Hippie Hitcher
Copyright 1992 by Furr
Originally published in issue #6 of Hippie Dick!

The northern coast of California is an interesting place to live. Not only is it, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful places on the face of Mother Earth, but there are all kinds of interesting people you'd never run into in big cities. Lots of loggers, though they're going through some tough times lately. There are quite a few Harley Biker types, there are those who grow all the pot that the region is semi-famous for -- and there are a surprising number of people who seem to be right out of a time-warp to the '60s. [Not that I mean to imply that these groups are exclusive. I know a few that qualify for all four. I qualify for more than one myself.] There are even a couple well established collectives (nobody uses the word "commune" any more) that have been going continuously since that time.

This is all by way of saying that it was hardly a surprise to see a young man with a bushy beard and moderately long hair along the side of the road with his thumb out, his pack and guitar case leaning against his legs.

I sized him up pretty quickly and decided to stop. He dropped his pack in the bed of my pickup and climbed into the cab, resting the guitar case between his knees.

"Thanks! I'm Josh." As I shook his offered hand, I took in his grubby, patched Levis, the hiking boots and the flannel shirt he wore over a union suit that had probably been white at some point in the past. His light brown beard was bristly and dense, cropped about two inches long, and his hair came down just past his shoulders.

"I'm Ike," I said as he ran the same sort of evaluation on me; my beard and hair being dark brown with some gray at the chin and temples, and distinctly longer than Josh's -- my hair comes down nearly to my belt line. My engineer boots were the only difference between us, clothing-wise.

Being as I live alone and don't subscribe to the Madison Avenue idea that a healthy human body stinks unless it's scrubbed and perfumed, I was pleased to note the dark wet patches under Josh's arms as he stretched in the seat, and the male musk that they filled the cab with.

"How far you goin'?" I asked.

"I'm headed for Seattle, but I'm in no big hurry. I wanted to see the country and meet people, so I gave myself plenty of time."

"Well, I can't take you all the way to Seattle," I grinned, "but I can take you about thirty miles down this road."

"What happens then?"

"That's where I turn off to my place. Now, by then it'll be gettin' on to dark and my turnoff's in the middle of nowhere. If you want a warm place to sleep, I've got space."

He looked pleased. "That's truly nice of you; I'll take you up on that as long as it's no bother."

"Not at all. While I like my privacy, it's nice to have a little company every so often... particularly someone who can stand the way I smell."

I'd put my right arm up across the back of the seat, displaying the sweat-stained armpit of my own shirt and intensifying my aroma to the point I could smell myself. Rather than looking repulsed or offended, Josh looked _hungry_. Just what I was hoping to see.

"I know what you mean, Ike... a lot of drivers have passed me by once they got a closer look and a sniff of me." He grinned. "Frankly, I think I meet a better class of people this way!"

That started us talking about some of the bizzare conventions society at large in the US has, from Deodorant As Religion to women shaving their legs to men being required to circumcise their faces daily.

"I'll be *damned* if I'm going to scrape my face with a sharpened metal fragment on a daily basis because some twit is scared of his own masculinity.... Damn, looks like I'm not gonna make it."

Josh's head snapped around in alarm as I started popping open fly buttons and hauling out my cock. "I *knew* I shouldn't have had that last mug of coffee...."

The stream of piss escaped my foreskin-covered dickhead to splatter on the clutch pedal, then (I knew from experience) it would leak out through the holes in the beat-up truck's floor. I watched Josh out of the corner of my eye, and he looked even hungrier for a minute, then recovered smoothly.

"Damn, this is worse than hearing someone talk about waterfalls and ocean surf...." He popped open his own fly buttons, and scooped out his cock and balls, aiming his dick across the transmission hump towards my feet, so he wouldn't piss on his guitar.

Where my piss had been damn little but warm water, his was thick and yellow; I tucked my cock back into my pants before the smell of it could make me hard. I'd just gotten myself put away when a bump in the road sent Josh's stream across my pant leg, from ankle to knee. My cock went full hard, and as I looked over at him and saw the look on his face, I grinned at him and said, "'Bout five minutes to home."

It was truly comic the way we pretended nothing was out of the ordinary as Josh helped me move the supplies from the truck into my cabin, even though my fly was still open, showing plenty of crotch fur, if little actual flesh. The instant the last of the stuff was in the cabin and the door was closed, my tongue went into Josh's mouth and he wrapped himself around me.

Kissing is an art that few people are really good at, especially those in their mid-20s, where I estimated Josh to be -- which is why I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was one of the other experts on the subject.

Part of it, I suppose, is not to impatiently run headlong for sex involving cock, balls, butt and so on, but to see soul kissing (I've always thought that phrase to be particularly apt) as a kind of lovemaking just as important as any other. I lost track of how long we simply stood there, hugging and touching and rubbing as we made love with lips and tongue.

Given that Josh was a couple inches shorter than my 6'3, my neck and legs started to ache after a while, so -- without breaking the kiss -- I drew him over to the couch and laid him down on top of me, where we extended our kissing from the mouth and lips to ears, nose, eyes and beard. [If you've never had someone gently lick across your closed eyelids, or nibble his way up through your beard from your Adam's Apple to your chin, you have my deepest pity.]

We eventually broke our marathon kiss, Josh rising up on his arms -- which ground his crotch into mine. I unbuttoned his shirt down to his belt, then did the same with his union suit. My palms slid easily across his sweat-slicked chestfur, and he shuddered with pleasure as my hands grazed his nipples. I noted that for the future and moved my hands on to their goal -- his armpits. I got a good handful of sweat in each one, then withdrew (making sure to graze over those nipples again). I snorted the sweat from one hand while I licked it from the fingers of the other. As I did, I felt Josh start to unbutton my own shirt, and then my own union suit.

"Why don't we just get these clothes off and get on with it?" I asked him.

"Sounds good to me. Just keep yer union suit on, alright?"

I grinned at him. "Just what I was going to tell you to do."

We got up and kicked off boots, shucked our shirts and dropped our pants. I led Josh into my bedroom and laid him down on the bed, unbuttoning his suit all the way down. I straddled him and started sucking sweat out of the dense patch of fur over his breastbone, my tongue following the natural whorls of hair out to his erect nipples.

He hissed and humped up against me as I lapped and nibbled at his nipples, and continued to do so as my tongue ranged further out, and finally into his wet, musky armpit. I rasped my beard through his soaked pit-fur, wanting to keep some of that intoxicating smell for later, then tongue-washed him from halfway down his bicep to the middle of his ribcage.

When he realized he could get his face into my opposite armpit as I worked on him, we wound up in a sweat-slurping "69" that lasted until both of us had rasped our tongues raw on each other's armpits and chest.

In my explorations, I discovered that Josh had a fairly typical pattern of fur -- quite a bit across his pecs, and a thick line down his belly to his pubes, in contrast to the even carpet that covered my front from collarbone to crotch.

As we lay there catching our breath, Josh worked my cock out of the crotch of my suit, sucking a bit at the wet spot where I had been leaking precum. I could tell he was a little surprised to see the head still fully covered with foreskin with my dick fully hard.

"Lots of skin there for you to play with...." Josh just winked at me as he slipped his tongue in between my cockhead and foreskin, and started working it around. After he'd worked spit around the whole periphery, he skinned me back so I could watch him suck the sharp cheese off my dick. The last of it he carefully rubbed into his moustache, then slid up my body grinding his fur against mine.

We kissed briefly as I felt him fumbling around a bit, then broke the kiss as he sat up. His hand greased my cock, then he lifted up and held open the rear flap of his suit as he lowered himself onto my fat prong. He took it slowly in one steady push until he was all the way down, then worked his hips in a circle and started levering himself up and down with his legs, fucking himself on my dick.

I reached up and grabbed hold of his nipples, which made him instantly pick up his riding tempo; his hands were busy, with one on my chest to keep him steady, and the other stroking his cock.

"Oh, yeah... big fat uncut meat up my hairy ass feels SO good... I just can't hold it, Ike, here it COMES!"

Incredible gobs of hot juice jetted out of his dick all over my beard and chest; I opened my mouth to catch one gob of sweet cream directly, and licked more out of my moustache as his shots came less forcefully, making puddles on my chest.

He dismounted and slumped off to one side, face down. I immediately rolled over on top of him and started working my cock back up his butt. He grunted and tried to get away, but I pinned him down and started pounding. "Nobody mounts this dick and gets away without a load up his shithole," I growled into his ear.

After a minute or two, he started bucking back into me, which was all I needed to finish myself off. I rammed my cock home, then pulled back until just the head was inside him as my cum pumped into his butt, my cock moving just enough to stretch out the orgasm as much as possible.

I tucked my cock & balls back into my union suit and buttoned the bottom two buttons, then lay down. Josh promptly snuggled up to me with his face in my armpit, and we drifted off to sleep that way.

I awoke to the warm, wet sensation of Josh's tongue working its way up my butthole. I hunched myself up partly onto my knees to give him better access, which he took advantage of to get his tongue into me even deeper.

Suddenly, he removed his tongue and just as I was about to say something, it was replaced by his cock -- ALL of it! I bucked back into him to make sure I had it all, then growled "Fuck me right, buddy!"

He fucked me hard and fast; the wild cum he'd had earlier must have taken the edge off, or he was determined to keep fucking me after I'd come, because he outlasted me by about five full minutes of hard, full-dick fucking.

When he finally did let go, he let me have the first couple shots up my hole, then pulled out and splattered my ass and the back of my union suit. After he finished, I got up on my hands and knees, and smeared the handful of my own juice down his beard and into his chest.

He thanked me with a grin, lay back and said, "I wanna eat my load out of yer butt!" I was happy to oblige, and was soon kneeling astride his face with his long, hot tongue slurping away at my ass. I pulled his legs towards me and bent forward to return the favor; although a lot of my load had run out of his ass and matted his butt fur, there was still a fair bit up his hole to suck out... but even if there hadn't been, I would have enjoyed rooting my tongue up his tight manhole.

When we were satisfied we'd licked each other clean, we re-oriented ourselves, Josh snuggled up to me spoon fashion, and we drifted back to sleep.

The next morning was just about as domestic as you can get for two men in ripe union suits whose beards are crusty with each other's jizz. I made breakfast while Josh tidied the place up, and after breakfast we brushed and braided each other's hair.

As we dressed, Josh said "Well, um... I better get movin' on."

I gave him a lecherous grin; "Don't go getting embarrassed on me, Josh. You told me you had plenty of time for your trip. Besides, I just don't believe you've had enough of *this*." I groped my dick for emphasis.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You won't be; there's plenty of work here to do, and just think of all the fun we can start suckin' fresh sweat off of each other...."

The bulge in his jeans gave me my answer, which turned out to be another three days of nearly constant fucking when there wasn't something else to be done.

The look on that man's face when I pulled my foreskin over his dickhead was just absolutely priceless, and it only held for a second or two until he started filling my foreskin with his hot juice.

Nor will I forget that ride through the mountains I took him on my Harley -- with his dick up my ass the whole time, both of us cumming as I hit a set of bumps I knew very well just before we made it home.

Finally, though, he did leave -- walking a little funny, perhaps. But I know we'll get a re-match on his way back in a few months, if for no other reason than so he can find out if I was telling the truth about some of my neighbors here on the mountain.