The Hitchhiker - Sex Stories

The Hitchhiker

The Christmas holiday break was coming to an end. It was great to come home and see my family. I hadn’t been home since I left in August. Now it was time to get back to school. The trip from where I live in Naples to Tallahassee is a little more than a seven-hour drive.

My Father was disappointed in my grades for the fall semester. After having a long conversation, he thought it best if I concentrated on my studies. He insisted that I leave my car at home for the semester and gave me money to take the bus to Florida State.

I looked up the schedule for the bus. It was crazy. A seven-hour drive by car takes twenty-one hours by bus. The bus makes over seventeen stops as it zig-zags across the state. I looked into flying but it was expensive and nothing was available for several days.

It hit me, pocket the money my Father gave me and hitchhike back to school. It is a straight shot up Interstate 75. It shouldn’t take much longer than if I drove my car, and I will have an extra hundred dollars to party with when I get back to my dorm.

The next morning, my parents drove me to the Greyhound terminal. Carrying a backpack with a hidden cardboard sign with large letters that read FSU, I said my goodbyes. As usual, my Mother cried. She always gets emotional when I leave. My Father gave me the evil eye and told me that I better pick up my grades or he wouldn’t pay for school. Then, he hugged me.

As soon as they left the building, I went out a different exit. The terminal ...

... was a short walk to the entrance ramp to the Interstate. I pulled out my sign and prominently displayed it for drivers to see. It was only a five-minute wait before a truck stopped. I ran up to the passenger door and climbed in. The driver was a young man. He told me he was heading to Bradenton, about two hours north. It was a good start.

Exactly two hours later, the truck was rolling down the exit ramp for Bradenton. It came to a stop, I grabbed my backpack, thanked the driver, and hopped out. I crossed the street to the northbound entrance ramp, pulled out my FSU sign, and waited. Time was at a crawl as I waited. I wasn’t as lucky getting a ride and started to regret my decision to thumb a ride rather than beg for my car. It was a half-hour when someone finally stopped.

A beautiful BMW Z4 pulled over. It was a convertible but, because it was a brisk sixty-three degrees out, the top was up. Too bad, it would have been fun driving with the top down. Like the first ride, I ran to the passenger door, opened it, and lowered myself into this high-performance roadster. As I settled in I looked at the driver. I laughed out loud when I realized that the person driving this land rocket was an old lady.

She looked at me and with a slight annoyance in her voice asked, “What the hell is so funny?”

The look on my face must have given me away; she knew. I was hoping she wouldn’t throw me out of the car. I waited too long for this ride.

With a sheepish look on my face I said, ...