Free Story – Hitchhiking Ho

GET IT ALL! Become a Member and see ALL magazines and videos!

A horny hitchhiker who was ready to go all the way.

This was it. I was on my way to being a free man. I cut the wheel to my sports car, spinning sharply around the corner, leaving a strip of rubber as the ass end went out a few feet before I straightened her. Then it was all gas, hitting 85 mph on the wide-open road as I cut through miles of farmland.

At that speed, things come up on you pretty fast. So when I first saw her, she was little more than a dot along the side of the road. I sped by her like a blur, cruising fast, but I’d seen enough.

Her shirt fit so tightly that it was like an extra layer of flesh. Her large tits, obviously unencumbered beneath that t-shirt, shot me clean glimpses of hardened nipples. Eight­y-five is fast, but there are some things you can see at any speed.

Nothing was coming the other way, so I threw the car into a controlled spin. More rubber tattooed the asphalt as I accelerated back toward where I’d come from. Back toward her.

The windows were down, top down, so I rolled to a taxi-cab stop beside her. “Need a ride?” I called out over the purring engine.

She stopped, turned sideways, and bent over to see just who the hell was trying to pick her up. Her hair was a blonde-brown, cut in layers that hung over her shoulders. I took a quick glimpse of that before staring onto those hard nipples jutting into her t-shirt. “Which way you going?” she asked, neither smiling nor frowning.

I pointed straight ahead, “That way.”

Now she smiled. “I mean, where are you going? Where are you headed?”

“Well,” I replied, gesturing back over my shoulder, “I was going that way. But now…”

“Forget something?”

“Got a better offer. Look, why don’t you get in before some rodeo cowboy in a pickup truck comes barreling down this road and backsides us to the next town.”

She nodded, let herself in, and settled down on the front seat. “Nice whip,” she said, running her fingers over the dash. She had on denim cut-off shorts ripped up the side seams, so far up that half her ass hung out.

I put the car back in gear and sped up.

She said, “If you don’t watch the road, you might get us killed.”

Her tits looked even better from the side view, hanging full and heavy, and a perfectly alluring shape. “Yeah, but what a way to go.”

She giggled. “You’re a horny one, aren’t you?” She held her windswept hair away from her face.

We drove along in silence for a while, and then I asked her name.

“Chrissie.”

‘‘Tell me, Chrissie. How far do you go?”

“You mean where am I going?”

“No. How far do you go with a stranger? Someone you’ve never met before. Quick feel? Blowjob? Bang, maybe?”

“Hey, I’m just a clean-living farm girl.”

“Sure you are. That sounds like bullshit to me.” I patted her bare knee. “Open the glove box.”

She gave me a queer look, then shrugged and did as I’d said. “Holy shit!” The glove box was full of money. I had no idea how much.

“Jesus! The smallest one’s a hundred.”

“Want one?”

She held a crisp new bill between her fingers; her eyes were wide.

Christ, I thought, don’t salivate on the motherfucker or the ink will run.

“Want one?” I asked again.

She knew there’d be a payback, but it only made her think for a second before nodding yes.

“It’s yours,” I said, then turned down a winding side road that cut through tall lines of green-leafed trees. “Just take off your top.”

She stuffed the bill into the tight pocket of her cut-offs and peeled her shirt away, dropping it by her feet.

I reached over and grabbed a feel of her left tit, thrilled by the way it filled my grasp. We hit a bump and she jiggled heavily in my hand. “Fantastic,” I grinned.

Chrissie smiled, easily praised. She was catching on faster than most, making no attempt to cover her tits with her arms. Instead, she slipped another hundred from the glove compartment and looked at me.

“It’s yours. Just get out of those shorts.”

That bill went into her pocket along with the first, and she wriggled the tight-fitting denim down her hips, kicking it free over her feet. Her arms were at her sides as she shifted position in her seat to face me. Parting her legs, drawing one knee onto the console, she gave me an inviting look through her light-brown pussy hairs onto soft pink folds.

My fingers played with her, separating her vulva and poking inside. “I’ll get wet fast,” she promised. With my hand resting on her warm thigh, she pressed loving fingertips between her legs, masturbating her cunt, working up and down against her slit, sighing when her clit got primed. ‘‘Yes,” she panted. “It’s getting there. Oh, yes. I’m getting wet for you.” Her eyes were darting from my eyes to the glove box—and all that money.

I massaged her pussy, slipping two fingers inside. She had gotten very wet, very fast. “I’m impressed,” I smiled, then nodded for her to take another bill. She secured it, looking greedily hungry now. “What else? What else do you want me to do?”

I stopped the car. We were close to the river. All alone. A much untraveled area of the county. “That’s it, babe,” I said, playing with her. ‘‘Take your bucks and skip out.”

That stunned her. “What? No, really. I’ll do anything you want me to. Want to see me dance? I can really dance. Watch; you won’t be sorry.” She didn’t even look to see if anyone else was around. Chrissie jumped out of the car and started dancing, throwing back her shoulders, arms out to her sides, jiggling those twin beauties like tits were meant to be jiggled.

Her hands went down her lean flanks, on to her ass, spanking herself, then coming over her thighs and going into her cunt. She dropped to her knees in front of the car, bent over backwards and sent her hands diving in between her legs. She pulled open her pussy, showing me a wide spread of satin wetness. “Take me,” she cried. “See how wet I am for you.”

My cock was about ready to burst in my pants, but I kept up the poker face. “Doesn’t do anything for me,” I said, leaning on the door.

Chrissie rolled onto her ass, getting a light coating of road dust on her tanned skin. She saw a thick- trunked tree alongside the road and ran to it. Bracing her back against the stiff-looking bark, she raised her arms above her head, grabbing vines that wrapped around the tree. God, was this girl hot.

The absolute cream of the creamy crop. I’d seen a lot and my head was still spinning. I should have gotten an Academy Award for what I did next, which was to shrug and say, “Sorry.” Chrissie dropped to her knees. “What do you want?” She grabbed her tits and shook herself. “Anything. Fuck me. Any position. Up the ass.” She licked her lips. “I’ll blow you—and swallow.”

That good an actor I ain’t. Besides, I’d gotten a good string of freebies there.

Chrissie was practically ecstatic when I got out of the car. “Yes! Yes! I knew I could do something else for you. A blow job. Is that what you want?” She knelt in front of my legs and yanked my belt free, then tore my zipper down so hard it practically ripped out of my pants. She had my cock in her hands, stroking it, and then lapped her saliva­coated tongue all over my shaft, taking me into her mouth, sucking with a fantastic passion as more and more of my length disappeared through her lips.

Chrissie had a way of giving head that made it seem like her tongue was everywhere all at once. And the way her cheeks squeezed in and out… There was nothing for me to do but hang onto that beautiful long blonde mane and ride her mouth. I was thrilled by the sight of my cock as it plunged through her wet lips.

The first spasm of my dick set off bright climaxing lights behind my eyes. Things were really spinning now, and wad after wad of pulsing cum blasted into Chrissie’s mouth. She gulped it down, her tongue never stopping.

It seemed like she could make a come last forever, pushing her fingers lightly against my balls to get every last drop of cum shooting into her mouth. Chrissie was still stroking and sucking when my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the ground beside her. Even then she came down on top of me, licking my spent cock clean, kissing my balls.

Some ‘clean-livin’ farm girl!’ I gave her two hundred more for the blowjob and another hundred to ride back to the main road without her t-shirt on. What the hell did I care? It wasn’t my money. It wasn’t even my car.

Which is why as soon as I dropped her at some out-of-the way shopping center, I parked the car behind a row of trees and made a call.

“What the hell happened to you, Kemp?” the voice demanded at the other end of the line.  “You were supposed to dump that stuff and get back here.”

“Yeah, well…” This was great; I’d phoned in without thinking of an excuse. Finally I thought of something. “Cops.”

“Cops? Holy fuck. Were you busted?” There was panic in Frank’s voice.

“Um, no. Just running.”

“Where are you, Kemp? We’ll send help.”

“No, Frank. No… uh, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Shit! I gotta go.” I jammed down the phone. Hopefully that did it.

Just then I saw Chrissie bounce out of the convenience store with a girlfriend. She was showing her friend the money. How nice. And walking toward a bank. Oh, fuck. My clean-livin’, blowjob-suckin’ farm girl was going to put the money in her goddamned college fund. Jackshit! I ran to the car and took off. Fifteen miles later I ran out of back roads. I ditched the car and then, looking as much a country boy as any city hustler can, I strolled toward the main road.

Luck happened to be in the breeze the same direction as I’d headed, because half a mile away I came across a kindly lady having a yard sale. She either had a son or husband about my size, who’d tired of wearing the same clothes, and in the midst of some faded dresses was a half-decent looking suit that fit me like it was tailor-made. Ah, to be average sized.

She looked a little suspicious at me when I paid her with a hundred dollar bill, so I kidded, “Just printed them in the basement this morning.” She chuckled. I wasn’t lying, so I told her to keep the change, then laid low till dark.

There was a chic little town nearby that was trying to be Georgetown and failing. But the bars drew a good crowd even during the week, so I blended in.

It was time to play what-will-you do-for-a-hundred-bucks again, so I started looking into the eyes of the female patrons. By the time you’ve hustled a few hundred people, you pick up little clues almost by second nature. That’s because once a hustler always a hustler means you’ve got to keep hustling, which means you’ve got to keep from getting caught.

She was sitting smack dab in the middle of the bar, surrounded by five guys who were all trying to seem inconspicuous as they pawed at her and bought her drinks. She had shoulder-length brown hair that was thick and loosely curled. She wore a mini-dress, blue with red-and-white patterns running across it, and light-tanned cowboy boots. The front of the mini-dress buttoned, but she didn’t bother with any fastening mechanisms besides a belt at the waist.

I caught the bartender’s attention and ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne he had.

“Cost you one-fifty,” he said, obviously thinking he was going to make me pass out on the spot.

I flashed him a wad of hundreds. “No sweat.”

He raised his eyebrows and went off after the bubbly, as they called it in back in the day.

I waited until the bottle was uncorked with an effervescent pop in front of my lady mark. Her would-be fuckers eyed one another wondering who was paying for this latest ride.

Walking in my best-practiced swagger, I eased between the three dudes to her right, whipped out the hundreds, slapped two on the bar, and said, “Keep the change,” to my new bartender friend.

The lady’s eyes sparkled. She had hooks she was moving into position to sink into my libido. I played along, oh so innocent, as the other five guys, my ex-competition, faded into the background of noisy music and swirling dancers.

I poured her a glass, giving her time to shift sideways so that I could see down the front of her mini-dress.

Her diamond earrings sparkled. No doubt they were a gift from a previously pleasured man she’d known. ‘What’s your name?” she asked, sipping about two bucks worth of champagne.

“Kemp.” I kept one eye on the bartender, glad to see that he simply shoved my two hundreds into the register, too busy to walk them past the boss’s eyes in the back room.

“Never seen you here before.”

“Never been.”

She crossed her right leg over the left and out slid a whole lot of thigh. “Like it here?” she smiled, rubbing her legs slightly up and down in the most provocative way.

“I do now.”

First her knee touched mine, and then she brushed her thigh against my leg. The whole time she watched my crotch, smiling when she saw the material bulging. “My, my,” she cooed. Her fingers quickly ran inside my leg, glancing like a feather over my crotch. “About nine inches.”

The chick was either too quick with flattery or a bad judge of distance. She said, “I could use some of that right about now. It’s been a while. And warm weather gets me so… hot.”

What a pro, I thought. She must have been able to melt these locals with a single twist of her hips. But I could play a sucker as good as the next guy. I said, “Why don’t we take this with us?” as I grasped the champagne bottle by the neck, her by the waist, and headed for the door.

We went to her place in her Mercedes. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she’d nailed some horny doctor for the car and was set up in a pad by some corporate exec that’d tired of working 12- hour days and faking it with his wife. I assumed both the doctor and the corporate boy had family obligations Wednesday nights.

Her townhouse smelled like a mix of perspiration and the perfume of a woman just about to come.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she offered, pointing to a very soft looking sofa. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink all the champagne.”

I watched her strut down the hall toward, I assumed, her bedroom. Halfway there she stripped out of her dress, carrying it in her hand as she walked naked.

I followed and caught her posed by her four-poster bed, about to slip into a pink teddy. “Don’t bother,” I said, taking the lingerie from her grasp and throwing it onto the plush carpet.

Her lips came to mine, filling my mouth with a sweet-tasting tongue. Her firm breasts felt tender and full in my hands as I massaged her nipples into erections.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” I moaned, forcing my body to quiver all over like I was losing control. The hard-on in my pants went well with the act. “Yes,” she panted, returning the performance. Then again, maybe she was into it.

By that time she was spread-eagled across the quilted comforter, showing a puffy view of soft pussy lips between a slip of curling hair.

“Do it to me,” she urged. “Fuck me.”

I stripped and settled my weight between her held-open legs. She looked so good, sounded so vulnerable, that I had to fight not to get too carried away.

“Suck my tits,” she urged. “Go ahead. Do them. Do them!” Then again, what the hell.

My fingertips caressed her breasts; softly at first, then with an increasing tension that had her yelping. The pressure in my cock was intense. Being with chicks who like it a little rough does that for me. And she really seemed turned on by it. Her pussy was overflowing with a wet passion that came onto the insides of her thighs.

“What a body,” I moaned. “Fuck me. Now. Put it inside me.” She hoisted her ass up from the mattress, and then bounced down onto it, shaking her whole body.

I thrust into her and become immediately lost to the hot wet squeeze of her pussy. Boy, this girl knew how to move her ass beneath me—side to side, turning slightly, raising, and lowering.

She gasped. “All the way. In and out. In and out. Fill me with it.” Her jaws gritted together, separating only when the cries of her orgasm burst from her throat. I pumped harder now. Faster. Feeling the entire length of my shaft primed. That first burst of passion bit through my loins, then the second bit, followed by flowing jets of ecstasy that filled her with my semen. “Keep your cock inside me,” she whispered.”

And so I did. Long enough to scout through her apartment and pick up a few items—gold jewelry, anything with large diamonds in it, the easily fencible stuff. And I took the Mercedes keys, of course.

It was one in the morning when I left her. First I’d made sure she was sound asleep, because I needed all the head start I could get. The Mercedes ran like a charm, missing a little up at the 90 mph range, but it got me out of the state and halfway through the next by sun-up.

I had a smile-filled reunion with a fence I’d almost gone to jail with five years ago. He gave me a grand for the jewelry. And 10 cents on the dollar for the counterfeit bills I’d stolen from my now ex-boss the day before. And the Mercedes was worth four grand. All of which left me with five Gs and some change.

Mexico was a bit south, but before I crossed the border I made a call to my ex-boss’s right-hand man. “Hey, Frankie!”

“Where are you, Kemp? You were supposed to dump those counterfeit bills, not spend them, you asshole. Marino’s gonna have your balls, boy. Just so happens a friend of ours saw you blowing a wad at some bar last night. If he’d have called in sooner, we’d have had your cock cooking with the other sausages for breakfast. Your quick exit saved you. For the time being.”

“Frankie, you sound so serious. It’ll stir up your ulcer. I’m just calling to say goodbye. I think it’s called rubbing it in.”

“Kemp, you little—”

“Bye-bye, Frankie.” I hung up. And that was that. For years I had dreamed of being my own boss. Of giving up playing the Big Man’s go-fer, gunner, sweet talker, and conniver. I knew I was good enough to make it on my own.

The American Dream. Start with a few G’s worth of poorly printed counterfeit hundreds and turn them into five thousand real bucks within 24 hours.

Now, over the border into crime ridden Mexico, where the American dollar buys lots more than what it did two years ago. Time to play a little “What-will-you-do-for-ciento-pesos, senorita?”

Ah, the beauty of free enterprise.