Hypothetical Hitch-Hiker Ch. 01

"I can't believe we're going to sniff each other's skanky briefs!"

"And perhaps hugely enjoy it!" I added.

"Don't get your hopes up, dude!" he playfully warned me. "The only huge response you're likely to get from me is a huge pile of puke!"

I chuckled, straightening the car up in a space even though there was clearly no need to do so. "Well, even if that turns out to be true, it's good for lads your age to be sexually inquisitive. At least you'll know that stuff like this isn't for you."

He laughed again. "I think I can pretty much guarantee that already, but I'm up for going along with it. I mean, like you said, we'll probably never meet each other again..."

I nodded at his assertion but it occurred to me that, if he did enjoy what we were about to do, I might well offer him my phone number before dropping him off.

I opened my door and got out of the car. "Okay, Dane -- see if you can find that especially... er... fragrant pair you stashed away, and I'll get mine out of the boot."

He started rummaging in his rucksack again and I went to the back of the car to retrieve my own. They were a pair of white Calvin Klein hip-briefs and were at the top of my holdall in an old supermarket carrier bag along with my dirty socks and the shirt I'd worn for the meeting I'd been to. When I pulled them out I found that they were almost completely unsullied. There was a faint yellow patch of dried urine in the excessively stretched pouch at the front, but the rest of them were as clean as when they'd emerged as new from their wrapper.

I took a quick sniff of the back of them, the open lid of the boot preventing Dane from seeing me, and found them to be delicately but distinctly infused with my scent. There was a subtle bum whiff to them, mainly sweaty but with a characteristically male earthy undertone -- just musky enough to be erotic while lacking the powerful pungent punch I would ordinarily prefer.

I hoped they'd be stimulating enough for Dane: if he had an under-developed sense of smell, he'd glean very little from these largely sanitary briefs. I was tempted to quickly hitch my trousers down and give the crack of my arse a quick wipe with the back of them to get my scent more strongly onto the material, but I worried that might make their smell too intense for him to enjoy and that I would actually spoil things between us in my haste to try and arouse him.

I therefore closed the boot and returned to the front of the car.

"Okay," I said, brightly, retaking my seat. "Here's the ones I wore yesterday."

He smiled at me a little sheepishly. "Mine are... well..."

I banged my door closed. "What?"

He chuckled with obvious embarrassment. "Let's just say... I don't know if you're gonna want to smell them."

"I'm happy to give it a shot," I said, shrugging. "As long as you're comfortable about me doing so."

He nodded. "I'm okay with it. I mean, if I'm disgusted by yours, I won't be so embarrassed knowing what I've given you to sniff!"

"How do you figure that out?"

"I guess it'll make it more like the sort of stupid stuff I'd get up to with my mates. Doing stuff to disgust each other... seeing who gets grossed out first!"

I smiled. "Yeah, I suppose that makes sense."

He looked over at my underwear. "You like Calvins, do you? I've always found they're a bit baggy."

I held up my briefs, showing how hugely stretched and distended the pouch of the crotch was. "I like something with some room out front. As you saw, I need the material to have a lot of give at certain moments."

He chuckled. "Yeah... I guess you must fill yours out more than I do. I tend to go for brands that are a lot tighter."

So he wasn't as well-endowed as I am, the thought occurred to me. That wasn't in any way off-putting -- a man's cock size is largely irrelevant to me as my interests lie very firmly around the back -- but it was worth noting that the bulge at the front of his trousers I was hoping to see would not be as obvious as I might otherwise expect.

He said, "We'll have to do this together, then, won't we? So we can match our reactions, if that's still the plan."

"Sounds good to me," I agreed, reaching up to switch on the overhead light in the gathering dusk.

I passed him my briefs and he passed me his boxer trunks in return. I could immediately see how stained his were: I saw his cheeks redden a little when he saw me look down at them.

"You're gonna be totally groded out, aren't you?" he asked self-consciously.

I couldn't help but smile. My son often used the word 'grodey', especially with reference to my choice of clothing, but I'd never heard the term 'groded out'.

"I doubt it," I reassured him. "You saw my reaction to the first pair I sniffed. Judging by how much smellier this pair looks, I think I might well be about to burst my zipper."

He smiled back and looked slightly less uncomfortable. "I don't think my zipper's gonna be under any strain, Rob. This probably isn't going to be my sort of thing at all."

Suddenly an idea occurred to me. I seized it with gusto: usually such potentially useful notions only occur to me long after the moment has passed.

"If it's all the same with you, Dane," I began, trying to choose my words carefully but not wanting to give him a chance to move the conversation on. "Since you said you're not as... er... well-equipped as I am in the briefs department..."

He looked at my quizzically. I was going to have to be a little more direct.

"I mean, since you're far more able to hide your arousal than I am," I went on, "I think it would be fairer for us to... well..."

"What?" he asked.

"Hitch our trousers down," I suggested. "So that we can both see from our underwear how turned-on we really are."

"I dunno..." he started, his expression quickly becoming guarded.

"Well, it's all very well you claiming that you're going to be disgusted, but I'd like to see the evidence for myself."

"But pulling our trousers down together, mate... it's a bit... you know..."

"Only to the tops of our thighs," I sought to clarify. "Otherwise, I would be at a distinct disadvantage, wouldn't I? My reactions are pretty... well... explicitly displayed while yours are more discreetly hidden."

"My knob's not that small!" he countered with a certain amount of huffiness. "It does grow bigger when I'm in the right mood!"

"But you said your underwear was tighter than mine is. It'll keep things... you know... reined in. I think it has to be a fair comparison..."

He nodded and then threw me a reluctant smile. "All right, then, Rob... but only for a couple of minutes..."

The two of us sat up from our seats, loosened our belts and undid our buttons and flies, and then hitched our trousers down to the tops of our thighs.

We were both wearing white underwear, both crisply clean on the outward-facing surface, but that was where the similarity between us ended. Mine were Calvin Klein hip-briefs but his were, like the two dirty pairs I'd seen, longer in the leg. The pouch of mine was abundantly packed with the fattened mound of my softened but still sizable cock and with my huge bollocks poking upwards like a pair of plums. His, on the other hand, was far less extravagantly proportioned, the rod of his organ looking thick but insubstantial alongside the barely visible bulges of his shriveled balls. My legs were quite thickly hairy and the bush of my pubic hair spilled out from the legs of my briefs. His legs, only just visible beneath the hemline of his shorts, were all but hairless and if he did have a bushy pubic bush like mine, the fuller style of his underwear was able to conceal it.

I smiled and said, "That seems a bit fairer."

He chuckled and shrugged. "I can't believe I'm letting you talk me into doing this stuff. I've never done anything even remotely like this before."

I thought I ought to pick him up on that. "I'm not trying to lead you astray, Dane, nor to talk you into doing anything you're not comfortable with. If you want to call it day here and now, just say and we'll get back on the road."

He looked up at my face and his smile slowly faded. I thought for a second that he was going to call my bluff and start hitching his trousers back up.

But in the end he didn't.

He just shrugged and said, allowing his smile to return, "In for a penny, in for a pound... let's get on with it!"

I grinned back at him, pleased I'd made the point to him that it was his choice to continue and that he mustn't feel pressured.

I really didn't want to come away from this troubled by the guilt that I'd taken advantage of a young hitch-hiker who'd been standing out in the cold. Whatever further happened between us, I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror tomorrow and know that this young lad had gone into it just as willingly as I had.

"Okay," he said, turning my underpants over in his hands and figuring out which way round was front and back. "How should we do this? Should we start at the front or get straight to the back?"

"I think we should start with the front," I proposed. He might find he liked that more.

"The scenic route," he reminded me with a grin.

"Exactly," I agreed.

***

To be concluded.

***