Hitching a Ride to Murder

Hitching a ride is a lost art these days. Almost nobody tries, mainly because almost nobody will take a chance on picking up a hitchhiker any more. Too many lurid stories about what can happen to the unsuspecting motorist. Or the unsuspecting hitcher. I certainly had no idea of what the consequences were going to be when I decided to try thumbing a ride back from Des Moines to California.

I was thirty-five at the time, and had been working some construction jobs in the Midwest. It was Fall now, about time for the snow to start to fall and the construction season to grind to a halt, so I was ready to head home to California. My pickup was pretty much on its last legs, so I decided to sell it and take alternative transportation home. The hitchhiking idea was pretty much a lark. I had plenty of money from the jobs I’d been doing, so if I didn’t get a ride I could pay for a plane, or bus, or whatever.

I didn’t know exactly what to expect when I planted myself on the on-ramp to Interstate 80 that September day. I’m 6’2″, about 200 pounds, and look like what I am, a manual laborer who can take care of himself. I wasn’t sure if that would be reassuring to drivers who might see me or not. About the last thing I expected was to see a Mercedes pull over. Not just any Mercedes, either, but a shiny new one that I knew set the owner back at least a hundred grand. I walked over, opened the door, and looked inside.

“Where are you headed?” It was a woman behind the wheel, black hair just short of shoulder-length, olive complexion, absolutely gorgeous, at least at first glance.

“California.”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Where abouts? It’s a big state, you know.”

I chuckled. “It is. Modesto is home, but I’ll settle for any place close.”

“Hop in. I’m headed for Marin County. I can at least get you all the way out 80 to Sacramento. I’m Maria, by the way.”

“Nick. And thanks for the ride. I wasn’t sure if anybody’d stop.”

“I like to live dangerously.” She said that with a grin that was almost a smirk. I probably should have paid more attention to that.

I got a better look at her as she drove. Late twenties, maybe thirty. Long straight nose, sensuous mouth with full lips. Dark eyes to match the dark hair, so dark they were almost black instead of brown. Her eyes and complexion hinted at a background that wasn’t entirely Anglo, Chicano maybe, or even something like Iranian, I couldn’t be sure. I was definitely right about the gorgeous part. And every bit as elegant and expensive as the car she was driving. She was wearing a black dress, scooped low in the front, mid-thigh as she sat in the car. It showed off just enough to let me know that her body was every bit as hot as her face. I was afraid this could get uncomfortable if I had to look at that all the way to California.

“So, I thought I’d make it a three-day run. Stop in Cheyenne and Salt Lake City. That sound okay to you?” She had the kind of low, smoky, Peggy Lee/Lauren Bacall voice that I can’t resist. She also seemed to be completely relaxed, even though she was sharing the car with somebody who might have been an ax murderer for all she knew.

“Fine by me. Besides, it’s your car, I’m not in any position to complain.” She grinned and chuckled a little at that.

“You’re right, but I always try to be polite.”

Maria fired up a CD. Frank Sinatra, which surprised me a little from someone her age. But she did seem like the type who would like the classics, in just about any field. We spent the next couple of hours talking lightly about ourselves. I told her about the wonders of traveling the country in search of construction work. She was a magazine editor, did a little writing on the side. I figured that must be some magazine if she could afford a car like this on the salary. I must have looked a little skeptical.

“My parents made a fortune in real estate in California, and then invested it all in the stock market. I was the only child. I really don’t have to work if I don’t want to, but I’d go nuts if I just sat around all day.”

“So, what kind of writing do you do?” She didn’t seem nervous at all about telling me where her money came from, but it made me a little uncomfortable, so I decided to change the subject.

“Oh, just some romance fiction. You know, girlie stuff.” It was the first time she’d seem hesitant to talk about anything. I figured she was embarrassed about her writing – either thought it wasn’t good enough, or that the kind of writing she did wasn’t serious enough. I let it drop, and we went on to another subject.

We pulled into a rest stop after a couple of hours to stretch and get something to drink. That gave me the first chance to see Maria out of the car. She looked just as good on her feet as she did sitting behind the wheel. About 5’8″, long, slim legs. In fact, slim was a good description of her body in general. Definitely a woman, with curves where they should be, but with the long Super-Model look. I was likely to be a real mess by the time I got home.

Around Noon we stopped again, to grab something to eat. When we headed back to the car after lunch, Maria said, “You want to drive for a while? I get kind of stiff sitting there that long.”

“Sure, if you want to trust me with that beast. Remember, I’m used to a beat-up old pickup.”

“Oh, I think you can handle it.” She gave me a wicked grin that made my think she was talking about more than the car. Yeah, right, man, more money than God and she goes around picking up construction workers for fun. Sure.

Not long after we started back up Maria reclined the back of her seat and fell asleep. Guess she really was worn out from the driving. I made good time while she was sleeping; the Mercedes liked cruising at eighty or ninety miles an hour, and in that part of the country there’s not much traffic to worry about. Every so often I’d look over at Maria, in that slinky black dress, and then have to think about something disgusting for a while to calm my dick down. I didn’t want her waking up and seeing me with a raging hard-on. Not to mention the fact that driving that way isn’t exactly comfortable.

We were almost to Cheyenne by the time Maria woke up. She stretched before she put her seat back up, and I had to worry about the condition of my dick again. She put on another CD, I think this one was Tony Bennett, and we didn’t say much until we got close enough to Cheyenne to start looking for some place to stay for the night.

“Should we save some money and just get one room?”

“Sure.” I glanced over at her and she was wearing a Cheshire Cat grin. Well, I hadn’t been hallucinating when I thought she was giving me hints. I was pretty sure she wasn’t really worried about how much she spent on a hotel room.

We found a place that looked fairly high-class – Cheyenne’s not exactly fancy-hotel heaven – got checked in and headed for the room. Like I said, Maria had dropped a couple of hints in the car, so I wasn’t completely surprised that something would happen. But no way was I prepared for this.

I’d barely gotten my backpack tossed on a chair when Maria was on her knees in front of me. She hit my cock like a wild animal devouring its prey. Her mouth was on me almost before she’d managed to get my dick out of my pants. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a blowjob like that. Her lips and tongue were devouring the head of my cock, while her fingers stroked the shaft. Her other hand was on my balls, squeezing them, rolling them around each other, pulling them. It was just short of being painful and absolutely incredible. She took about half my dick into her mouth and started to really suck. I watched her cheeks hollow as she made me feel like my balls were going to shoot through my cock.

Then, just as I was sure I couldn’t last much longer, she released my dick, popped up to her feet, and swept her dress off, over her head in one motion. She had on absolutely nothing underneath. I took in her breasts, nice C-cup standing out firm by themselves, and her pussy, shaved clean. She was breathing heavily and had an expression on her face that almost defied description. Partly the wild animal she’d seemed before, and partly, well, somebody who was a little bit unhinged.

“Eat me!” It was a command as much as anything, and was followed by her dropping onto her back on the bed. Well, who was I to disobey? I dove into her pussy face-first, spreading her lips with my fingers, lashing her with my tongue. She smelled and tasted every bit as good as she looked. I slipped my tongue inside her, pulled back and licked up and down her slit several times. She was whimpering, her body was beginning to jerk. On one stroke, my tongue flicked up against her clit and she gasped, grabbed my head and forced my face tighter against her. I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked it into my mouth.

“Oh fuck yes!” Her body went rigid, then her back arched up off the bed. “Huhn, huhn, huhn!” She shook, stiffened again, then slumped back on the bed. I stood up, looked down at her on the bed, smiling up at me, and made record time in getting my clothes off. I stepped over, guided the head of my cock to her pussy, and drove in; reached up and began playing with her tits as I fucked her. I had big plans about making her cum again before filling her up with mine, but that was a lost cause.