Loading...I had been working temporarily in the DC area near the Pentagon for a few weeks. While there is an excellent mass transit system in the city, the apartment I was living in was far enough away from the Metro stations that it would take almost as much time commuting to the nearest station as it took me to go ahead and drive into work.
I guess if I knew anyone living near me I might carpool, but with the odd hours I worked it was difficult, if not impossible, to work out a schedule with anyone. Besides, with such odd hours I’d not had a chance to really meet anyone who lived near me.
While at work I shared a multitude of traffic horror stories with almost everyone I ran into. Now with the gas prices going up and up, the stories seemed to lean away from the humorous, idiot driver stories to odd and interesting attempts as saving gas. We would discuss and often argue over the merits of gas saving techniques.
“Yeah, I come in the Washington Memorial and then coast down the hills,” one of the guys would say.
“But then you have to turn around and climb hills too, and going uphill your burning more gas, probably more than what you save coasting,” another would reply.
“Not if I kick the engine on a just the right time to preserve momentum.”
“Momentum shmomentum, you’re still burning more gas going back uphill than you would if you just took a more level roadway like Sixty Six. The idea is to pace yourself so you don’t hit the brakes.”
“How do you do that in traffic?”
The discussions often carried on until lunch, with statements shouted back and forth over work cubicles or picked up during restroom or smoking breaks. I happened to be headed to lunch one day, passing a couple of smokers standing just outside the building.
“I take the High Occupancy Vehicle lanes every day and avoid all the headaches,” a guy in a red shirt said between puffs on his cigarette.
“I’d like to do that, but I don’t know anyone I can carpool with,” the other smoker replied.
“Man, you don’t need a carpool, all you have to do is slide by lot seven and pick up a slug.”
“A slug?”
“You know, the people who hang out at the lot looking for a ride. They give you that extra body in the car in exchange for a ride out into the suburbs. That way you can drive in the carpool lanes. You end up dropping them near a bus stop or parking lot outside the city and they go from there.”
My eyes began burning from the smoke so I headed off to lunch, but not without making a note to myself to look into these slugs. It seemed to have some of the same drawbacks I had always avoided hitchhikers over, but then again, most of these people would be either working at or around the Pentagon.
I decided to give Lot Seven a try that afternoon. I figured the reason they were called slugs was that they didn’t try to share the gas costs, but still, you had to save some money just driving in the carpool lane. If not money, you’d certainly save time.
That afternoon I found myself driving over to Lot Seven looking for a slug to share the ride home with. Quickly realizing there was a bit of a pattern there, with the drivers displaying small signs on their dashboards indicating their final destination driving only to specific groups of people. Utterly confused with the entire set up, I moved over to an area where a number of people were huddled in an area that very few cars visited.
Pulling up to the curb, I opened my window and said, “I’m heading north up the Washington Memorial then over toward Bethesda.”
“Jack, Jack, that’s you,” one of the guys shouted out to another small group of men standing near one of the bus stops.
Jack jogged over from another small group huddled near a bus stop and moved to the car window. He peeked in and said, “Wow, saved at the last minute. I was ready to give up and take the bus.”
He was obviously summing me and my car up, as he fumbled with a briefcase, but apparently I made the grade because he grabbed the door and climbed inside. He was a fairly small man, perhaps 5’5″ or 5’6″ with a very slender build. Neatly trimmed black hair framed a thin face with a prominent nose. The hint of facial hair seemed to soften his appearance, making him perhaps more pretty than rugged.
“If you go near Old Georgetown Road, just off 495, that’d be great. There are plenty of places between here and there,” he said.
I nodded, wondering what he meant by plenty of places between here and there. Easing my car down the drive, I carefully pulled onto the Jeff Davis Highway, quickly working my way to the right so I could catch the Memorial. Once there we could hit take advantage of some of the carpool lanes.
A few minutes into the drive, Jack reached his hand out to me and said, “You know, we really haven’t properly met, I’m Jack, Jack Anderson, right now working on the Inner Corridor.”
Knowing that, for security reasons, the Inner Corridor was all I needed to know at this time, I took his hand and said, “I’m Jason Tulbridge, I’m with the contractor working the security upgrades.”
“Oh interesting,” he said, knowing not to ask anything else about it, again for security reasons.
“Yeah, even though it’s not really classified, we’re not supposed to talk much about it,” I said.
“You know between security upgrades and beautification, must be half the city is under construction.”
“And I think the other half is at least in some stage of design for construction,” I answered, basically making small talk.
We drove a bit further in silence, while both of us took in the scenery as we sped down the carpool lane. It was a relaxing drive, to be able to pretty much maintain the speed limit instead of the start, stop, slow down and go chaos of the main traffic lanes. I figured I’d certainly be trying this trick again.
Looking closer at Jack, I noticed his dark, almost black eyes. They offer an odd contrast, the eyes so dark and intense and the rest of him a bit softer. I thought to myself, “I bet the women line up for this guy.”
“There’s a rest area not too far ahead with a few secluded places, want to stop there?” Jack asked.
Figuring he needed to use the facilities there, I answered, “Sure,” taking the exit and driving into the parking area. The main building was nestled among some trees and the parking areas spread out around it, arranged in a number of small clusters. I noticed a few of the clusters close to the building had only a single car parked there and I began to head to the cluster closest to the building.
“Here, park over here,” he said, pointing to a couple of spaces some distance away from the building and toilet area. There were no other cars in the cluster, which was surrounded by trees.
A bit confused, I pulled into one of the spaces, and leaned my seat back figuring he’d get out and head up to the toilet area. Instead, when I felt his hang gently brush my thigh I looked over at him and said, “You’re not going…”
When his hand froze, we both immediately realized we’d made a mistake. “You didn’t know about the line at the lot?”
“No, this is my first time picking up a carpooler.”
“So they didn’t tell you about the line?”
Despite the awkward situation, I realized my cock had hardened. “What about the line?” I asked, trying hard to ease the edge off my voice. “I mean I guess I misunderstood, but…” I stammered a bit, “I think…”
“Have you done this before?”
“The carpool thing? I just said it was my first…”
“I meant with another guy,” he said.
“Well, at some arcade, I let some guy jack me off,” I said.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you like it?” he asked, moving a bit closer to me in his seat.
“It was different, I meant it was good, he knew what to do, but I guess most guys would know the right things to do to jack some other guy off. Certainly different than what a woman does.”
“So would you say you’re bi?”
“Well, curious at least,” I said.
Glancing down at the tent my cock had formed in my pants he said, “Yes, it does look like you’re curious. Do you think we could?”
Looking around the outside of the car, confirming we were well concealed from anyone in the area, I nodded, reaching up and taking off my tie. I looked down to his lap and saw a definite bulge.
Jack reached over and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and reached inside, letting his fingers slide over my nipples. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Leaning close to my ear he whispered, “You like this?”
“Oh yeah,” I answered, reaching my hand over to his lap and gently pressing against the mound in his pants. Wrapping my hands around him, I gently stroked him through his pants. This was the first I had ever touched another guys hard cock. Through his pants I could feel that, though it seemed thin, it was fairly long. I wanted to see it.
“Tell you what I want to do and see if it’s not better than a hand job in some movie arcade, okay?”
“Yes,” was all I could say.
“While you’re all hot and bothered, you’re gonna suck my cock, and then I’ll suck yours, you okay with that.”
“Yeah,” I answered, groping at his belt.
He pulled back from me and began undoing his pants and working his cock out. He nodded over to me and I did the same. Still whispering he asked, “So you’ve never sucked a cock before?”
“No,” I answered, looking closely at his erection. He was circumcised, like me, so I didn’t need to figure out the foreskin bit. The shaft was thin, as I had felt through his pants, with a single large vein bulging at the top.
“Have you ever had your cock sucked?” he asked.
“Not by a man.”
“By a woman?”
“Yeah.”
“A lot?”
“Enough.”
“Okay, now here’s the secret. Just remember what they did, okay.”
I nodded.
“Now, remember what they didn’t do, what they didn’t do hard enough, what they didn’t fast or slow enough, what they wouldn’t even think of doing.”
Smiling, I said, “Okay.”
Smiling back at me, “That’s the secret, and when I do you, you’ll wonder why you ever asked a woman to do that in the first place.”
Looking into his dark eyes, I was impressed how serious he was telling me this. “Not very modest,” I said, still smiling.
“Hey, think about it, who would know their way around a guy’s body better than a guy.”
“I guess,” I said, moving closer to his cock. The musky smell of it reminded me of the some of my extended masturbation sessions, and felt an odd tingling in my stomach. I took a hold of it in my right hand, feeling the length and girth of it. I guessed he was a bit longer than me, but not as big around, and as I stroked it some, the flood of pre-cum surprised me.
Tasting the salty fluid with the tip of my tongue, I felt the tingling in my stomach again and dove upon him, sliding my mouth over him as far as I could. Remembering his advice, I immediately began sucking as hard as I could while moving my hand up and down in a circling motion. Slipping my other hand to his balls I squeezed them, harder than any woman dared with me before, but not hard enough to discomfort him.
With my tongue curling over and around the purple head of his cock, I began kneading his balls while working my other hand up and down. I felt his fingers run through my hair, squeezing in unison with my hand on his balls. Figuring I was doing a pretty good job, I simply continued doing things, different, harder, softer, and more often than had ever been done to me.
Trying to take him deep into my mouth, I had to fight off my immediate urge to gag, but kept working my tongue and tried to maintain as much suction on him as I could. Remembering some of the bi-porn I had seen, I imagined what it might look like, my mouth moving up and down on his prick, one hand on his balls, on at the base of his shaft.
Continuing my kneading of his balls and the up and down stroking with my other hand, I began moving my head up and down while turning it from side to side. Almost immediately he began moaning and mumbled something like, “Don’t… stop… don’t….” I began to move faster, and though my cheeks were tiring, I continued sucking at a furious pace, wanting him to come, wanting to taste him.
In a few moments I could feel his hips raise as he pushed his cock harder into my mouth, and as his hand began pulling my hair. He moaned loudly and then he arched his back, lifting his ass off the car seat. Inside my mouth, I could feel his cock suddenly thicken and then I felt the hot cum flood my mouth.
Wanting to keep him in my mouth during his entire orgasm I swallowed a bit, trying not to gag, but then felt him pull my head upward. I let his cock slip out of my mouth and let him pull my head up to him for a kiss. His tongue forced its way into my mouth and he sucked hard, slurping much of his cum back out of my mouth. We kissed, sharing his salty taste.
He then pulled back, letting me watch him swirl the liquid in his mouth and then he swallowed. Mimicking him, I swirled his come around my mouth and then swallowed.
“Snowball,” he whispered.
“Snowball?” I asked.
“Yeah, I come in your mouth, but you give some back to me and we share the taste. Snowball.”
“I’m learning a lot today.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said, moving his head down into my lap.
He was right, just the sight of his head bobbing up and down on my lap was exciting, but what was even more intense were the sensations rolling over my cock and balls. Remembering the mixed feeling of excitement and frustration as my girlfriend performed oral sex, the combination of exquisite and annoying feeling as she did what she thought might work, I was simply amazed that with Jack, it was completely exquisite.
Whenever I wanted my balls squeezed I felt him squeeze them, when I wanted him to suck hard, he sucked, when I wanted him to squeeze my shaft, suddenly he did it. It was a couple of minutes of absolute, pure ecstasy as I felt sensations I never knew I could feel. When I came, he continued the suction to just before my cock got hypersensitive, and then he stopped, at the perfect time.
He sat up and leaned to kiss me, letting me slurp a bit of my own cum into my mouth. I swirled it in my mouth and then swallowed, noting the different yet similar taste.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “It’s how different we taste.”
“Different, yet the same, a kind of salty, pungent cream of wheat type taste.”
“Well, what do you think of the carpool driving now?” he asked me.
“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” I asked in reply.
“I think I’m gonna be watching for your car,” he said, slipping his cock back into his pants. It had softened some, but remained fairly long. Funny thing, the first I noticed his soft and curly pubic hair was as it disappeared into his pants.
“You want me to pick you up at Lot Seven?” I asked, fastening my pants.
“Where do you normally park?”
“Over on four,” I answered as I started up the car.
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the walkway over to Lot Four.”
“Same time?”
“Same time,” he answered.
We continued onto the highway, both taking in the last of the sunset. After a few minutes I came to his exit and pulled off.
“Over there, at that parking lot,” he said, pointing to the right. “Yeah, the beat up Honda there.”
“I see why you don’t drive in.”
“Yeah, it gets me around here, but not on the freeways.”
He grabbed his bag and opened the door. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
“I should thank you,” I said, reaching out and grasping his hand.
Leaning his head back in the car, he said, “Yeah, it’s not too bad for a slug.”
“No, not too bad for a slug,” I replied, smiling. I watched him walk to his car, noticing how his ass muscles tensed and relaxed as he walked.