliver a very rapid and abundant outpouring of semen.

He sat as high up against the car seat as he could so that there was room for my head to be pushed between his squatting legs.

With a giggle he asked, "What if I fart?"

I smiled. It was an almost inevitable question given what we were about to do.

"Just don't, please," I replied, in a tone which I hoped would offer no room for ambiguity.

I leaned forwards and started out by sniffing his balls. His scent was so much more attractive for being fresher and stronger. His ball sweat reminded me of the locker rooms at school: they had a richly male odour mixed with faint but distinct traces of piss and semen.

"Do you want me to say stuff to you?" he asked. "Just like you did when it was my turn?"

I nodded, savouring the smell from the damp material covering his scrotum. Right between the mounds of his balls was most fascinating. Here his scent was at its strongest: a wonderful carnival of aromas that brought back surprisingly clear memories of my teens. I was reminded of the changing rooms after PE that we'd just mentioned: to the strong odour of young men's sweaty underwear thrown onto clothes-pegs; to the sharp tang of dribbled urine coming from clammy gussets; to the more intriguing whiff of precum stains and dried-on spunk from some of the more well-worn pairs.

"Sniff my bollocks, man!" he called down to me, before tittering at what he'd just said.

I moaned to encourage him to say more, moving down below his scrotum to sniff at the damper and more odorous material underneath them.

"Sniff the sweat between my legs!" he continued, but this time didn't convey any amusement.

I moved my nose further downwards, along the warm, dank ridge leading from his balls towards his bum, sniffing hungrily as his scent became stronger and more earthy, greatly enjoying the increasing bitter aroma of his underwear as I pushed my face more deeply between his thighs.

I reached for my own briefs and squeezed my cock through the front of them. Dane enjoyed seeing me do that and started wanking himself quite quickly.

"Get your knob out, Rob!" he ordered. "Let's see you tugging it off!"

I did as he'd asked and pulled my large cock out from my briefs. Dane laughed at how well-endowed I was and declared that I had a "fucking massive horse-dick!"

I started yanking my foreskin back and forth and Dane laughed again, perhaps at the sight of an older man masturbating in front of him or perhaps because my technique was so different from what he was used to. His own rhythm sped up on his thicker erection and his wrist started slapping against his thigh again; like a gentle applause to the fun we were having together.

I moved down lower to push my nose between his cheeks, wedging the material of his shorts up into his crack and sniffing at where it had chaffed against his hairy cleft. The smell here was exquisite and my cock swelled in its appreciation, hardening and stiffening in my hand as I wanked it off, the helmet becoming taut and shiny as if to show its approval.

"Sniff my arsehole, man!" Dane called down to me, the smacking of his hand becoming faster as he grew more excited by where my nose was pressing.

I willingly did as he commanded and inhaled deeply from his most flavoursome spot, hearing my heart beating heavily in my ears at how deliciously pungent he was back here, and feeling my cock straining to grow even larger at how excited I was becoming.

Dane pushed forwards and struggled to open his legs more widely, using his free hand to shove my head further between his legs and trying to push my face into his gaping arse crack. He wanted to get my nose and mouth as close as he possibly could to the hole he'd probably never given very much thought to until today.

"Get your nose stuck into my butt!" he called out. "Fucking sniff it, man! Fucking go for it!"

To surprise him, I eased my tongue out of my mouth and worked it between the hem of his underwear and the hairy crack of his right buttock. I found his most sensitive spot quite quickly and ran the tip of my tongue around it.

Dane called out, "Oh, Jesus, yeah! Lick my hole, dude!" and struggled again to reposition himself to give me better access.

Finding he liked being rimmed, I grew in confidence, and pressed my tongue quite firmly against his tight, sticky ring. It yielded and I entered his hot, slimy anus, lapping in and out to stimulate him in one of the most intense ways I knew to be possible.

His masturbatory rhythm stopped and he pushed me back as he yanked down his white shorts.

He called out, "Fucking eat me, man! Lick my arsehole out!"

And then he grabbed my head again and slammed his arse down onto my face, roughly grinding my face into the wet, hairy forest of his gaping crack.

"Lick me out, dude! Come on, eat my butt!"

I did as he was asking of me, feasting voraciously on his crude and intoxicating orifice. I had my tongue burrowing up into his bowels, gently sweeping it back and forth against the soft folds inside his anus and tasting with relish the dribbles of his powerful rectal fluids trickling into my mouth. All the time, I was marvelling at how forthright he was for a novice and making repeated mental notes to remember to give him my phone number when we parted.

He was wanking himself off as fast as he could, his balls slapping against my chin as I rimmed him as deeply and as forcefully as my position would allow. My nose was wedged into his hairy and strong-smelling crack and my tongue was almost completely buried in the tight ring of his virgin hole.

"Come on, fucking suck it!" he called out, through panting breaths. "Suck my arsehole!"

Once again, I did as he was imploring me and, taking my tongue out from his anus, puckered my lips against the puckered ring of his hole. Then I sucked at his entrance like I was drinking milkshake through a straw: drawing out the full, unbridled impact of his arse juices into my mouth and pumping my own cock faster and faster at the sheer pleasure I was experiencing in doing so.

"Ah, yeah!" he shouted. "Fucking wank it, man! Wank your cock off while you suck my arsehole!"

He watched me masturbating my large erection hard and fast, and then had a better idea and told me he was going to do it for me.

I took my hand away from my organ and he replaced it with his, quickly taking up his own rhythm on it. His masturbatory technique was rougher and less refined than mine, but it felt wonderful to have a younger man's hand tending to my swollen erection.

"Your cock feels so fucking hard!" he marvelled. "I can't believe you're so into this!"

I let him wank me for a minute or so, with my mouth still clamped to his anal ring, captivated by how it was steadily becoming inflamed from being so energetically sucked. I was hugely enjoying the feel of his fingers jerking at my foreskin, as awkward was they were, and was becoming more and more excited by things he was calling down to me.

"You are so fucking turned on, dude!" he was gasping. "You are so loving sucking my arse!"

Realising that his own cock was now without stimulation, I pulled back from his arse and from the hand he'd been holding my head with and bobbed my face up above his balls to take a look at it. It was standing upwards with red marks on its thick girth from where he'd been masturbating it. It looked lonely being unattended to and, as much as I had adored licking and sucking his arse, I immediately knew what I would prefer to do.

I craned my neck further upwards and took his thick, stubby shaft into my mouth, sucking his organ as hard as I'd sucked his arsehole to draw out the precum from his elongated slit. In comparison to what I'd just been feasting on from his bum, it tasted blissfully sweet and fragrant and I gulped the dribbles of it down gratefully as I consumed all six inches of his eager erection.

"Ah, yeah!" he cried out. "Suck my fucking root, man!"

And then, groaning in encouragement, he grabbed the back of my head and pushed my face more firmly onto his cock. I took him all – it wasn't difficult to consume his full length but his massive girth was quite a strain on my jaw muscles – and he started thrusting his hard shaft in and out of my lips.

"That's right, mate! Eat my fat knob!" he called out to me, through frantic gasps, holding my head steady while he roughly fucked my face.

Ever since I'd started playing around with guys, I hadn't been especially keen on sucking their cocks. I'd never fully understood the appeal of working a penis with my lips and tongue, and having another man buck his erection in and out of my mouth had always made me feel like I'd been reduced to the role of a masturbatory aid.

However, receiving Dane's thick shaft as he slammed it back and forth turned out to be a far more pleasant activity than any I'd previously experienced. I was fascinated to have such a huge girth over-filling my mouth and prizing my jaw almost painfully open. I loved the feel of having the top of his shaft battering against the roof of my gaping mouth while at the same time the thickly ridged underside slid frantically to and fro along my pinned-down tongue.

If only I could have enjoyed having such a thick cock thrusting so amply up my willing arse!

I allowed Dane to pound in and out of me, both of his hands holding my head as steady as he could in front of his hammering crotch. His balls were slamming roughly against my chin and his pubic hair was ramming back and forth, bristling with each lunge against my nose and into my eyes.

"Suck my fucking cock!" he called out, somewhat unnecessarily: I was already engaged in exactly that had no intention of doing otherwise.

As his hand beat up and down the length of my cock, I worked one of my fingers into his hot, wet arsehole, still slick and swollen from being so extensively rimmed. He moaned with pleasure at the intrusion, and his anus eased open, perhaps without Dane even being aware of it, to willingly draw me into him. His bum seemed to want to feed on my finger, hungrily consuming it and squeezing itself around it, and he grunted at how intense it felt to have his cock sucked and his arse fingered at the same time.

"Come on – work it, Rob! Fucking wank my arse off!"

I slid my finger up and down the length of his tight, slimy chute and he started panting like a sprinter at how incredible it felt. His rhythm against my face rapidly intensified and I wondered if, like me, his excitement was being stoked by the strongly carnal smell coming from his rectum as my finger squelched in and out of it.

"I'm gonna cum, mate! I'm gonna squirt!" he helpfully informed me, just before his hot, salty liquid started splashing against the back of my throat.

I don't know if he'd ever climaxed with a finger sliding in and out of his bum, but a succession of astonished gasps suggested that he hadn't.

I drank down everything he could give me, enjoying how harsh and alkaline this young man's semen tasted and how much more astringent it was than that of older men who I'd previously attended to in this way.

His anus was spasming and convulsing around my finger, kneading it like it was bread dough as the muscles of his bowels enjoyed their own peculiar variant on his orgasm.

He called down to me, "Fucking yeah!" and worked himself against my finger as his cock continued discharging itself into my mouth.

As I was gulping down squirt after squirt of his seed, the irony that I was doing to him what he'd refused to do to the impatient cock of his earlier driver was a source of some amusement. I found myself smiling as I fed on his outpouring of sperm, loving the sensation of it pulsing in surges against the back of my throat, as I remembered how outraged he'd been at the thought of doing exactly what I was doing in return for a lift.

"Wank my arse!" he commanded me, through panting breaths. "Fucking wank it hard!"

I resumed my rapid fingering of his shuddering rectum, wondering if all his orgasms were as copious as this one. I would have to remember to inform him later that one didn't ordinarily 'wank' an arse: one could finger it, yes, or even frig it, but the verb 'wank' wasn't customarily extended to include anal stimulation.

After his climax had subsided, I pulled away from his cock and looked up at his face. He grinned down at me and, to see his reaction, I withdrew my finger from his bum and sniffed it. Finding the smell of it very much to my liking, I licked my tongue back and forth along its sticky shaft and then grinned back up at him to show him how much I appreciated the taste

He laughed to see someone so gratuitously cleaning the finger they'd just had inside his bum and a large dribble of white semen oozed from the stout head of his fat cock as if to offer its own endorsement. I licked that too – as one would lick at a melting ice-cream – and then told him that I was going to eat his arse again.

"Fucking go for it!" he grinned. "I'll wank you off while you do it!"

His hand started roughly yanking my foreskin again and I returned my tongue to the hole my finger had just vacated.

It was in this position, with me lapping at his wrinkled arsehole which had tightened into a post-orgasmic clench, that my own cock started spurting over his clumsily pumping hand.

He laughed as I started cumming – which is always a little off-putting, I find – and immediately took his hand away to start hunting around for a tissue instead of milking my organ until I'd fully spent myself as I would have strongly preferred.

As we were cleaning ourselves up and I was wiping down the gearstick of the car (his own semen having been more efficiently disposed of), Dane's mood seemed to take a downward turn and he steadily became more quiet and sullen. We put the underwear we'd sniffed away in silence and, with him staring broodily out of the passenger window, I reversed out of the space I'd been parked in.

It was black dark by now and the road was deserted as I pulled out of the car park.

"If you're gonna chuck me out, mate, at least take me to the main road," Dane said quietly once we were driving through the forest again.

I glanced over at him, his face lit up eerily in the green glow from the dashboard and with his eyes staring sullenly straight ahead at the road.

"Why would I want to chuck you out?" I asked.

"Now you've done what you probably set out to do when you picked me up," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"I picked you up because you looked cold, Dane. It was you who first introduced the subject of sex into our conversation."

"I didn't!" he retorted, his voice suddenly heavy with emotion. "You were the one who asked to sniff my dirty kecks!"

I smiled over at him, taking the same conciliatory approach that I would use with my son when he was similarly agitated.

"You told me that your previous lift had wanted a blowjob from you. Our chat about what a hypothetical hitch-hiker might offer his driver to thank him for the lift developed, as I remember it, at your insistence."

He went quiet again, glowering ahead of us at the road, his eyes looking more hurt than angry in the cold glow from the dashboard.

I started to wonder if he really did want me to drop him off; if he wanted the excuse to get out of the car for some fresh air and to work through in his own head what he'd just got himself into.

I thought I'd try a different technique.

"If you're not comfortable to be around me, given what we've just done, I'll drop you off at the motorway junction we originally agreed on. Once we're out of the National Park, it's just a few miles before we get there."

He stayed quiet for a good five minutes or so, no doubt weighing up the pros of being dropped off early against the cons of having to wait for another lift. For all he knew, his next driver might make yet further demands in return for a lift.

Eventually, I thought it best to break the silence by saying, "I was actually hoping we could exchange phone numbers, Dane."

"If you think you're gonna get a repeat performance, Rob, you're barking up the wrong tree."

He was trying to sound hostile but the unsteadiness of his voice betrayed that he was still mainly upset.

I glanced over at him and told him, "We both enjoyed what we did – we both went into it very willingly – and there'd be no harm in us meeting up again once you feel ready for it."

He shook his head defensively. "No way, mate. It won't happen. I'm into girls – I'm totally straight. I don't know why I did what I just did. I haven't got a fucking clue, to be honest."

I nodded. "I'm straight too. Like I told you, I've been married."

It was certainly true that I'd been married. I just wasn't any more.

"I've always been curious," I went on, "to try some stuff with other men. Unlike you, I don't feel guilty about it – I actually would like to try some other things now that I know how much I enjoy it."

He shook his head again, and it seemed that what I'd said had made his mind up for him. He didn't want to hear me trying to justify what we'd done: he'd decided that he wanted to forget about it and pretend it had never happened.

"You can drop me off at the motorway junction," he curtly informed me. "I'll phone my mum if I can't get a lift."

Usually when guys have had a few minutes to recover from what they perceive to be their first 'gay' experience, they gradually bounce back from their initial misgivings and are soon able to put things into perspective.

Not Dane, though.

Considering how upbeat he'd been immediately after his climax – he'd laughed when I'd started cumming, for Christ's sake – the more time that passed after the event, the deeper into bitter self-recrimination he seemed to plunge.

When I dropped him off at a layby near the motorway roundabout, I hastily scribbled my mobile phone number onto the back of a petrol receipt. At first he refused to take it, but when I insisted and kept holding it out towards him, he snatched it from me and tersely thanked me for the ride.

As I drove away, I watched him through the rear-view mirror as he went through the obviously pointed gesture of scrunching up the paper I'd given him and throwing it into the gutter. He looked up at my rear-view mirror after he'd done so: he'd wanted me to see his opinion of me.

"Whatever," I thought as I signalled right at the roundabout to head back out into the countryside and towards home.


A few days later I heard my phone beep at work with a text message and, thinking it was from my son asking me to record some programme for him on the Sky box, I waited until I'd got home and had poured myself a glass of wine before I sat down to look at it.

It turned out it was from an unknown number and it read: Soz I got freaked, Rob. Not ur fault. Hope all ok. Dane.

I smiled. It was rather sweet in a way.

I texted back, taking the time to spell words fully and punctuate correctly in a way that inexplicably infuriates my son.

Hello Dane. I thought you threw my number away!

I waited a few minutes before my phone beeped again.

I did but then chnged my mind. Glad I did!

I imagined him waiting at the junction for his mum to drive over and pick him up, gradually starting to feel less ashamed of what he'd done until the compulsion to go back to the side of the road to pick up the paper he'd discarded became too strong.

I mulled over what to say in reply but before I'd been able to come up with anything that didn't sound either too flippant or too mushy, my phone beeped again with another incoming message.

If a guy needed lift back to uni, would you b up 4 having a hitch hiker in ur car again?

I chuckled. A ride for a ride, perhaps?

I felt I could be a little bolder in my response.

Of course, Dane. But what would this hypothetical hitch-hiker be willing to do for his driver in return?

He sent me a grinning face with the tongue sticking out before a proper message came in: He could bring his dirty laundry!

I had to laugh at that. Weren't students supposed to take their dirty laundry home with them from uni, not the other way around?

I sent a smiley face back. I was pleased that Jake, my son, had taught me how to text. I would never have imagined that the skill would prove so valuable.

Within a few seconds, the phone beeped again. U up 4 it then?

I keyed in my message: Very much so.

I'll be at same m-way jnctn u dropped me off. Sun 3 pm. That ok?

I chuckled at his reply. He wasn't prepared to give me his address: that would be a step too far for now.

Fine by me, I texted back. Looking forward to the scenic route.

I got another grinning face and then a final, C u on Sun Rob!

I took a long drink of my wine and then beamed at the smiley face he'd sent me as if it was Dane himself I was looking at.

How far would my hypothetical hitch-hiker let me take him this time?
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