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BACKSEAT DRIVER
By Hank Edwards
(Honch
ctober.2000.)
Why is it that a majority of the men I consider downright sexy are the ones who drive the most beat up, pieces-of-shit cars? What kind of karmic influence in the universe has gotten me to the point where I accelerate to catch up with some of the worst Bondo mobiles on the road today just to catch a glimpse of the driver? Now, I'm not saying every guy driving a demolition derby dropout is a fine piece of man meat, but there have been several men who have that certain something. You know what 1 mean. They're not the pretty boys: the handsome ones who get everything they want just by smiling a dazzling smile that Mommy and Daddy paid for. These captains of junk are the ones with the sly grins and the dark, pierce-you-to-the-bone eyes and the working class bodies that were built to fuck. They're the ones who put in hours of physical labor each day, be it on the assembly line, in a plant or in a shop. They work with their hands and use that time to think up ways to fuck that none of those pretty boys would even dare to try. They're the Stanley Kowalskis and I want to be Their Streetcar Named Desire.
I just happened to come across one such specimen on a day many, many years ago. I was driving to the hardware store and pulled up next to a beaten old jalopy, something that used to be one color and was now patched and dented and barely recognizable as an American make at all. I glanced over, then did a quick double take. He was fantastic, a real man's man: strong features, dark hair cut short, sideburns a touch too long, three day growth of beard, mustache, dirty red ball cap. He felt my gaze and turned his head, fixing me with brilliant blue eyes that blasted any pretense of idle curiosity out of my system and forced me to gasp quietly.
I had to have him. I needed him to run his rough hands over me, invade my body with his fingers and thick, throbbing cock. I wanted his three day scruff to scratch over my clean shaven balls and smooth stomach. I had to feel his hot shots of
spray across my chest and throat as he straddled me and grunted his way through his orgasm.
I realized I was staring and, having found that these men were predominantly straight and did not take kindly to being sized up by another man, I turned quickly away and stared at the traffic light. In my peripheral vision, I could sense him watching me. I didn't dare look back, afraid of what curses and dark looks might greet me. When the light changed, I stomped the accelerator and shot across the intersection, leaving his beat up wreck behind in a matter of seconds. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to lose the erection that had sprung up at the sight of him, but it was no good. I would have to get off before I could complete any semblance of shopping.
At the hardware store, I saw one of those huge warehouse types so I pulled around to the back and backed my car down the driveway into the loading dock. I was out of sight of anyone who happened to pull around the corner. I doubted the store would be receiving a shipment anytime within the 10 minutes it would take me to finish my business. I was safe and unobserved. I shifted the car into park, reached down to ease the seat back and stroked my bulging cock through the faded denim of my weekend jeans.
Easing the zipper of my jeans down, I pulled my cock out and ran my hand along the nine inch shaft. The head throbbed in time with my pulse as I spit into my palm and began to stroke myself, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I thought of the man at the light and imagined him following me to this spot and interrupting me in my jerking off with an offer to help.
Imagine my surprise when a deep voice said softly from the passenger side of the car, "Looks like you could use a hand with that." I jumped and banged my knee on the underside of the dashboard that elicited a high yelp from my otherwise masculine form. I looked over and found the sexy junk driver leaning in the open passenger window, his forearms crossed lazily on the door frame. His mouth was curled up at one corner, wrinkling up the corner of one eye. "That's a mighty big handful to take on all by yourself." He lifted his head and glanced into the backseat, then turned his dazzling gaze back on me.
"Why don't we get in back here and maybe we can help each other?'
I was dumbfounded. 1 had had one nighter sexual encounters before, but those men I had met at bars and had to go through the motions of wordplay and buying drinks before we could get to the sex. Before I could think to answer, he had opened the backdoor and gotten inside. Dumbfounded, 1 got out and stepped to the back door on my side to slide in beside him.
Before we could speak, he grabbed my face in his hands, the rough skin of his palms thrilling me as they scratched over my cheeks. His mouth found mine and his tongue dove past my lips, searing hot as it raced along my tongue and over my teeth. His lips were soft and full, and the hairs of his mustache and scruff grazed along my bare upper lip. I sucked up his tongue, refusing lo lei it go for a long moment as I reached out and felt his hard chest through the flannel shirt he wore over a black T-shirt. He moaned into my mouth, then pulled back and started fumbling his shirt off. I followed suit and before long, we were both sitting nude in the backseat.
His cock was thick, beer can thick, and pointed out away from his body. It was about eight inches long and bounced in time with his movements as he leaned down to swallow my shaft down his hot throat. He sucked me for all he was worth as I reached around and grabbed his own hard cock. I began stroking him in time with his cock sucking and felt myself getting close. I had been primed all day; it wouldn't take long for me to get off.
As if he sensed how close I was, he stopped and sat up, then gently pulled my head into his lap. 1 opened my mouth and took his cock down to the root. He grunted and moaned and I started sliding up and down his wet pole, increasing the suction with each trip. His hands landed on the back of my head and held it steady as his hips began lifting off the vinyl seat and slapping back down again. He was fucking my face with abandon, grunting with each thrust as the head of his thick cock brushed against the back of my throat.
"Suck that cock," he moaned. "Yeah, take that fat cock."
Suddenly, he pulled my face up out of his lap and slid me onto my back.
"I'm going to fuck you hard and deep," he whispered in my ear. "You got a problem with that?"
"Not one," I replied and obligingly lifted my legs to expose my tight pink hole. He spit into it and rubbed his rough fingers across the tender skin, smiling his crooked smile as it puckered and opened beneath his caress. "Yeah, that hole is just begging to be fucked."
"Spit all over that fat cock and put it in me," I instructed him. "I want to feel you inside me!"
He did as requested and I gasped as he pushed his hot throbbing cock into me. It slid in slowly up to the hilt, stopping just before I thought I would explode from the size of it. I reached up and ran my hand through the thin line of dark hair that trailed down from between his pecs to the smooth flat skin of his stomach and down farther to the dark patch of pubic hair that stood guard around his cock.
"You like that big cock in your ass?" he asked, leaning down to kiss me and run his tongue into my mouth.
"Oh, yeah," I said. I closed my eyes and grabbed my ankles, pulling my legs back further and letting him go to town on my ass. He pummeled his cock into me, slamming it in deep and pulling it nearly all the way out before slamming it in again. He was driving his cock into my ass with a furious pace, fucking me with abandon. I felt myself getting ready to and tried to hold back: I didn't want it to end. He leaned down and put his face beside mine, the scruff from his cheeks scratching my ear and neck. When he turned his head and slipped his tongue in my ear, I lost all control and reached down to grab my cock and jerk it to completion.
My load shot up to my chin, splattering us both with hot, slick. He leaned back and plugged my ass with his cock, his blue eyes staring at the thick white on my chest and throat. Reaching down, he scooped up a puddle of and stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked my jizz from his skin. His eyes closed and he moaned and then reached down to wipe up another serving.
"There's nothing like the taste of hot to get me going," he said and, incredibly, picked up the pace of his thrusts. My ass was being pounded like never before and 1 felt my cock growing hard again. He threw his head back and opened his mouth as if to shout out loud, but nothing came out except a breathless croak.
"I'mming," he managed to say and pulled out of me. He jerked himself off over my chest and sent a long hot stream of firing up to my face and chest. I thought he would never stop. There were six, maybe seven shots of , each larger than the first. I was drenched with . I couldn't believe it; I'd never seen so much .
Swiping a handful off my chest, I used it to lather up my newly hard cock and jerked off with my right hand as I held onto his slowly deflating cock with my left. I shot another full load up along my stomach that he immediately scooped up, mixed with his own and sucked off his fingers.
With a warm soft kiss, my hot, sexy, trashy car drivin' man cleaned himself off with his black T-shirt, pulled on his jeans and flannel shirt, and stepped out of my car. He walked to where he had left his own car parked across the back lot and drove off without as much as a wave. It wasn't until then that I realized I hadn't even found out his name.
These days as I drive down the street, I keep half an eye open for my sexy driver. I haven't found the same man I came across all those years ago, but I've had a hell of a lot of fun looking for him.
-------------------------
Thanks to the original poster in Yahoo! gaymagazinefiction group!
Enjoy
By Hank Edwards
(Honch
ctober.2000.)Why is it that a majority of the men I consider downright sexy are the ones who drive the most beat up, pieces-of-shit cars? What kind of karmic influence in the universe has gotten me to the point where I accelerate to catch up with some of the worst Bondo mobiles on the road today just to catch a glimpse of the driver? Now, I'm not saying every guy driving a demolition derby dropout is a fine piece of man meat, but there have been several men who have that certain something. You know what 1 mean. They're not the pretty boys: the handsome ones who get everything they want just by smiling a dazzling smile that Mommy and Daddy paid for. These captains of junk are the ones with the sly grins and the dark, pierce-you-to-the-bone eyes and the working class bodies that were built to fuck. They're the ones who put in hours of physical labor each day, be it on the assembly line, in a plant or in a shop. They work with their hands and use that time to think up ways to fuck that none of those pretty boys would even dare to try. They're the Stanley Kowalskis and I want to be Their Streetcar Named Desire.
I just happened to come across one such specimen on a day many, many years ago. I was driving to the hardware store and pulled up next to a beaten old jalopy, something that used to be one color and was now patched and dented and barely recognizable as an American make at all. I glanced over, then did a quick double take. He was fantastic, a real man's man: strong features, dark hair cut short, sideburns a touch too long, three day growth of beard, mustache, dirty red ball cap. He felt my gaze and turned his head, fixing me with brilliant blue eyes that blasted any pretense of idle curiosity out of my system and forced me to gasp quietly.
I had to have him. I needed him to run his rough hands over me, invade my body with his fingers and thick, throbbing cock. I wanted his three day scruff to scratch over my clean shaven balls and smooth stomach. I had to feel his hot shots of
spray across my chest and throat as he straddled me and grunted his way through his orgasm.I realized I was staring and, having found that these men were predominantly straight and did not take kindly to being sized up by another man, I turned quickly away and stared at the traffic light. In my peripheral vision, I could sense him watching me. I didn't dare look back, afraid of what curses and dark looks might greet me. When the light changed, I stomped the accelerator and shot across the intersection, leaving his beat up wreck behind in a matter of seconds. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to lose the erection that had sprung up at the sight of him, but it was no good. I would have to get off before I could complete any semblance of shopping.
At the hardware store, I saw one of those huge warehouse types so I pulled around to the back and backed my car down the driveway into the loading dock. I was out of sight of anyone who happened to pull around the corner. I doubted the store would be receiving a shipment anytime within the 10 minutes it would take me to finish my business. I was safe and unobserved. I shifted the car into park, reached down to ease the seat back and stroked my bulging cock through the faded denim of my weekend jeans.
Easing the zipper of my jeans down, I pulled my cock out and ran my hand along the nine inch shaft. The head throbbed in time with my pulse as I spit into my palm and began to stroke myself, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I thought of the man at the light and imagined him following me to this spot and interrupting me in my jerking off with an offer to help.
Imagine my surprise when a deep voice said softly from the passenger side of the car, "Looks like you could use a hand with that." I jumped and banged my knee on the underside of the dashboard that elicited a high yelp from my otherwise masculine form. I looked over and found the sexy junk driver leaning in the open passenger window, his forearms crossed lazily on the door frame. His mouth was curled up at one corner, wrinkling up the corner of one eye. "That's a mighty big handful to take on all by yourself." He lifted his head and glanced into the backseat, then turned his dazzling gaze back on me.
"Why don't we get in back here and maybe we can help each other?'
I was dumbfounded. 1 had had one nighter sexual encounters before, but those men I had met at bars and had to go through the motions of wordplay and buying drinks before we could get to the sex. Before I could think to answer, he had opened the backdoor and gotten inside. Dumbfounded, 1 got out and stepped to the back door on my side to slide in beside him.
Before we could speak, he grabbed my face in his hands, the rough skin of his palms thrilling me as they scratched over my cheeks. His mouth found mine and his tongue dove past my lips, searing hot as it raced along my tongue and over my teeth. His lips were soft and full, and the hairs of his mustache and scruff grazed along my bare upper lip. I sucked up his tongue, refusing lo lei it go for a long moment as I reached out and felt his hard chest through the flannel shirt he wore over a black T-shirt. He moaned into my mouth, then pulled back and started fumbling his shirt off. I followed suit and before long, we were both sitting nude in the backseat.
His cock was thick, beer can thick, and pointed out away from his body. It was about eight inches long and bounced in time with his movements as he leaned down to swallow my shaft down his hot throat. He sucked me for all he was worth as I reached around and grabbed his own hard cock. I began stroking him in time with his cock sucking and felt myself getting close. I had been primed all day; it wouldn't take long for me to get off.
As if he sensed how close I was, he stopped and sat up, then gently pulled my head into his lap. 1 opened my mouth and took his cock down to the root. He grunted and moaned and I started sliding up and down his wet pole, increasing the suction with each trip. His hands landed on the back of my head and held it steady as his hips began lifting off the vinyl seat and slapping back down again. He was fucking my face with abandon, grunting with each thrust as the head of his thick cock brushed against the back of my throat.
"Suck that cock," he moaned. "Yeah, take that fat cock."
Suddenly, he pulled my face up out of his lap and slid me onto my back.
"I'm going to fuck you hard and deep," he whispered in my ear. "You got a problem with that?"
"Not one," I replied and obligingly lifted my legs to expose my tight pink hole. He spit into it and rubbed his rough fingers across the tender skin, smiling his crooked smile as it puckered and opened beneath his caress. "Yeah, that hole is just begging to be fucked."
"Spit all over that fat cock and put it in me," I instructed him. "I want to feel you inside me!"
He did as requested and I gasped as he pushed his hot throbbing cock into me. It slid in slowly up to the hilt, stopping just before I thought I would explode from the size of it. I reached up and ran my hand through the thin line of dark hair that trailed down from between his pecs to the smooth flat skin of his stomach and down farther to the dark patch of pubic hair that stood guard around his cock.
"You like that big cock in your ass?" he asked, leaning down to kiss me and run his tongue into my mouth.
"Oh, yeah," I said. I closed my eyes and grabbed my ankles, pulling my legs back further and letting him go to town on my ass. He pummeled his cock into me, slamming it in deep and pulling it nearly all the way out before slamming it in again. He was driving his cock into my ass with a furious pace, fucking me with abandon. I felt myself getting ready to
and tried to hold back: I didn't want it to end. He leaned down and put his face beside mine, the scruff from his cheeks scratching my ear and neck. When he turned his head and slipped his tongue in my ear, I lost all control and reached down to grab my cock and jerk it to completion.My load shot up to my chin, splattering us both with hot, slick
. He leaned back and plugged my ass with his cock, his blue eyes staring at the thick white on my chest and throat. Reaching down, he scooped up a puddle of and stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked my jizz from his skin. His eyes closed and he moaned and then reached down to wipe up another serving."There's nothing like the taste of hot
to get me going," he said and, incredibly, picked up the pace of his thrusts. My ass was being pounded like never before and 1 felt my cock growing hard again. He threw his head back and opened his mouth as if to shout out loud, but nothing came out except a breathless croak."I'm
ming," he managed to say and pulled out of me. He jerked himself off over my chest and sent a long hot stream of firing up to my face and chest. I thought he would never stop. There were six, maybe seven shots of , each larger than the first. I was drenched with . I couldn't believe it; I'd never seen so much .Swiping a handful off my chest, I used it to lather up my newly hard cock and jerked off with my right hand as I held onto his slowly deflating cock with my left. I shot another full load up along my stomach that he immediately scooped up, mixed with his own and sucked off his fingers.
With a warm soft kiss, my hot, sexy, trashy car drivin' man cleaned himself off with his black T-shirt, pulled on his jeans and flannel shirt, and stepped out of my car. He walked to where he had left his own car parked across the back lot and drove off without as much as a wave. It wasn't until then that I realized I hadn't even found out his name.
These days as I drive down the street, I keep half an eye open for my sexy driver. I haven't found the same man I came across all those years ago, but I've had a hell of a lot of fun looking for him.
-------------------------
Thanks to the original poster in Yahoo! gaymagazinefiction group!
Enjoy
