THE HITCH HIKER By Nigel Dean

I do need to be careful and to protect his identity so for the sake of telling you these events I will call him Phil.  I’m also going to change the location and timing a little but not the main essence of the story.  So here we go.

It was the summer before my last year at university, I was at Cambridge reading English - nothing exciting in that.  I was broke and so took a job for the summer collecting and delivering cars all over the country for a transport agency, it was slave labour but it was cash in the hand and I could work each day for as long as I liked.  Nobody appeared to worry too much about safety just as long as the cars were collected and delivered.  To be honest it was something of a cowboy operation and after a couple of weeks I was giving serious thought to working the rest of the summer in McDonald’s or delivering pizzas.

The last straw came late one Friday afternoon.  I had delivered a car to a dealer north of Peterborough and was due to pick up another car then deliver it to near where I lived but I hadn’t even got it out of the forecourt when the engine went bang in a cloud of smoke and oil.  That car was dead and wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was I !  I called into the control and they expressed sympathy telling me I would have to make my own way home.  Over fifty miles on a Friday afternoon and all I had was a tenner in my pocket.

“Stuff you,”  I said, “and come Monday you can stuff your job as well !”

It was water off a ducks back, this agency got through more drivers in a week than I had changes of underpants so a stroppy student wasn’t going to bother them one tiny little bit.  But it made me feel better even if it did little to help me get home.

Only one thing to do, I would have to hitch. You’ve probably seen guys standing by the side of the road with their red and white motor trade plates trying to cadge a lift, next time you see one take some pity on him - that was how I ended up that Friday afternoon.  It looked as if nobody was going to stop as car after car, van after van and lorry after lorry sped by.  I was getting well pissed off and angry.  My parents were away for a week so there wasn’t even going to be a meal waiting for me when I got in knackered and hungry.  I was cursing my lot when finally a car did stop.

When hitch-hiking like this it is usually commercial transport drivers who appreciate your predicament and pull up, occasionally a car driver but not very often.  When a car does stop it will be a sales rep or someone who earns a living out on the road, very, very seldom a private driver.  The vehicle that pulled up for me that Friday was a smart blue Mercedes sports job,  at least I was going to travel in some style.  I sprinted to the car which had pulled up slightly ahead of me with its orange hazard lights flashing.

“Thanks mate,”  I said, “I’m trying to get to Bedford.”

“Jump in.”

The car was being driven by a lad about my own age.  He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt, tight lycra shorts and was driving barefooted.

“I’m not doing much," he said, " I can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Cheers !”  I was very grateful and told him of my predicament with the broken down vehicle and being stranded way from home.

“So is this your job then - driving ?”  He asked.

I explained about being a student, being broke, the summer job and how I was quitting on Monday to fry hamburgers instead.  I told him about my being at university and my ambition to become a journalist.

“So what kind of job do you have then to be able to drive a motor like this ?”  I asked.

“Me ?  I just a spoilt little rich boy,”  he smiled.

I didn’t quite know how to answer that then decided upon, “Nice work if you can get it.  I guess.”

His did not respond to my answer but said, “I’m Phil by the way.”

“I’m Nigel.”

Phil then told me a little of himself, how he was bored and had just taken the drive to cruise about in the sunshine.  He didn’t have a job but bummed round doing very little.

“My name won’t mean much to you but if I tell you who my Dad is you may get the picture.”

When he gave me the name I was taken aghast.  I would have thought it a wind up but the way he spoke, almost apologising for his parentage, made me believe him without question.

“Bloody hell.”  It was all I could manage.

“I tell you Nigel, it can be bloody hell at times !  That’s why I’m out on the road escaping from life, the open road, if you will forgive the cliché, and stuff the lot of them. I was out yesterday and feeling dead low, you know what I did.  ?”

“No ?”

“I stripped off and drove for fifty miles totally naked.”  He laughed.  “Nobody saw me, unfortunately,  but I felt I was putting my fingers up to the world.  Problem is when you are sitting in a car nobody can actually see inside while you are moving so nobody saw me even though there was a fair bit of traffic on the road.  I thought about speeding and trying to get a cop car to stop me but didn’t.  Still I can always try that another time.  Hey, I can picture my Dad’s reaction and visualise the tabloids when they get hold of the story - which I, of course,  would make sure they did !”

“You actually drove round in this car naked ?”

“I sure did, everything hanging out and nothing concealed.  But then these shorts don’t leave all that much to the imagination do they ?”

It was by instinct that I looked and saw the bulge and outline before suddenly turning my eyes and feeling embarrassed.

“So what do you think, can you better that Nigel ?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come along, don’t be shy you must know your own dick size !”

I guessed that I was probably similar to Phil  and said so.

“Tell you what,”  Phil said.  “If you are bigger than me we’ll stop and I’ll buy us both a slap up meal at a pub I know down the road.”

“What if I am not ?”

“Then I’ll still buy us a slap up meal at a pub I know down the road.”  He laughed.

It was strange, there I was in a car with a guy who although a total stranger was the son of an icon and we were discussing our relative dick sizes, just stalling for time until we actually got them out and undertook the suggested study.  It was also strange that I wanted to do what Phil was suggesting, a bit of harmless fun - I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.  I wasn’t hard on and didn’t feel anything sexual at that point but it would be a laugh.  After the time I’d been having a laugh was what I needed.

“You sure nobody can see inside the car as we drive ?”

“So how many crotches have you seen in other vehicles over the past hour ?”

“Ok then,”  I found myself saying.  “If I’m bigger than you - you pay.”

“Yep,”  Phil confirmed, “and if I’m bigger than you I pay.”

“Right.”

I unbuttoned my jeans and teased down the zip of my fly.  I eased them down onto my legs then pulled down the front of my underpants.  My still limp dick flopped out.”

“Very nice,”  Phil said, “but man you look a bit tired.  Hang on.”

He turned into a lay-by and snatched on the hand brake.  “Difficult to take them off while I’m driving.”

Within seconds he had his shorts right off, flung them into the space behind his seat and sped back onto the road.  “Come on Nigel, get them things right off.”

I did as I was told and so there we were both naked from the waist down driving along the A1 from Peterborough to Bedford in a Mercedes.

“I reckon you are a tiny bit bigger than me,”  Phil said, “So I guess I have to pay.”

We drove on laughing.  Phil flicked his left hand against the steering column, there came the loud tick of the car’s indicator and we were slowing down.  Ahead I could see a pub with a large and quite full carpark. I scrambled in the confined passenger seat hastily attempting to cover myself up.

“Don’t panic,”  Phil laughed.  

When we pulled up he slowly attended to his own attire.  I was worried that somebody would see him but he just didn’t care.

Safely inside we found a corner table and studied the menu.  “It’s only bar food this time of day,”  Phil explained, “but it is first class plus.”

He was right and I was hungry having been out on the road all day.  Obviously the staff in the pub knew Phil and we received swift and attentive service.  We chatted and I found myself warming to my new friend but I knew this would be a single encounter, I was being a bit reserved and didn’t appear to want to be expressing anything which would appear to be my conjuring a friendship simply because of who Phil was.

“Back there,”  he said a little shyly, “you don’t think I was being a tart do you ?”

“Nah,”  I smiled, “It was a laugh.”

“I just do crazy things some times.”

Phil went on to explain how he didn’t have any friends and lived a life rather contained within his father’s celebrity bubble. “When I was at school the guys I would have like to be friends with steered clear of me, they were the genuine ones who didn’t want to take advantage while there were others who swarmed all over me and I was always having to tell them to piss off.  They didn’t want to make friends just to be known to be a part of my circle.  Truth is you could have put my circle on a pin-head !”

He went on to tell me that he wanted to get a job and to work like any other guy.  “I wasn’t bright enough for university like you but I did rather fancy art college.  I love photography and would have liked to study that then get a job with my camera.”

“What kind of pictures do you take ?”

“Anything that takes my eye.”

“Such as ?”

“Want to see some ?”

“Sure.”

I thought he meant that he had a collection in the car but no, he meant for me to go back to his home and see them.  And what a home !  A security post protected the main gate and long drive down to a rambling mansion.  The car wheels cracked along the gravel drive.

“Is … ?”

“No,”  Phil replied. “God knows where he is, could be anywhere in the world.  I see more of him on the TV than I do face to face.”

But the house wasn’t empty, there were several members of domestic staff about all of whom were very discrete and said nothing to either of us.  Phil took me up a flight of stairs and along a wide landing area to his room.  Well, more than a room a suite.  He showed me round a bedroom, living area, kitchen diner and a bathroom with vast sunken jacuzzi.

“This is all yours ?”

“Yep, this is my own space, nice but rather solitary.  Not always that good being a poor little rich kid.”  Although Phil was making light and joking I knew he was telling the truth and I felt sorry for him.

His photographs, many of which were framed and hung on the living room wall, were quite stunning.  Just ordinary, everyday scenes and poses but caught with an eye of magic.

“They are brilliant,”  I exclaimed.  “You’d have no problem getting work as a photographer.”

“Perhaps.”

"No, I mean it.  Can't your father help you get started ?"

"He would if I asked him I figure but he's probably say what would I want money for and give me another cheque."

I continued to look at the pictures for some time until Phil said he needed to get changed.  “These shorts are getting a bit too tight.  Think I’ll take a dip in the jacuzzi.”

I took this to be a preliminary conversation towards my leaving and I wondered how the hell I was going to get home.  I didn't even know where I was. Then things made a turn in a new direction.

“Fancy joining me ?  That’s if I’m not being a tart again.”

“No, I mean yes I’d love to experience that jacuzzi - it looks great and no you’re not being a…”

Before I could finish he said, “Thanks.  You are a good type of guy Nigel.”

This time we were totally naked and although I was not yet aroused I was beginning to feel something of a slight physical attraction towards my new friend.    No that isn’t right, there was nothing slight about it the attraction was much more.  I found myself looking at his body when we undressed and I wanted him to look at mine.  I wanted Phil and I wanted him to want me.  Want in every physical sense of the word.

The water filled and the pumps came into action.  We stepped in and sat close to each other.  Phil placed a hand against the side of my thigh, it felt good.  Yes it felt good.  He paused there and when assured I wasn’t going to object moved it to the top of my leg.  Now I was beginning to feel aroused, there was a heavy feeling building between my legs.  I’d played about with a couple of guys before and had always been a bit curious about those of my own sex but this was different, I wanted things to continue. I wanted to continue a long way.  I turned my head and looked into Phil’s eyes.  Slowly our faces moved closer together, slowly, slowly.  Then with a burst of sudden speed we were kissing, first a peck then a deep throatal embrace.

I moved my hand and felt for Phil’s cock which was now sporting a solid hard on.  I took a hold of it in a clenched fist and moved my hand up and down a couple of times.  His hand gently caressed my balls then rested on the inside of my thigh.  I was going to wank this guy.  I’d never actually touched a guys cock before and the new experience was electric.  I was actually going to wank another guy.  Bloody brilliant.  I was truly holding another guy’s cock and he was letting me do it, he was going to let me wank him.  My mind whirled and spun in a totally new orbit.

My grip tightened and I began to drag my hold down stretching the skin as far down the shaft as I could.  Then it moved upwards pulling everything the opposite way and dragging the foreskin up and over the head.  The movements were slow but very determined and full of masculine strength.  Phil pushed himself towards me and moved to stand up.  I stood up before him the water of the jacuzzi now bubbling below us and reaching just to above our knees.  I was oblivious to it, oblivious to the room about us: there were just the two of us together in a single unit of space and time.

I continued my work and Phil moaned softly.  His eyes were closed and his head slightly back.  “You don’t know how I have dreamed that one day a guy would do this to me,”  he whispered.  “Please don’t stop.”

I didn’t intend to.  My slow beat quickened and I knew I was rising a sap within him.  Faster now his cock firmly in my hand and throbbing in response.  Faster still and then he screamed loud with delight as he squired forth a fountain, then a second, third, fourth - each with the same force and magnitude as before.  I stopped counting as things went on until finally he was spent.

Phil sank back into the water then turned his back on me, knelt on the small seat with his hands on the tiled area outside the bath.  His peach bum was presented to me, presented for just one thing.  I should have been hesitant but I wasn’t.  I had absolutely no idea how to go about satisfying the fiery urge within me but could not pause.  I had to continue, hell I wanted to continue.  My cock was solid, upright and eager for all awaiting it.

I found my way between those beautiful bum cheeks and explored with the tip of my cock a point of entry.  As the head found its destiny my whole body began to shake with excitement.  I pressed gently and pierced the virginity before me.  I held there still for a moment then pushed.  It was easier than I thought it would be.  I pushed again and again until I was totally inside.  It felt warm and I was being held tight.  My balls were exploding.  I wanted to push even deeper to split Phil in two with my cock but every last inch of shaft was already there.  I withdrew slightly then lunged with force. I felt slight pain and knew there was pain for my friend but pain and pleasure share the same orb of experience.  Again I repeated the action and again rivers of sensation flowed over me.  Again.  Again.  Then I came and with each squirt forced myself as far inside Phil as I possibly could.  How wonderful.

Dry and clothed in two bathrobes Phil said, “Can you stay Nigel ?  Do you have to go ?”

I didn’t have to go.  There was nobody at home.  I could stay as long as I wanted and I wanted.

We lay together on Phil’s large bed.  Still clothed in the bathrobes, not touching one another but together.  I thought back to the breakdown which had forced me to hitch-hike and smiled.  Phil asked me what I was thinking and I told him.

“Fate,”  he said.  “At least I hope it is.”

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow.  I did the same to bring us facing each other.

“Are you going back to driving on Monday ?”   Phil asked.

No way was I going back to work for that cowboy agency and explained that pizzas and burgers awaited the rest of the summer until I had to go back to university.

“Spend the summer with me and let’s have some fun together.”

I wanted to, bloody hell how I wanted to.  “I can’t,”  I explained sadly, “I have to get a job and earn some money for next term.”

"I have money, too much for me."

"No, I'm sorry I have to earn, it wouldn't be right."

Phil thought he had offended me and began to apologise.  "I'm sorry I just don't know how to make friends with guys.  Be my friend Nigel."

"Of course I will.  We can be friends but I will have to work."

For a time he was quiet then started to speak again. “I have an idea,”  Phil was starting to sound excited.  You know what it is like when your brain suddenly takes on something and the thoughts burst into your thinking faster than you can spill them out in words from your mouth - serendipity.  That was how it was with Phil over the next few minutes as he tried to share everything with me.

“Could you write book ?”

“Guess so but I don't know if anyone would want to read it.”

“Not an novel I mean, something different.  Say you and I were to travel all the way round the world in the next few weeks, hitch-hiking through Europe, across Asia then over the Pacific, North America and back home over the Atlantic.  We’d have an incredible time.  You could write the story of our adventure and I’ll take the photographs.  We’ll publish it in a book.”

I was ready to raise objections even though the idea had its attractions.

“If I put up the money and pay you double what you can expect to earn from any holiday job, I’ll take that back from the first share in the sales of the book then we split the rest fifty-fifty.”

I smiled, this was sounding Ok but who would publish an account of two young lads bumming their way round the world ?

“How long before your term starts ?”

I thought and did a mental calculation “Seven weeks.”

“No time to lose then.  We can start tomorrow.”

“But …”  My question was answered before I could ask it.

“One advantage of being a spoilt little rich kid is having a Dad who can influence who ever he wants.  I’ll get him to force a publisher to take on the book and promote it so hard it will be a certain success not matter how crap it is.  Not that I mean you would write crap any more than I would take crap photographs.”

This was totally crazy but no more crazy than starting the day as an agency driver then hitch-hiking only to be picked up and given a lift by the son of such a famous person.  Then to have wonderful man-sex with him.  Why not agree ?

"OK,"  but I'll need to get in contact with my parents to let them know where I've gone."

"No problem.  We'll drive down to Kent then take a ferry to France, drive through Europe as far as Turkey."  Phil jumped from the bed and scrambled about until he found an atlas.  He threw pages aside until he found the ones he needed.  "We'll have to leave the car here take a boat then get another car once we get to here."

"But I thought you said we would hitch and how can you simply dump a car like that somewhere in the middle of nowhere ?"

But Philip was far too excited to take notice of what I was saying.

"I'll need to go home and pack some clothes and I'll need my laptop."

Phil was scribbling out a route on the first page of a spiral notepad.

"Nigel,"  he said, "make a pact with me."

"OK."

"Every new country we reach you take me the way you did earlier."

"How many countries will we pass through ?"

He studied the atlas and his scribbled route. "Twenty-two."

I smiled.

In actual fact it was twenty-three and the book comes out next month.  Please buy a copy.