I've seen my best friend of twenty years surprised before, but this day was exceptional. That afternoon, finishing my courier deliveries, I spotted a hitchhiker desperate to escape an approaching storm. He had no money, and though I insisted he didn't need to, he offered another form of payment for the lift-- a 60 mph blowjob before we got to our mutual destination. Who was I to argue? He was chiseled yet slight, smooth, with dark, innocent-my-ass eyes. He went down on me, swallowed every drop when I came, with me trying to come and keep go at the same time...but the van stayed between the lines.

"Damn it, man, you really let him do that?" my friend asked, intensely listening. He was married with kids, and I was ambiguous about my activities outside our usual beer and barbecues. His wife was nice enough, and ran a good home, but had lost interest in keeping him pleased years ago, and I knew it.

"Hey, I didn't make him, and how many times does an offer come up like that?" I asked, enjoying his interest in his disbelieving smile, his fleeting rub across the crotch of his shorts, and his fumbling, busy legs and feet like a kid in church while we sat in the plastic patio chairs.

"Around here, never," he said.

I just didn't get it. He was short, stocky, thick, tanned, muscles rippled when called upon, and thick eyebrows hooded intense eyes. His goatee was that beautiful mix of salt and pepper. If left to me, he'd be drained every night.

We finished our beers, rose, stretched, and I headed to the van to get it back home. I didn't want a company van running around after hours in a small town.

"Gotta git…thanks for the beers, buddy. I guess I'll catch up with ya later."

I turned to find him unusually close, leaning in with a hushed voice, looking down the street where his wife was at a neighbor's baby shower. Her mother was watching the kids.

"Man, I forgot what good head felt like. Did he swallow you too?"

"Sure did…see? I motioned at my clean khakis. Not a drop spilled.

My friend was excited again, but nowhere like I was with his next question…

"Can I ask a really big favor of you?"

"Sure." I feigned indifference. "Bet I know."

He grinned like a kid again, that Dennis Quaid kind of grin, with a wicked flash in his eyes , and leaned in a little more.

"Come inside."

I glanced down before he turned to lead me into the house, admiring his package visible even in those loose gym shorts he always wore.

"God, I need this," he said, a mixture of excitement and growing determination to get what he wanted.

We were in the house for a minute when I found myself pinned to the hallway wall, his mouth clamped tightly over mine, the hot smell of beer on his breathe as his tongue rammed into mine. He wasn't playing, and I was ready to handle him. His tongue traced a trail down my neck back to my ear, sending a shiver.

"Dammit, I'm getting hot," I whispered.

His mouth found mine again, pulling the air out of me, me inhaling him back in, as he moved in closer. He took my hand downward and put it against his cock, straining the cotton cloth, then ground it against me. Could have died a happy man right then and there, but the best was yet to…come.

Part 2... press here