I pulled back onto the highway and left the gas station behind. Four hours to go, give or take a few minutes. I’d be glad to leave Oklahoma behind—what a godawful state to drive through. And Tulsa—why would anyone live there?

I took a swig of my cold soda and pressed the Scan button on the radio for the hundredth time. I was sick to death of country music and my CDs had achieved overplay status about a week ago. I hadn’t had time to buy anything new.

“Gonna be a long drive,” I muttered as the radio found one staticky station after another. I spotted a hitchhiker ahead and slowed a bit, hoping for a hot chick. I laughed at that, knowing hot chicks did not hitchhike these days, if they wanted to keep breathing.

As expected, it was a man, although he was nearly good-looking enough to be a chick. He held a cardboard sign that read St. Louis. On a whim, I pulled over. He jogged over to the car and opened the passenger door. He stuck his head in and we mutually evaluated each other’s danger factor. He didn’t seem to be the serial killer type. As a salesman, I was usually dead-on when assessing peoples’ character.

“St. Louis?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, and the radio stations out here are shit. I could use some company.”
The blond man seemed to decide I was harmless, so he tossed his bag and jacket on the floorboard and climbed in. He did not look like a vagabond. He was well-dressed, in clean khakis and a red tee shirt. His features were handsome almost to the point of pretty, but he seemed muscular enough to defend himself, if necessary.

“I’m Roger,” I said as I throttled the car back up to speed.

“Scott,” he said.

I made small talk, explaining my job as an industrial chemical salesman, and gesturing at the sample containers in the back of the Tribeca.

“Giving away samples isn’t much fun,” I complained. “If I worked for Budweiser or Frito Lay, people would be leaping at samples. Not too many people want chemical solvents or lubricant.”

“Do you live in St. Louis?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, I live with my fiancé, Sandra. She’s pretty understanding of my constant traveling. Why are you going to St. Louis?”

Scott flushed slightly. “I’m going to stay with my mother for awhile. I had a fight with…” He broke off, seeming embarrassed.

“Wife? Girlfriend? Both?” I prodded jokingly.

“Boyfriend,” Scott admitted and looked at me challengingly. I didn’t drive off the road, but I was surprised. Scott didn’t seem gay at all. Not that I expected them all to wear pink, and talk with lisping voices, and act like they were worried about breaking a nail, but… well, maybe I sort of did.

“Is that a problem?” Scott asked nervously, probably because I hadn’t said anything.

“No. No, why should I care who you sleep with? It’s none of my business.”

“People do care, though, and not in a good way.”

“Yeah, especially out here in B. F. rural America. You’re brave to even bring it up. I could have been one of those hate freaks.”

Scott smiled. “I figured any man that has a crystal pendant hanging from his rear-view mirror couldn’t be a bigoted asshole.”

I glanced at the teardrop-shaped crystal that reflected the waning light from the sunset. I grinned.

“My fiancé. She’s sort of into the New Age thing. She told me this has some sort of protective qualities or something like that. Personally, I think it’s a load of crap, but if it makes her happy…”

I trailed off, thinking of Sandra and the nice hot sex I’d be having soon. Not tonight, because it would be late when I got home, but probably tomorrow.

Scott laughed. “The things we do to make other people happy.”

“So, what’s it like being gay?” I asked, and then felt like an idiot, because it seemed like a ridiculous question.

“The same as being straight, pretty much,” Scott said dryly.

“I mean the sex,” I said, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the road. I didn’t want Scott to get the idea that I was interested in him, even though he was awfully pretty, for a man. “I’m just curious.”

“Same as sex with woman, mostly. Skin, hands, mouths, holes. If it’s wet and slick, it’s all good, right?”

I nodded, never having considered it like that.

“Except…” Scott added and I shifted my eyes over to see him with a half-smile and his gaze far away. “Well, the nice thing about getting a blow job from a man… he knows what feels good. Men are better at that, I’ve found. Women just don’t seem to quite… get it.”

I grew unexpectedly warm at the words, especially the way Scott said them, with a seductive lilt that made me instantly think of a hot mouth sucking me off. God, I might have to wake up Sandra the minute I got home, late or not. My mouth was a bit dry when I spoke.

“That makes sense. My girlfriend is a lick-it-around-the-edges girl.”

Scott laughed huskily. “Poor you.”

I figured I’d better change the subject before I made an idiot out of myself and turned spontaneously gay just long enough to get my rocks off with a hitchhiker.

“Fighting with the boyfriend, eh? Is it serious?”

“I’m serious, but he’s not,” Scott said. “I want a more committed relationship, and he’s not ready. God, I sound like a total girl when I say that, don’t I? That’s what he says whenever I bring it up. Anyway, I decided to go home for a while and let him see what life without me is like. Maybe he’ll like it and it will be over.”

“Your mom knows you’re gay?”

“Yeah, and she thinks it’s cute. She’s kind of weird that way.”

“She doesn’t want grandkids?”

Scott shuddered. “I have sisters. They’re all breeders.”

“No parental dramatics, then?” I asked, thinking it was usually the parents that freaked out and wondered what they did wrong.

“My dad left when I was small, so I never really had to deal with that scene.”

I offered Scott a soda from the mini-cooler in the back. He reached back and pulled it out before returning to his seat and reattaching his seatbelt.

Scott tipped his head back when he drank and I noticed the smooth line of his neck. His hair looked very fine and glinted occasionally in the light of the approaching headlights on the other side of the freeway divider. If you were going to go for a man, I supposed you could do worse than Scott. I thought maybe his boyfriend was an idiot.

We talked about random things after that: childhood pets, and travel, and sibling stories. The time passed quickly and soon I was approaching the exit where Scott wanted to be let out. I didn’t feel quite right about booting him out in the middle of the night.

“Can I drop you somewhere safer?” I asked. “I don’t want your mother hunting me down when you don’t show up.”

“This is fine. Just pull into that Wal-Mart over there. She doesn’t live far. I’ll call and she’ll come down and pick me up.”

I did as he directed. The lot was well lit and a couple of RVs were parked in a corner. It seemed relatively safe. Scott opened his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill.

“This is all the cash I have on me,” he said. “Will you take it? For gas or whatever?”

I waved it away. “No, I had to make this drive anyway. It was nice to have some company to keep me awake.”

“Well, you saved my life. I could have been walking all night, or been picked up by some whacko,” he said as he put the money away and tucked his wallet back into a pocket.

“You really shouldn’t hitchhike. It can be really dangerous,” I said.

“Thanks, Dad,” Scott replied and grinned.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Scott paused with his hand on the door handle.

“Maybe there is I way I can repay you,” he said. I was about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but something in the tone of his voice stopped me. I waited. He swallowed.

“I could give you a blow job,” he said and his eyes flicked over and caught mine. I couldn’t look away, and suddenly wondered what color they were. Probably blue, but it was hard to tell in the dark. “Just so you’ll know what a good one is like.”

I could hardly speak, but I managed a small nod. “Um… okay.”

“Slide your seat back,” Scott said in what I figured was his bedroom voice, and it was pretty damned sexy. I slid my seat back and tilted it. Scott reached over and unbuckled my belt. I helped him slide my pants and briefs down, exposing my mostly-hard cock.
My breath hitched when he touched it, but his hands were warm and the instant his mouth closed over the head, I forgot that he was a guy. When he took the length of it and then sucked his way back to the tip, I forgot my own name. His tongue rolled over the head and dove into the slit several times, and I had to concentrate from thrusting forward mindlessly.

I had planned to keep my eyes shut and pretend he was a girl, but the sight was too captivating. His eyes met mine as he sucked hard at the head, and then rammed downward, taking it all the way—into his throat.

“Oh god,” I whimpered and then nearly swallowed my own tongue when Scott’s hands got in on the act. One hand wrapped around the base of my cock while the other fondled my balls. The cock-hand would twist every time Scott’s mouth ascended to suck and lick at my glans, and then move away when he took me back into his throat.

I whimpered and tried to keep from fucking his hot mouth as he moved faster and faster. His soft hair brushed against my abdomen with every down stroke, and I found my hands touching it gently, urging him on with every huffing breath that escaped my lips.

The pressure built to an unbearable level.

“Oh god, I’m gonna—”

And then I did, coming so hard I felt like my cock was going to combust. Scott took it all in without breaking his rhythm, and swallowed before sucking me completely dry. I was a limp, boneless lump when he was done. He probably could have cut my throat and taken my car, and I would have let him do it with a stupid grin on my face.

“Fuck,” I said as he sat back and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He smiled.

“Good?” he asked.

“Fucking incredible,” I said as I stirred myself enough to put Mr. Happy—and god, was he happy—back into my pants and zip up.

Scott opened the door and got out. He hefted his bag.

“Your boyfriend’s an idiot,” I said quickly.

He smiled softly. “Thanks, Roger.” He shut the door and headed for the store overhang.

No, thank you, I thought as I pulled away.