Gotcha

By JealousPervert published February 11, 2019
Summary

A hitchhiker in need gets the ride of a lifetime.

I’m struggling to remember how it began.

I was hitchhiking, I think. Yes. But I can’t recall to, or from where, or why.

At some point he pulled up in his truck. He seemed a bit rednecky but friendly enough, and I was desperate. But not as desperate as I am now. We exchanged names. What is my name, again? Boy. Yes. And he is Bull.

We were riding along. I think at some point I complimented his beard. It was reddish, so full and silky soft in appearance, unlike my own patchy scruff that could only sprout coarse wires. We talked about beards for a bit, how his grandfather and father and uncle all had good beard genes. His truck rumbled along the winding road, and at some point he pulled a pipe and some tobacco from his shirt pocket and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I smoke.” It was his truck, after all, and I tried to roll down the window but the old lever wasn’t cooperating. He chuckled and made a comment about meaning to have that fixed but never getting around to it.

I watched him stick the bit of the pipe between his hairy lips and light it, sucking the flame into the bowl, puffing thick bluish clouds into the cab that danced and swam in the sunlight. I actually didn’t mind the smell, it was sweet and woody. Strong but comforting, and distinctly masculine. I think I told him it smelled good. Again he told me how the men in his family had all smoked pipes, that it was a coming-of-age tradition. He told me about different varieties of tobacco and how this particular blend had become his favorite because of how great it smelled and how nicely it smoked. And boy, could Bull smoke. He didn’t take small, measured puffs, but rather hauled deep mouthfuls into his chest, and soon the cab was quite foggy with his generous exhalations. I was aware that I was basically smoking along with him secondhand, just being in such close quarters, but strangely this didn’t bother me. It actually kind of soothed me, made me feel a bit floaty, and how could anything that smelled so delightful be bad?

I stole furtive glances at him through the haze, not wanting to seem too interested or weird. I watched him haul cloud after fragrant cloud in and out of his furry mouth, his nostils, the milk-white smoke coiling gently through and around his majestic beard in warm, snaky tendrils like the caress of a ghostly lover. The smoke spiraled lazily in the light, hypnotic, almost tranquilizing. At some point he realized, or I realized, that I was staring at him. He chuckled, and leaned closer to exhale one of those intoxicating clouds right into my face as my dick suddenly sprang to life.

And he said: “Gotcha.”

I didn’t know what he meant, or what was happening to me. He continued, “I can always tell. Dunno what it is, but this special blend of mine sure seems to bring out the faggot in a boy. Ain’t that right?”

Maybe I would have protested, but somehow I knew he was right, and all I could do was keep watching him as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a chest as furred as his face. So help me I wanted to get lost in that hairy forest. Maybe I was already lost; I have no idea how long we drove. As he kept talking to me in a suggestive purr, I sat helpless as he reached over and stroked the outline of my penis through the soft fabric of my shorts, and he described lewd images and urges that took root in my mind, inscribing new desires that were foreign yet undeniable. I was Bull’s boy now. I could only think about how inviting his body looked, how I wanted to nurse on his meaty nipples as his dense pelt tickled my face, how I wanted to plunge myself into the warmth and wetness of his mouth, for him to suck me off as expertly as he sucked on that pipe, to blanket my dick and body and senses his in powerful smoke, to take his sweet exhaust and hot load deep inside me, to truly become his boy, to merge with Bull as one. My cock was leaking like a faucet. I was desperate.

I am desperate.

Now we’ve pulled off the road, and he takes my hand and guides me a short distance to a small cabin that smells like him and his truck. I am wobbly but he says I’ll be just fine, that I’ll spend the night with him and tomorrow I’ll be on my way and all of this will seem like a dream, but in the meantime I’m to be his obedient boy, and he will take very good care of me and give me something I never knew I needed until today.

He undresses me, and them himself, revealing the true power of his stocky, hirsute body. His dick is rock hard, and he makes it jump in front of my face, and I am captivated and so hungry for him but I’m also feeling so very heavy, and know I cannot move until instructed.

He holds aloft a larger pipe than before and tickles my shaft with the stem, coaxing another dollop of precum onto the bit before taking it to his lips and lighting it, taking in satisfying gulps of fresh smoke that waft over me, ensorcelling me deeper under his spell. At last, he pushes me down and takes my cock into his mouth. The feeling is succulent and stupefying as my dick disappears into his ruddy mane, my hardness surrounded by the lush softness of his beard, his lips and throat massaging my manhood which I am all too eager to surrender. His rhythymic sucking is punctuated by deep growls of his own growing hunger, interrupted periodically as he pauses to puff and stoke his pipe. I feel the warmth of the bowl against my balls, the burning tobacco glowing orange, as sweet white clouds cascade around my crotch and I breathe deeply to take in more of the heady aroma. Then he moves upward to play with my nipples, and he allows me to run my fingers through the dense, silky fur on his chest. His pipe is inches from my face, and I am rewarded with more of the potent fumes that I now desire more than air. I am completely under his power, and when he puts his hairy lips to mine to feed me a great lungful of the smoke I take it in deep and my eyes roll toward the back of my head at the ecstatic taste and scent and feel of him. I am awash with lust, literally vibrating at his touch.

He is ready to have me. His muscled arms, strong as steel cables, hoist me up and forward. My legs are sprayed to the side as he cradles me, allowing me to nuzzle his chest and suckle his nips. His musky, salty sweat is the finest nectar, and I am seized with craving. Our rigid, slickened dicks occasionally make contact as I wrestle my body against his, a sensation that brings me closer and closer to the edge.

Sensing this, he moves my ankles to his shoulders as his cock seeks its target. I feel it pressing against my asshole, poking, sliding up and down, tempting me, awaiting entry. I want to let him in. Smoke pours from his nostrils as the head of his dick penetrates me, and I am only barely aware of the pain, which eventually cedes to pleasure as I relax and accommodate his shaft. He explores me slowly at first, but soon he is thrusting with more and more vigor. I love the feeling of being fucked, relishing the honor of being used for Bull’s enjoyment. And he is certainly enjoying it; he tells me I’m the finest piece of ass he’s had in a long time, that he loves to take a hot young buck’s cherry.

Smoke erupts from his nostrils in time with his bucking and grunting, like some kind of industrial machine, until with his final push he spasms and I feel him shooting into my guts. The fullness inside me and his primal roar of release at last trigger my own orgasm and ropes of cum leap from my dick like a party favor, showering us both as I lose myself in toe-curling bliss that runs over my body in wave after wave. I’m completely exhausted. Bull says I should sleep now…. sleep now….

…..

I’m supposed to be on my way to surprise my girlfriend at her college for Valentine’s Day, but instead I’m stuck on the side of the road with my piece-of-shit car and no bars on my piece-of-shit phone. Fuck my life.

I was thinking of proposing to her, but I had a really strange dream. I can barely remember it but I’m somehow left with the feeling that I might be making a mistake.

But I can’t worry about that right now. My first priority is to find the nearest gas station and call for a tow. I start walking. It’s cold and I realize that wearing shorts was a bad idea. A few cars approach, and I stick my arm out and my thumb up and hope for the best, but they just pass by without even slowing. Could this day get any worse?

Wait, is… oh, thank God, a truck is pulling up! The driver seems a bit rednecky, but friendly enough, and I’m desperate. Hopefully he can help me get to where I need to be.

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