SUBURBAN LEGENDZ: The Hitchhiker

 

 

A mysterious figure walks on the side of the road.

Hand extended out.

Waiting in a place where time seems to stand still.

—

Mr. Thompson was still speaking, eyes on the road, not staring at the video call on his dashboard: responsible.  “And don’t forget—

“To water Susan,” a youthful voice answered back.“For a fern she needs water like a fish.”

“And?” Mr. Thompson raised his pitch at the end of the word.

“Get to bed on time. I know dad, I know. I’m not five.” Daniel Thompson playfully responded.

“OOOoooo he’s the big ONE SIX and suddenly he can do everything,” Mr. Thompson joked. “I hope that means I can expect to come home to a clean house, all the dishes done, floors swept, bedroom clean.”

“Wait, I never said all that.” Daniel tried to backtrack. Mr. Thompson could see his son shucking shirts off his floor and into a hamper.

The man laughed. “Just messing with you Danny–though I would appreciate your bedroom being clean–I’m not expecting full maid service.”

Danny dragged a hand down his face, “but my room probably needs a maid.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Last year Danny’s. This Danny had no recollection of—Oh, here comes the bus!”

“Alright, have a good start to your morning son, Love you.” He stole just a second to look down at his son’s face.

“Love you too, gottagobye!” Danny waved and with a bloop, the call ended.

Mr. Thompson was left alone on his morning drive. Day 2 of a work mandated trip he had to take. Go there, smile, shake hands, schmooze, even fondle their balls if he had to. Those were the exact words given to him from his higher ups. They needed relationships with the company to go well, and Mr. Thompson was their best guy. Not quite great for Mr. Thompson. In his younger years he may have jumped at the chance to prove himself, but nowadays he had a son. He also wasn’t sure if he agreed with their assessment he knew better than anyone, he could come off as uptight. And Mr. Thompson was a worrier, even if he didn't show it. He wanted Danny to be safe. Driving states away and leaving his son on his own wasn’t exactly a promising way to ensure that. But in fairness, he wanted to raise a capable young man, and Danny deserved a chance to prove himself.

So Mr. Thompson drove on through the forest road. He’d come upon it sometime ago while talking to Danny. It had been such a quiet and peaceful transition, the trees grew denser around him without notice. That mid fall coloring had settled nicely in the area and matched the nippy morning air. Made Mr. Thompson wished he’d grabbed a cup of coffee to go with it.

No other cars had passed him in miles.

He tried to lean forward and peer at the clouds, however the trees were offering only a glimpse of the sky. Splotches of dark gray. A look to his rearview mirror, His umbrella lay on the back seat. He was glad he brought it; one never knew what was going to happen. The universe seemed to agree with that sentiment as he saw a figure come into view on the other side of the road. He couldn’t make the stranger out but knew that universal hitchhiker sign. The person was faced away from him, walking forward, but the closer Mr. Thompson got the smaller he realized the stranger was. A simple backpack thrown over a gray hoodie and jeans.

A small conflict took place in Mr. Thompson’s mind, whether to keep driving or stop for the hitchhiker. He could pretend that he never even saw him. But then his heart spoke up, if that was Danny out here, he’d want someone to stop for his son. Mr. Thompson’s car slowed to a crawl, driving up alongside the stranger. He rolled his window down, as the guy kept walking.

“Need a ride?”

The young man stopped as if he hadn't registered Mr. Thompson’s presence until the man spoke. He turned to the car. Mr. Thompson let out a quiet gasp but closed his mouth before uttering a sound. He should have caught it right away. The loose hoodie, the saunter of his walk. Exactly what it promised: A wandering boy. No older than Danny. He gripped his steering wheel trying not to jump to anger-inducing conclusions about the teen’s home life. But why else would a young man be out here?

“You mean it?” The boy asked expectantly. There was a brightness in his voice, though there was a tiredness there as if he hadn’t spoken much.

“There’s a storm coming.” Mr. Thompson shared.

“Are you going the way I’m going?”  He leaned down, hands on the open car door window. Eyes hopeful. As he did, Mr. Thompson could have sworn he watched the boy’s body change. His face had a bit of an edge as his shoulders filled out. He was wider than Mr. Thompson thought. More than that. The young man before him was clearly in the range of older teens to early twenties. Youthfulness hadn’t left his face, but there was no denying he had solidity to him. He no longer looked like the slightest wind would send him over. It was more than a trick of the scarce sunlight, but Mr. Thompson let it go.

“Well, I can't promise that, but I hope a ride to the nearest gas station might suffice.”  Mr. Thompson answered.

“I’ll take it, man!” The young man opened the car door, took off his backpack, tossed it on the floor and stepped in. When he came down, he didn’t sit. He planted. A soft thud from his ass hitting the seat and his back colliding in its rested position. There was definitely serious weight to the young man, Mr. Thompson hadn’t clocked it before in the slightest. As clear as day now. He could see how the hoodie bunched around the male's body, contorted to a fitted shape. Underneath, the hint of pecs, right before the start of a pulled down zipper.

Mr. Thompson put his foot on the gas and pulled off. He took a few more glances at his new passenger. Black hair, brown skin, cool dark brown eyes: Latino. His body was a bit too hardened to match his innocent face. Developed from years of athleticism no doubt, which didn’t explain his current predicament. Because if he was killing it for whatever sports field he was, on why was he out here? The young man happened to turn his head at the exact moment Mr. Thompson tried to take another glance.

“Oh, my bad man, where are my manners? I’m Ghilherme,” he said, offering a handshake.

Mr. Thompson accepted, with a quick shake, happy to put a face to the name. “Gill-Ur-Me,” He sounded the words out, his new passenger had quite the grip.

“Arthur Thompson.”

“Mister Thompson.” The young man said without missing a beat.

The corners of Mr. Thompson, curled upward at the sign of respect. A very well-mannered boy for someone wandering about. “Nice to meet you, Ghilherme, that's a pretty unique name.”

“It’s Portuguese…I’m Brazilian if you couldn't tell, not that I walked here from Brazil.”  Ghilherme said, upon realizing how complicated his sentence sounded.

A gentle laugh escaped Mr. Thompson's mouth as he watched the young man get flustered. Tension in the car evaporated. Mr. Thompson felt confident now in his choice to pick the lad up. With a storm on the horizon, he would have been beside himself knowing the young man was caught up in the rain.

The forest continued on. Trees passed by. Road leading nowhere.

“Can I ask where you’re coming from?” Mr. Thompson tapped the steering wheel, “A young man out here in the county isn’t something I was expecting. I prefer my nice suburbs, get past the county line and it’s too rural out here for me.

Ghilherme shrugged his shoulders, “Here and there.”

“Man of few words, I can respect that. Can I at least ask where you’re headed?”

“Uh, I think…the city’s called Fullerton.” Ghilherme answered.

“And here I thought you’d be tight lipped the whole way,” Mr. Thompson said, surprised. “What’s in Fullerton: family, friends, fame?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“A guy who promised me a ride, then ditched me.”

Mr. Thompson nodded his head. “What does a young man need to do to get by?” A thought he didn’t let escape his mind. He took another look at the way Ghilherme, took up space in the car now, arm on the open window. A duality was at play. There was something so unapologetic and confident in his posture, yet his movement and tone of voice conveyed someone more guarded and awkward. Mr. Thompson wasn’t stupid; he knew there was a performance going on; he just couldn’t tell which one it was.

The road continued to wind and the woods were endless, but just as an unsettling thought began to creep in the man's head, the woods broke and the car was released back out into open pastures. Darker Gray skies above.

They pulled into the first gas station they came across. Mr. Thompson’s car fuel was full but was hoping Ghilherme could get back home from here. However, as they got out, the man noticed not a soul was around. Wind was blowing heavily. The pumps were old and rusted and the store's lights were out.

Ghilherme approached peeking inside, “I don’t think anyone’s been here in years.”

Thunder roared.

Then the drizzle started and quickly morphed into a downpour. They sprinted back into the car. Mr. Thompson pulled off as rain beat on the windows. The windshield wipers could hardly keep up. His car sloshed through water building up on the road, as he drove slowly and carefully. Ghilherme’s attention was fixed on his window, trailing droplet paths with his finger as it moved down his window.

“We can’t be out in this. News said it was going to be all day. I didn't know it was going to be this bad.” Mr. Thompson stated and got his phone's GPS to direct them to the nearest motel. A 20-minute drive, the man turned 40. He pulled into a packed parking lot, finding a parking spot in the back. The young man was going to use his bookbag for cover when, Mr. Thompson offered his umbrella. Ghilherme was going to refuse, but the older man took off, getting his small suitcase out the trunk, then running for cover. They both sprinted to the front desk office, car locked behind them.

Mr. Thompson was soaked by the time the entrance chime played as he and Ghilherme entered. Even with the umbrella Ghilherme hadn't fared much better with the wind making the rain come down at strange angles. The office smelled like old tobacco and peppermint. An old analog clock on the far wooden wall, ticked, and noted every passing second. A single ceiling fan spun in the center of the room, to beat the humidity but was too slow to generate any true cooling ability. The front of the brown carpet was squishy with countless wet footsteps leading to the check-in desk. 

The young woman behind the front desk sat, feet posted up, black braids back in a ponytail.

blowing a bubble, while watching TV on a travel television. Mr. Thompson approached, dripping water onto the floor with every step.

“Hi, I’d like a room with two beds please.”

The employee didn’t look up, just pointed to the key rack hanging behind her. Only five were left. “We’re full, from the storm, you get what we got.”

Mr. Thompson looked back at his passenger, currently fiddling with an old gumball machine beside the entrance. He sighed, “Okay fine.” He handed his card over, and the young woman finally looked up. Her eyes went to Mr. Thompson then to Ghilherme by the door, her expression dropped as she stood up, fixing her tan polo top.

“Just a warning. We don’t do angry spouses here. We will kick you out.”  She pointed over at Ghilherme, before swiping the card.

Mr. Thompson’s face flushed red, as he caught on to what she was implying. “That’s— We’re not— I’m—I’m not married, " he whispered, the only rebuttal he could think of.

The motel employee's face softened, “Oh!  Well then do whatever!” She smiled, handing over the key.

Stuffing his card back into his wallet, Mr. Thompson dragged Ghilherme back out into the storm as they went in search of their room. Hey, found it at the far end, which of course it was. He opened the door, ushering Ghilherme inside as he closed the door, sealing the rain off. He leaned his back against it. Finally, out of the storm. His eyes landed on the one bed in the room. Of course that was all they had left. Ghilherme stood huddled off to the side staring at it.

Mr. Thompson sighed, both of them were drenched. “You can have the bed. Though you should take a shower first and get those clothes off. Don’t want you getting pneumonia.”

“You can have the bed. You paid for the room after all, but I will take you up on the shower.” Ghilherme started stripping right there, shucking off his hoodie, shirt and jeans until he was down to his underwear. Mr. Thompson was shocked at the brazenness, but Ghilherme showed no emotion about it. That’s when the man realized instead of being surprised, he should have been taking his own wet clothes off. Soon there were two guys rocking it in their underwear. Ghilherme had on a tight pair of white Calvin Klein briefs that hugged his ass in the back and sagged heavily in the front. Meanwhile Mr. Thompson’s Tommy Ford navy blue boxers were damp and clung to him all around.

Ghilherme did a short jog to the bathroom leaving his bookbag and clothes on the floor. Mr. Thompson rolled his eyes, such a Danny thing to do. He moved them into one of the two chairs at the small table by the window. The curtains were drawn but he did take a peek outside. It looked like night, as rain pelted the ground, water moved across the asphalt like small waves. The shower water started, competing with the outside world. Mr. Thompson turned his attention back inwards. The TV was a bust, bad connection from the storm. Thankfully Ghilherme came out, towel around his waist as Mr. Thompson popped in. He came out feeling refreshed crawling into bed as his mind drifted off, Ghilherme attempting to watch TV.

Hours later, Mr. Thompson woke up briefly. The rain was still going.  The TC and lights in the room were off. However, he could see thanks to light coming in from outside. He turned his attention to the widow. Ghilherme was sitting in a chair, book bag now on the floor, staring out at the rain.  A strange dichotomy took place for Mr. Thompson, Ghilherme looked wise beyond his years as the motel’s night lights illuminated his face and yet childishly entranced like he’d been in the car.  His body was huddled up in the chair, legs pulled up, hands around his arms in nothing but underwear. He was trembling. Mr. Thompson didn’t like that, had the young man not been planning to say anything?

“Hey,” He whispered to get Ghilherme’s attention. The young man turned towards him in shock. “Get in the bed.” He pointed.  Ghilherme didn't even argue, just crawled in. Mr. Thompson could feel the chill rolling off his bed mate, the young man had been freezing. Mr. Thompson’s eyes grew heavy, tired, and he was soon asleep again. 

The rain became the perfect white noise as it transitioned the man somewhere else. The heavy fall sounded more distant, fake almost, as it was projected in through a TV. Mr. Thompson found himself standing in an upscale version of the motel he was in. The furniture, the bedding, the wallpaper, even the flooring was improved. He could hear birds calling outside, nor ones he’d ever heard before though. He went to take a peek outside realizing the window was a terrace. Once he stepped out, he felt warmth on his skin, realizing he was only wearing his boxers. The motel had turned tropical, strange plants surrounded the glassed-in terrace. Mr. Thompson’s mouth was agape, stunned truly. He stretched his body out, eyes closed, basking in the sun's rays, his cock twitched, then tented the loose fabric out.  When he opened his eyes again cock hard, he nearly jumped, noticing another person had been out there with him. For a split second he swore he saw Danny’s shadow on a chair grow, but it was just Ghilherme, lazily resting on a chair in his own underwear. The young man was also only in his underwear. He gave Mr. Thompson the peace sign.

 

 Mr. Thompson’s cock responded back involuntarily with a very noticeable throb. Mr. Thompson took in Ghilherme’s form. How stunning it was when the fear of getting sick wasn’t attached to it. This was a retelling, a more provocative situation, than the actual reality the two had found themselves in. Mr. Thompson took a step forward, cock leading the way as he closed the distance between the two of them. He hunched over Ghilherme, hands resting on both sides of the wicker lounge chair. The soft smile stayed on Ghilherme’s face the whole time, even as Mr. Thompson drew his lips closer to Ghilherme.  He could smell the jock’s warm skin and body wash and hear his breathing. Time was slowing the closer he got, making every moment turn into an eternity.

The dream dissolved.

When the man truly started to wake up, he was surprised to see the back of Ghilherme’s head. Closer than he remembered it being, their upper bodies were only inches apart. Mr. Thompson had an arm over Ghilherme’s mid-section, having pulled him closer during the night. The young man’s back looked wider, shoulders sturdier. Mr. Thompson thought that couldn’t be real. Sleepily, he took a finger and softly pressed it to Ghilherme’s back: warm, soft. Real flesh. He traced it along, imaging at some point it’d fall through as a continuation of the dream. His attention went lower and that’s when he noticed Ghilherme's ass was fully flush against his crotch. Ghilherme’s butt was fuller, firmer, and overall bigger than last night. Mr. Thompson considered he was simply mistaken yesterday about the young man’s size. Then the man felt it. The shift of warmth on either side of his dick. The man looked down again, waking up more. His cock was fully out of his boxers, wedged between Ghilherme’s hairy thighs—did they have hair yesterday? He decided to ignore that question. Just to make sure he wasn't actually asleep he pressed forward. A heated hefty weight rested on the front half of his dick, which he was sure was Ghilherme’s own cock and balls, sitting in the young man’s briefs. That woke him up.

Mr. Thompson tried to slide his cock out, but it throbbed madly at the friction from Ghilherme’s skin. There was no denying he was already at his limit, and his cock was in hair trigger mode. Once more he tried. He ended up cumming, unable to stop himself or his morning wood. His cum hit the bed sheets, mimicking last night’s rain as it pelted the bed. He was able to get his cock out, the sensitive head, leaving a slimy trail on Ghilherme’s thighs. Mr. Thompson could not believe himself he immediately got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He needed a washcloth to clean the young man off before he woke up. On his way he paused, turning back to the bed. Ghilherme was larger, he had to be, he sunk into the bed more and his feet went down the bed longer. But that wasn't logical. He just had to be older than Mr. Thomspon had given him credit for. Yes, that certainly had to be it.

Just as he got into the bathroom and pulled out a washcloth he heard.

“Oh shit,”

He walked back out into the room, to find Ghilherme on his knees, covers thrown back. Cum puddles on the bed and ropes on his underwear. “Mr. Thompson, I nutted in my sleep and hosed the bed...” he looked up like a guilty dog.

There was a chance there for Mr. Thompson to play it off. Let Ghilherme take all the blame for the genetic concoction splattered on the cheap motel mattress but, Mr. Thompson wasn’t that kind of man. “No. you didn’t. It was me.” He sucked his teeth. “I woke up with my cock out of my boxers and between your legs. I tried to pull out but instead… I blew.”

“Oh,” Ghilherme looked around at the mess, “Okay word.” That was all he said.

“I’m so sorry, I'll clean it all off you.” The man offered.

Ghilherme didn’t say anything, just slid to the edge of the bed, legs open, Mr. Thompson's sticky evidence still there. Chastising himself, Mr. Thompson wet the cloth and went to wipe up his mess and squatted down between the young man’s legs. As an anxious father sometimes, he could get caught up in his own worries and forget situational awareness. He didn’t notice the missile rising between Ghilherme legs until it was poking him in the face. Before he commented he actually noticed, his cum had stained the young man’s black underwear. “Shoot,” He went into his suitcase and grabbed out his extra pair. “You like Calvin Klein, right? Here.” he tossed them and Ghilherme expertly grabbed them from the air. Then the young man slid his own off, his cock smacking between his legs as he put on Mr. Thomspon’s, a toothy smile on his face. Mr. Thompson couldn’t look away from the black bush of pubes that fed into the tube dangling below.

A video call on his phone broke his thoughts. Danny was awake. Typical Ghilherme, Mr. Thompson would have already started his day but between the rain and whatever was happening now; he’d gotten delayed. “Morning son,” he answered flustered.  He hadn't even done his typically perfectly combed hair to start his day.

“Beat you, dad.” Danny’s chipper voice came through.

“That you did,” Mr. Thompson’s chuckle was off kilter. He spent a few minutes talking to his son, as the teen got ready to head off to school. Danny said the storm hadn't hit their town. The talk was nice as he sat at the small table, eyes ever so often drifting over to Ghilherme, laying on the bed watching TV. How did Mr. Thompson ever think Ghilherme reminded him of Danny? Danny was a boy and Ghilherme, he was undoubtedly a young man. It was obvious in his looks and the way muscles sat on his frame. A mustache coming in over his hips. His jaw line coming in sharp sat upon a thick neck that fed into strong traps. Rock solid shoulders fed into, bulging biceps and huge forearms that flanked his sides. Pecs protruded from his torso with dark hair spread out from the center, dancing out to his dark nipples. Abs came in next, its own golden brick road that led to a dark treasure trail, then the desired land of his pubes and bulge. Due to how Ghilherme, was sitting, Mr. Thompson could not experience the true view of how massive Ghilherme’s ass was. It all fed into long legs, crossed over each other, that stretched down the bed. Overgrown thighs, covered in curly dark hairs, and hardened calves, topped off with two massive feet, fiddling with the other as his toes flexed.

Mr. Thompson drifted seamlessly back into his conversation with Danny. They talked until the bus came and Danny was off again. The man set down his phone, already whipping his comb out to fix his hair.

“Does your son always call you, or do you make him call you?” Ghilherme asked from the bed.

The man shrugged, “Is there a difference? I just like knowing he’s okay.”

“I’d say there’s a huge difference.” Ghilherme flicked the TV off, “between a kid who wants to call and one who has to check in.”

“Well, it’s not supposed to be a punishment.” Mr. Thompson frowned.

Ghilherme held up his hands, “Didn’t say it was. Just wanted to share an opinion. I think…lightening up on him might not be so bad.” he rubbed the back of his head as if he was unsure, he could even say it.

“What are you talking about, I’m so light on him.” He joked back comb going through his hair.

“Eh, no offense Mr. Thompson you’re a really nice guy, but you seem pretty wound up in some ways. Like so wound up, you came between my legs.”

Embarrassment returned to smash into the man like a freight train. “I deeply apologize that was truly so unbecoming off me. I haven’t had anyone sleep next to me in a while and I think, my body found yours in the night—

“No, no” Ghilherme sat up shaking his hands, “I’m not blaming you. I’m actually kind of happy for you. I think you really needed to get that nut out. You probably don’t notice it, but it doesn't look like you're moving as stiffly today.”

Mr. Thompson knew sometimes young people talked nonsense, but his body did feel a lot looser after he came. But he knew his issues were more than just being sexually backed up. Tension in the body born from years of worry couldn’t be eradicated with one good nut. Maybe he could try taking advantage of how good he was feeling though. He stopped combing his hair. It was neat, but it wasn’t perfect. He put on his next polo shirt on, a soft teal as he left the buttons undone. His own pecs pressed firmly out, had it always been so tight in the chest? Then he slid on his pants, they were tight coming past the knees and once on and zipped made his bulge stick out a bit. He forewent his belt as his shorts didn't give any leeway today. Different, but good.

” Dad outfit, complete.” He joked and posed like a Power Ranger, as Ghilherme groaned, and that sounded like Danny’s annoyed son groan.

Ghilherme got dressed next, going for his clothes from yesterday, now dry. He started with his jeans putting one foot in, then the other. The next thing Mr. Thompson knew, the young man was hopping about like a rabbit attempting to pull them up.

“What are you doing?” He sat at the table, stifling a laugh, watching the event transpire.

“They won't come up,” He flopped on the bed like a fish, then floundered about kicking his legs. Mr. Thompson chuckled; from his vantage point the pants were stuck at Ghilherme’s thighs.

He stood up, “Alright let me help.” if he watched any longer, he was going to fully burst out laughing. Ghilherme got up as Mr. Thompson came from behind him and pulled on his pants. The two were trying and inches were being rewarded, slowly sliding him in. Mr. Thompson's eyes briefly watched that bubbled jock ass jiggle and bounce about. The pants stopped going up, right at the curve outward. There was no way the pants were going to fit that ass. The man leaned around Ghilherme, the young man’s bulge rested heavy in the front, the zipper was not going to conquer it.

“I think you should wear something else.” Mr. Thompson shared, Ghilherme, conceded with a huff of air. The two then had to work together to get the pants off, Mr. Thompson pulling with all his might, biceps straining as Ghilherme crawled back on the bed. The young man’s legs eventually popped free as Mr. Thompson held up the pants like a trophy. Ghilherme went to his book bag for something else. While he was doing that, Mr. Thompson examined the pants in his hands, how light they felt, how small they were. Curious, he peered at the size. The same size Danny wore. His eyes flew to the muscular frame squatted before him, even off sight alone no way could that body fit into these. But he had been in them yesterday, comfortably even. How did it make sense he couldn’t wear them today?

Ghilherme pulled out a pair of gym shorts and put them on. He made a gesture for Mr. Thompson to throw the jeans, which the young man caught, then stuffed away into the bag. Ghilherme didn't even attempt to put on the shirt, banishing it to the bag. He zipped up his hoodie, having to hunch his back to make it go up, only to have his pecs force the zipper back down, when he stood normal. Mr. Thompson thought Ghilherme was going to have trouble with his shoes, which also appeared to have shrunk in size overnight, but as the socked feet slid in, the shoes adapted and expanded larger. The man blinked. No, they had to have always been that size.

Mr. Thompson considered parting ways at the motel, perhaps offering to buy more nights for Ghilherme, but as the young man’s stomach growled. The man knew he had to at least buy breakfast for the young man, especially after the incident Mr. Thompson caused that morning. “Let’s go eat!” he said, flinging the door open.

The two were on the road again. Mr. Thompson didn't feel nervous at all, in fact felt nice having someone to talk to without Danny around. He avoided the family topic but did ask more about Ghilherme generally. Favorite color, food, city. Ghilherme answered like any other self-prescribed cool young man, “Depends on the day, depends on the mood.” Not ‘my’ mood the mood, Mr. Thompson had no idea what that even meant.

Q’s Diner was loud and busy; some form of gas station crashed into seated dining. The place had the aroma of salty bacon and warm toast, the endless chorus of eggs sizzling in the background. Mr. Thompson held the door open for Ghilherme, as they came into what looked like a trucker refugee. There were a couple of families, a few solo travelers, but it was obvious where the real money was made. Large 18 wheelers sat outside, in their own refuel stations visible from the windows. The two got a booth and a waiter came by and handed them menus.

“So, where’s next for you?” Mr. Thompson asked, eyes wandering up from his list of options. 

“Already told you, got to get to Fullerton to see a guy who ditched me.” Ghilherme answered, not looking up.

“And you want to find him, why?”

“Oh that,” Ghilherme smirked, “He stole some money from me. I intended to get it back, all $783.23 of it.”

“You know where he lives?” The man asked.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll find him. Don’t worry about that.” Ghilherme said, determined. 

They ended up ordering when their waiter came back and 20 minutes later, they had their food. Mr. Thompson watched as Ghilherme ate. The young man dug into his breakfast burrito and fried like it was going to get up and walk off his plate. He wondered when was the last time his passenger had a proper meal. Eating his own food, his omelet disappeared with a delicious bite. 

A door to the diner slammed open, causing heads to turn. At the entrance stood a large burly bear of a man. He towered over most people in there at 6’3. His chest and stomach entered the establishment before the rest of him. One of his wide hands kept the door open, palm and fingers fully on the glass. Hair ran up his forearms leading to a flannel sleeve that had been pushed down to the elbow. The Flannel itself was wide open, revealing a white tank top, with wiry brown hairs spilling over it. His legs were hidden by dark blue jeans that fed into boots, but based on how close it pressed, wasn’t much for the imagination there. Then there was his head, his neck hidden behind his bushy brunette beard, the same as with his upper lip. Nothing but hair on his lower jaw that seamlessly fed into the hair on his head top off with a cap. A true trucker through and through. But his eyes rang with a fury of something else.

He stepped forward, his belly didn’t shake or wobble; it was a true muscle gut, a testament to his power. Marching forward he was a moving bullet headed forward. Mr. Thompson prayed this second oncoming storm wasn’t meant for them, but he found no such luck as the man stopped at their table and slammed his hands down, paying attention only on Ghilherme.

“You little shit!” The man was gruff and spat venom. “Where’s your older brother, or was he your dad?”

Ghilherme didn't react, only stuffed the end of his burrito into his mouth and swallowed. 

The man pulled Ghilherme out of his seat. One arm clutching the hooding and forcing the young man to stand, “What the fuck did you freaks do to me?”

“That’s enough.” Mr. Thompson shot up and gripped the space between the man’s shoulder and his neck. The trucker let go of Ghilherme, spinning around as if finally taking in Mr. Thompson’s presence. Despite the enormity of the stranger, Mr. Thompson didn’t think the trucker was huge once he stood up too. Mr. Thompson had always been a respectable 5’10” but now a few more inches had appeared on him.

The hirsute man turned his head finally registering Mr. Thompson. The man then looked about the diner and could see multiple faces staring at him. His let go of the young man’s hoodie and Ghilherme was free.

“Go to the car.” Mr. Thompson threw Ghilherme his keys. 

“But” Ghilherme’s eyes darted between the two men.

“Go,” Mr. Thompson’s voice was firm. He didn't even think of how dumb of an idea that was: handing his keys to a stranger. Ghilherme slid past the man and left. All the father saw though was someone with too much size and power lording it over someone younger. If it had been his son, it’d be over, but even if it wasn’t he was still going to have words.

“You’re disturbing everyone’s meal. You should go. I don’t think anyone here wants to hear from you.”

The trucker looked like he wanted to punch a hole through, Mr. Thompson. But Mr. Thompson had never felt more indestructible like his body was solid. He could feel from his feet planted on the ground, up to his abs flowing to his chest and arms. The space in his shorts was completely vacuumed up by his thighs, as his ass turned the seat of his pants into a curve. His biceps choked up his short sleeves, making his shoulders appear larger. All His muscles were breathing new life into him as his veins rose over challenging the trucker. One the trucker seemed eager to accept, a cocky smirk denoting he was still assured he’d win, but a look across the diner. There were other people who seemed ready to hop in if a fight did kick off.

A derisive snort left the trucker’s mouth. He stood up straight, eyeing Mr. Thompson up and down “Wait until your balls drop, before challenging me.” He left the dinner. Mr. Thompson immediately asked for the check and paid, rushing outside to make sure the trucker didn’t chase down Ghilherme. 

Rushing out to his car Mr. Thompson came upon a sight.

A sight that made him laugh.

Ghilherme sat in the driver’s seat, door open, hoodie off, keys not in the ignition, playing behind the wheel as if he were driving. Mr. Thompson let out a soft chuckle and Ghilherme looked out to him, caught red headed. The young man suddenly changed his position and posture as if he were doing something way cooler.

 

 Wiping the smirk off his face, Mr. Thompson said, “You’re adorable, you know that.” Then his face went red. It was a quick thought, but he hadn't meant to say it. The words came tumbling out of his mouth. After all, what young man wanted to be called adorable?

Ghilherme gave a chuckle in return as he stood, “Thanks.” His body moved and his voice conveyed it with a cool swagger that took the compliment in stride. “What now?” He was ready to move the conversation along.

“I was thinking, we could part here, but with that trucker around I think it’s best if I take you to the next gas station.” Mr. Thompson motioned for his passenger to get on the other side. They pulled off leaving the diner behind. Ghilherme had his window down, arm resting on the doorsill, as the wind blew in. Mr. Thompson kept peeking at his guest’s hair, it was shorter, right? More uniform than it had been before. Weren’t there soft curls tossed by the wind yesterday? He peeled his eyes away before Ghilherme noticed. Looking in the rearview. He saw a truck far in the distance. With nothing else but grass around for miles there was nothing else to see; it suck out like a sore thumb. Regardless, Mr. Thompson calmed himself there was no way it was who he thought. His worries were getting the best of him.

A few hours past noon, they pulled into another diner-gas station. Way further than he promised. Mr. Thompson got out as Ghilherme grabbed his book bag from the back, as well as his hoodie. Mr. Thompson had a sinking suspicion Ghilherme could no longer fit into his hoodie and that’s what he didn’t put it on. The young man dropped his stuff by the front license plate as the two travelers stood in front of each other. It was Ghilherme who went in for a handshake and the older male pulled him into a hug. Mr. Thompson hadn't even planned it. He just did. Very unlike him. But in a span of 24 hours he had come to care for his passenger. Ghilherme's bare chest collided with Mr. Thompson's pecs on pec. Arms around a warm back, as even the too cool Ghilherme, folded and hugged the man back. Time passed and they didn't seek to pull away, in fact they held each other harder.

“I really enjoyed riding with you, sucks that it’s over.” Ghilherme's voice sounded so melancholy.

“Same here.” Mr Thompson ran a hand up and down Ghilherme’s back, comforting him. He pulled his head slightly away from Ghilherme’s. The two looked each other in the eyes, then kissed. Mr. Thompson had to be careful, the more spirited young male was grinding into him, and he was grinding back. Slight rolls of the hips, most people would miss on a quick glance, but the dalliance was begging them to go further. The tip of an uncut cock poked at him, sneaking over Ghilherme's waistband. Mr. Thompson stepped away, using a finger to tuck Ghilherme's cock away, by setting the waist band back over it.

“It’s been fun, hasn’t it.” Ghilherme asked.

“Yeah, it was.” Mr. Thompson wanted a few moments longer, so he whipped out his phone. “Maybe you should give someone a call.” he extended it towards Ghilherme, “I’m not saying it has to be your parents, or family but maybe…someone?” 

Ghilherme looked like he was about to say something, but instead took the phone, dialing and stepping away. Mr. Thompson watched him talk on the phone, not intruding, then patiently waited as the young man walked back, handing over the phone. 

“Thanks, I should be good from here.” Ghilherme smiled, a toothy grin that promised his own personal mischief was on the way.

Mr. Thompson laughed, “I hope so, you take care of yourself hear?”

“I will,” Ghilherme nodded.

The man took off waving goodbye to Ghilherme.After he got up the road the truck from earlier pulled into the gas station. An unsettling feeling was in his gut. He kept driving for a little more until he could no longer ignore it. He stopped at the side of the road, looking at the recent calls. No number was listed. Tutting his teeth and shaking his head Mr. Thompson whipped his car around and sped back to the gas station. 

Pulling in, he parked his car in a fluid motion and hopped out. Ghilherme wasn’t by any of the normal pumps or inside the store. Mr. Thomspon rushed to the specialized pumps. The 18 wheeler he spotted earlier was there, but no one was inside. He ran between the trucks. Nothing. Nothing. Until he found that bear of a man cornering Ghilherme. The man looked imposing an angry. Ghilherme was backed up against a truck but didn’t look too fazed.

“Hey!” Mr. Thompson shouted charging in, both heads turning to look at him. He got in between the stranger and Ghilherme, making a space for himself by shoving the man back, one hand  was all it took.A hand larger than Mt. Thompson was used to, with the arm and shoulder to match, same for the other. “You need to think carefully about what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” The Trucker echoed. “What about the fuck him and hsi family’s doing!” He pointed to Ghilherme aggressively. “I used to be somebody, ya know. I get one fucking blowjob from his brother and next thing, I know I’m a burly bear.”

“I don’t have a brother.” said as simple as a fact, stepping to the guy, but Mr. Thompson placed his other hand on Ghilherme’s left pec to keep him back. His thumb ran over Ghilherme’s nipple as if in a soothing motion.

“Okay, you’re fucking Father then! I don’t give a fuck who it is, but I know ya’ll are related” The bear grumbled back. His attention turned to Mr. Thompson. “You can feel it can’t you? That something ain’t right with that boy.” 

Mr. Thompson turned back to Ghilherme, who had a slight frown on his face. The way Ghilherme couldn't fit into his clothes any more, how tight Mr. Thompson’s clothes were. THere was something preventing it from being at the forefront of his mind, but yeah he knew Ghilherme was different.However the inconsistencies didn't make him unworthy of being someone Mr. Thompson wanted to protect. This was about Mr. Thompson’s decision, not Ghilherme’s existence. What kind of man would he be if he let this brutish trucker unleash what was clearly pent up rage on Ghilherme.

Ghilherme spoke with a calm voice. “You keep blaming me or someone else for what happened to you. But what really happened?”

“You’re dad sucked my cock and changed me.”

Ghilherme tilted his head, a smirk on his face , cocky, knowing. “No he didn’t.”

“You little shit!” The trucker spat, reaching for the young jock.

“Try being honest Eddie. What really happened?” Ghilherme shrugged.

The man's arms stopped flailing around,”People call me Ed,now” He paused as his eyes widened, staring at Ghilherme. Then his entire demeanor shifted to one more relaxed. “But that’s right it used to be Eddie. I didn't even know I forgot that” He fixed his shirt standing up a bit straighter. “I was a big deal ya know.” He turned to Mr. Thompson,”Came to the gas station and wanted to get a load off. The man asked for a ride, but I already knew I was going to pump and dump. Once we were in the bathroom. I thought about how good the head was, that i should just delicate my life to road head and breaking dude’s hearts. Then it’s like I was draining away into my own cock,  my body was climbing higher.” Ed nodded toward Ghilherme. “Then his dad gulped everything I was down his throat.” Next Ed. fixed his cap and left the two alone.

 

Mr. Thompson got Ghilherme into his car and drove off, making sure a truck wasn’t following them. It was a town over, from his own stop, but Mr, Thompson was going to get Ghilherme to his destination.

“That wasn’t true, was it?” he asked, watching Ghilherme adjust the car seat so his legs could fit.The man licked his lips before continuing, “ What he said about your dad, was actually about you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Ghilherme admitted casually. “But he got some details wrong.I didn’t suck shit out of him. He shot it into my throat. He was so eager to get rid of the responsibility and pressure, almost choked me.”

“Does that normally happen around you?”

Ghilherme had a wry smile, “Why you wondering if you’ve always had such milkable jugs?”’

Mr. Thompson glanced down at his chest as his pecs flexed very visible through the thin fabric. Questions arose, but not ones he was interested in. “No,” he answered honestly. “I’m wondering if that’s why you're on the road, because you're different. Because of what you can do.”

Ghilherme let out a laugh, not a mocking or insulting one, a genuinely damn near boyish one that conveyed every bit of youthfulness in him. He wiped a tear from his eye with a beautiful smile, “No, That’s not why Mr. Thompson. I’m just a hitchhiker. There are so many tales about them, happy, sad, good,bad. I don’t determine my story, I just play my role as dictated by who I’m with. Though to be fair to me, I didn’t even get a ride with Eddie, but he got the blowjob he wanted.”

“What do I get?” Mr. Thompson nervously gripped the steering wheel. He wasn’t scared or angry about learning the answer. He  just hoped the reason wasn’t terrible to Ghilherme either.

Ghilherme scratched his head, prideful smiling at Mr. Thompson, “You get a ‘boy’ to fret over who’s not your son and to loosen up.”

“Wha–

“Now before you get to protesting, like I said I didn't determine your actions, you did. From the very moment you picked me up you were worried. I’m just relaying what I’ve been watching. Hell, I didn’t even think you would come back.”

Mr. Thompson turned to him mouth open “Of course I’d come back you were in danger had to make sure you were okay.”

Ghilherme, gave Mr. Thompson once over, and nodded his head, “Yeah, I definitely like this role.” The man felt his face go red. Do you mind if we pull over? I want to put my  stuff in the trunk.” 

Driving halfway on to the dirt, Mr Thompson calendar down Ghilherme got out the car. He got out himself prepped to say more words only to find the young man peeling off his shorts. They looked tiny on him now, Ghilherme’s face had hardened even more. He had grown again. His underwear ended up sliding down around the curve of his ass,orange sunlight on the brown buns and thicker back.

Mr. Thompson’s cock leapt as if trying to detach, he wanted Ghilherme badly. Absolutely no denying that now.

 

Reaching into his bag, Ghilherme pulled his jeans back out. Mr. Thompson watched dumbfounded as the jeans slid smoothly up the longer legs in a way they hadn’t that every morning. Ghilherme fastened them, perfectly contained.

“Could you have done that at any time?” He asked voice portraying his arousal,

“No, not anytime, only when you wanted to see it.”. Ghilherme walked back to the car, ass jiggling.

Mr. Thompson had no record of getting to the next motel after that. He just remembered his lips on Ghilherme‘s the moment the door closed. He pushed the younger man back on the bed and climbed on top of him. He kissed Ghilherme pecs before softly biting them. A strange desire had built up inside of him to protect and yet absolutely wreck the man with him. He couldn't get his clothes off fast enough and he didn’t allow Ghilherme to take his own ants off either. Mr. Thompson pulled the damn things off, flinging them to the floor for deceiving him earlier. Next were the briefs and they could not contain the absolute MAN MEAT Ghilherme was slinging. Off went the small briefs, not befitting some Ghilherme’s size. 

Pressing his face forward, Mr. Thompson let the heat of the member take him. His nose nuzzled into the dark pubes, before he stuck one of Ghilherme’s testicles in his mouth. He could have sworn he felt the balls make themselves bigger, churning and sloshing more seed and she sucked. Ghilherme smelled like the words best campfire and smore, the man wanted—needed more. The fat cock, every single last inch of the uncircumcised beast, disappeared into Mr. Thompson’s throat. He milked his companion with the seriousness of his professional self, but the eagerness of a virgin. Giraffes couldn’t give better neck than Mr. Thompson in that moment. He pulled off for a second, just to stare and admire the wet throbbing pillar. His saliva was all over Ghilherme’s cock. He gulped it back down. Ghilherme didn’t last long on the second round. By the time Mr. Thompson went balls deep, Ghilherme lost his load, shot after shot into the single father’s mouth. 

Hunched over the bed’s side, Mr. Thompson’s cock had been drooling, a trail of precum glinting in the light, connecting his cock to the floor. He hadn’t allowed Ghilherme to touch him back. Mr. Thomspon had only wanted to start by absolutely serving the jock showing just how much he wanted him. Ghilherme’s wet cock slammed back on his abs, drained of his seed stolen by Mr. Thompson’s lips. The jock looked like he had run a marathon absolutely haggard. He didn't get time to rest; Mr. Thompson wasn’t done. The man lifted the jock's legs, folding him over, and dove into those spectacular glutes, eating ass and grunting all the while. Ghilherme’s cock got hard again, and Mr. Thompson stroked it fiercely, pushing into Ghilherme's ass. It jerked fiercely, unable to escape the man’s grasp, as Ghilherme came again. His cock splattered against his face and upper body. It smelt heady, potent, like something every jock produced to impregnate. Got Mr. Thompson hard as FUCK. He leaned in and got all the abandoned nuts for himself, cleaning Ghilherme completely.  

Ghilherme may have looked haggard but the toothy grin he displayed as they locked eyes relayed it as perhaps just another performance. Good Mr. Thompson wasn’t done. He worshiped, now it was time to wreck. He flipped the male around lining him up with the headboard. Mr. Thompson’s cock looked heftier and meaner than mere seconds ago, regardless it all sank into Ghilherme depth the same. The man always had a good size, but this was now a lot of COCK to give. But before he knew it his brown pubes met the toasted buns. It was like he could still feel the afternoon sun backing them. Their hips met and skin slaps echoed through the room. Mr. Thompson couldn’t; give a fuck if other people heard him. This was his boy and he needed everyone to know. The trucker Ed had really tried to fuck with him. Mr. Thompson leaned in kissing Ghilherme as their fucking continued switching off and on between love making and pure sexual gratification. The room was laced with the heavy scents of their bodies co-mingling. Ghilherme ass took a pounding, its owner breaking out in a full sweat.

And surprisingly it was Mr. Thompson who noticed. He didn’t just have Ghilherme like others. He had Ghilherme beyond the boundaries of flesh. Something deeper, the essence, that had been forced into the visage of a lost young person when they met, perhaps far ancient and wiser than even it understood. His boy. Only his. He had made an older brother for Danny. He took one more look at Ghilherme's back side.

 

 

Mr. Thompson’s cock detonated, an explosion that backed up Ghilherme’s poor colon. He pressed forward, laying his legs on Ghilherme’s. The man’s crotch laid on top of ass cheeks. buried as if he were trying to impregnate Ghilherme. Fuck maybe he was. Mr. Thompson collapsed onto Ghilherme’s back, chest collided and fell perfectly. Ghilherme held the man’s weight, no spill over anywhere. He had gained more years through their fucking, and it only made Mr. Thomspon go harder.

He fell asleep quickly.

In the morning, he woke up arms around Ghilherme, cock pressed on that fine ass. Leaning over, he kissed Ghilherme’s face, then slowly and painstakingly crawled out of bed to take a shower. He got dressed putting on another polo, and dress pants, he didn’t comb his hair or put on a belt. Tennis shoes, not dress shoes. More of a natural look, less polished. His upper body was completely visible under the shirt chest, bigger than most women’s boobs. The ass he was packing felt ready to pop out the back of his pants, while his bulge made a very obvious indent on his fly area. Ready for the day, he went over to bed to lightly stir Ghilherme awake.

“Hmmm?” Ghilherme rubbed his head in the pillow.

“Want anything for breakfast?” He asked.

Ghilherme shook his head, then went back to sleep. Mr. Thompson chuckled, absolutely sure Ghilherme didn’t even hear him. He headed out the door, to pick up some food. His phone rang as Danny called on video and he answered. Danny was still in his night clothes, rubbing his eyes

“Looks like I beat you today. I’m already on the road.” He taped the stirring wheel

“I overslept a bit.”  Danny sighed.

“Well don’t worry about it, I’ll let you go so you can finish getting ready.”

That made Danny’s eyes open, “Really? Wait,” He leaned into the camera closer. “Dad, your hair’s not styled.”

“Just trying something new today, Danny!” He smiled to his son and to himself. “Love you son, have a nice day.”

“You too dad,” and then Danny was gone. 

When Mr. Thompson got back to the motel room with breakfast sandwiches, Ghilherme was already up and dressed. The man tossed one over and Ghilherme snatched it from the air with ease. “Someone’s on point today.” he smiled.

“Have to be, today I get my money back.” He bit into his food.

“Do you even need money?” Mr. Thompson asked amused.

Ghilherme looked at his driver like he was stupid, “Whether I need it or not, how about it’s my money and it was stolen. Guess his story was about being an ass to strangers.”

“Fair enough,” Mr. Thompson shrugged as they ate together. His eyes roamed over the completely filled in body, everywhere just full of more mass and muscle for Ghilherme to adorn, there was nothing ‘young adult’ about him. This was another man who had come completely into himself and would only grow more into himself. 

After they finished eating, and cleaned up the room, Mr. Thompson grabbed Ghilherme and made out, ravenously. They had been heading to the door, and he just went for it. Dropping to his knees he yanked down Ghilherme’s pants cock springing out. Firm hands on Ghilherme’s ass, Mr. Thompson went to town, washing down breakfast with Ghilherme’s massive cumshot. He wasn’t allowed to just walk away though, Ghilherme cock was raring to go again, and he got them in a 69 position. They both got a taste of each other that morning.

Then Mr. Thompson brushed his teeth, because he was more carefree, not dumb.

He drove to Ghilherme’s city first. He stopped at a random park.

“I could wait you know, or come back to get you?” He offered.

“Thanks man, that means a lot, really,” He smiled and Mr. Thompson wanted to melt. “But I think we both know our time’s up. It’s up to someone else to help this hitchhiker. Mr. Thompson nodded sadly, popping open the trunk as Ghilherme hopped out, getting his things, then walking on Mr. Thompson’s side Ghilherme leaned in for a kiss, their lips met. Not a goodbye. Their mouths parted. Mr. Thompson spotted it first in his peripheral vision, a guy eating a donut, then body freezing like he’d seen a ghost. Ghilherme turned his head, then slapped the car.

“Hey, you fuck where’s my money?!” The guy took off running.”

“I’ll be seeing you Mr. Thompson!” Ghilherme was right behind the guy. They ran down the block and turned the corner and then he was gone.

He waited for a bit before pulling off.

The work event went by smoothly; he didn't even think too much about putting his best foot forward, they all felt naturally drawn to him. The investors were secured, the higherups would be pleased. Time to head home. The drive back was lonely without another presence. He thought back to his final kiss with Ghilherme. Something had flashed in the man’s mind, shared by his companion. He hadn’t said it, but he wanted to know where Ghilherme would be after their time together. The kiss was the answer. He’d be everywhere.

There were various meetings with hitchhikers waiting to take place, taking place, even then.

   

Mr. Thompson continued driving with wind on his face, another beautiful day. His mind drifted only a second and when it came too, the scenery around him was different, less plains more tropical. Up ahead of him a figure walked alone on the road.

 

Great body? Fat ass? He definitely knew who that was. Mr. Thompson pulled up beside the man on the road.

“You going my way?” The man asked.

“Where are your clothes?” Mr. Thompson chuckled.

“The last guy I was with took them…” Then the hitchhiker looked at Mr. Thompson and leaned in, “or maybe, you didn’t want me wearing anything?”

“Get in the car,” He planted a kiss on the man's lips. They made it back on the road, laughing it up, not noticing the tropical scene fading back into familiar plains.

—

A mysterious figure walked on the side of the road, a smile on his lips.

Nude body open to the elements.

Hand extended out.

Standing in a place where time slowed to a crawl, and the next story waited to take shape.