Hitchhiker Ch 01

2021 Nellskitchen. All rights reserved. The essayist asserts her right to be identified as the author of 'Hitchhiker/Chapter 1: The Gift.' This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author (except for brief quotations in a review). If you see this story on any website other than Literotica.com, it is pirated without the author's permission. All characters appearing in 'Hitchhiker 1' are over the age of eighteen.

Hitchhiker 1 -- The Gift

Part 1

She was unlike what I remembered. It had been three years, and I told myself I too was unlike what I remembered. Back then, we were like children, little girls playfully gliding through the fun of our freshman year at college. Innocents, we took on the world, imbibing its dangers, scoffing at its risks.

With her inexplicable disappearance, the fun stopped, leaving questions that never went away. Now, unexpectedly, she has returned—the time has come to revisit the questions, to solve the mystery of her vanishing.

For reasons I cannot articulate, I find myself at the window, needing to catch a glimpse of her before she sees me. From our second-floor bedroom, I have a commanding view of the driveway, and I watch as the little Honda rolls to a stop. I should run to her, but something holds me back. Instead, peeking through a gap in the sheers, I observe as she steps from her car and wonder, is her visit the beginning of the end of the riddle that has gnawed at me all this time? I regard her body language, checking for demeanor. I wonder if she will exhibit the wide-eyed cheerfulness I remember from back then. One cold April day, we parted. It was the start of calls defaulting to voicemail, of awakening in the night to frightening imaginings. What happened to her?

One week ago, a vibrating text jarred my memories: 'Jan, I need to see you. Please don't turn me away—Jayden.' It is all she wrote. With the shortest of messages, I replied, 'Come to me!'

Part 2

Impatience got the better of me. I drew the curtain aside and stepped close to the glass. Demonstrating the instincts of old, Jayden looked up; her eyes seized mine. We both waved—she, cautiously. We both smiled—she, a little.

"She's more beautiful than I imagined," my husband, standing behind me, said. Between sips of coffee, his words were soft, and without breaking my gaze, I nodded. With an hourglass shape and breasts to taunt the ages, yes, Jayden was beautiful.

"She is different," I whispered.

"How so, Jan?" Marty asked.

"It's something in the way she moves, too carefully, too deliberately. The Jayden I knew was brash; she took little heed of her surroundings."

This Jayden felt her way as if unsure her feet touched the ground. Even her smile, effervescent in past times, appeared tentative. She glanced up at me again but barely acknowledged my presence; instead, she looked away as if fearing I might see too much from on high.

She was slender as before, but she was rounder too; her body, like mine, more womanly, her full breasts evoking a trace of envy. In addition, her expression was subdued, uneasy. Gone were the long strawberry locks of college days, replaced now with a short honey-blonde bob.

"Maybe it's the hair," I persuaded myself to say. "A new cut changes things." Marty neglected to acknowledge the comment, meaning he did not accept it.

"Guess she's grown up, hon," he diplomatically speculated. Drawing aside my hair, he planted a delicate kiss on the back of my neck. "Innocence leaves us a piece at a time," he warmly posited. "Maybe she's come to tell you what happened to hers."

Part 3

Jayden and I had met amidst the chaos of opening day at Nazareth College. Fortunately, some administrative official matched us as roommates. Our bond was instant, our friendship total. As only two ditzy freshmen could, we blindly trusted and relied on each other. Early on, we drank too much, studied too little, shoplifted evening gowns from Isabella's Boutique, recklessly selected sex partners, and declared merciless war on the campus bookstore. Thinking back on it, I smiled in the certainty that, to this day, the college must still have an open investigation into our unrelenting mischief.

Jayden taught me sex—real sex. I was intrigued by what she knew, by how far she had gone back in high school. We shared the gory details of past partners, relived prurient moments during intimate talks lasting into the wee hours of Rochester's inky black winter nights. Jayden was an only child, a classic free spirit who, after her parents divorced, lacked the strict supervision around which I had to find ways. Freedom, we eventually learned, was a double-edged sword, however. It was something with which we would have to deal.

Marty knew some things. For instance, I had told him about the blowjob, how one day, I skipped class, stopped back at our dorm room unexpectedly, and walked in on Jayden and the Syracuse lacrosse player. Still tucked partially into her jeans, her white blouse hung loosely about her waist. Her bra strap clung to her elbow, evidence that in the heat of the moment, there had been no time to shed it fully.

I found my roommate on her knees while he, muscular and statuesque, stood tall, his cock lodged in her throat, his scrotum resting against her chin. As luck would have it, I opened our door just as the athlete, his face a study in contortion, ejaculated, grunting his way to victory. My screech broke his stride and the moment's erotic spell.

Jayden had her back to me and craned her neck to take in my astonishment. Half-smiling, she not only made light of the sudden intrusion, she sucked until he finished. Upon seeing me, the startled boy struggled to wrench his cock free, but he was awkward, had only half-finished, and as he did, his ejaculate spilled over Jayden's chin.

When I told Marty about it, he laughed and remarked, "I hope you said, 'Excuse me!'"

"I blushed," I admitted, "and backed from the room, hoping everyone could pretend none of what happened, happened!"

Marty, typically male, wanted to know more. "Ryan," I revealed, "struggled to pull up his jeans, which presented still another problem since his considerable hard-on outlived his orgasm. He turned his back to me in search of privacy and fought to zipper his pants over an unruly erection—which proved futile. "I had seen everything. It was a classic messy moment, and all I could think to say was, 'I'm so sorry, guys, I, uh...skipped class, and well...I'll just...I guess I'll just go to class after all...um—I guess.'"

"How did Jayden react," Marty asked.

"Tilting her head to one side and wiping the yucky semen from her chin with her bra, Jayden, using her intimidating finger to direct me, said, "January McNamara, you come here this instant!" For the second time in sixty seconds, I stiffened, but Jayden, never missing a beat, freed herself from her bra, tossed it to the floor, and pulled her blouse to her shoulders, all while hurriedly introducing us. "January, this is Ryan Fremont; Ryan, my roommate, January; isn't she gorgeous?"

"Gorgeous, for sure," Ryan awkwardly agreed. With a forced smile, he glanced at me over his shoulder.

"Hi Ryan," I stumbled.

Still wrestling with his jeans, he managed a modest "Hi."

"I need to go; I'll see you later, Jayden. Nice...um...meeting you, Ryan."

That afternoon, as we strolled to dinner, I blushingly apologized: "Sorry about before...back at the room, I..."

"...January, please!" she replied, "don't apologize! It was what it was, OK? I mean, it was just a blowjob. Besides, I've tried to get him alone with me for months, since October. Remember how we watched his team play Cornell, how I spotted those terrific buns from high up in the bleachers?"

"Yes, I remember; it's just that I've never seen anybody do that before—not in real life."

"Well," she said dreamily. "Your timing was perfect! He came just as you walked into our room! I thought, my God! Will he ever stop? And Jan, he is sooooo cute! He about died when he saw you!" Winking for good measure, she added, 'we weren't actually doing it; since Monica did Bill, blowjobs aren't classified as sex anymore."

"I wanted to join in—not that you needed help!" I admitted. "Had he not already come, I would have! But he was...um...finished by the time my brain engaged enough to think of, well, of assisting a girlfriend in her time of need."

Jayden offered me her best lazy eye and said, "I wish you had, January; I would have offered his sperm as a gift to you."

That was where we left it. I regretted the missed opportunity for a threesome. The dorm incident was symptomatic of Jayden's comfortable sexuality. She was the kind of girl who, if she wanted a fuck-buddy, she took him, thinking little of time or place. However, she was choosy, and no one made her do anything; she was independent, strong-willed; I admired her.

A person cannot un-see such a thing, however, and the image of my kneeling friend burned itself into memory. Admittedly, the sight of her long hair spilling down her back, and the underside of her ample breast peeking from beneath her arm as she worked Ryan's erection, excited me and the feeling lingered.

With one word from her on that long-ago day, I would have dropped to the floor, not so much to help with the blowjob, but to be with her when her boyfriend of the 'moment,' came. I wanted to share everything with Jayden. It included the alien ejaculate of the long-forgotten Syracuse Orangeman.

I had had fleeting thoughts about sex with other women, but the scene into which I stumbled ignited a fire. Afterward, it was all I could do to suppress the urge to reveal my feelings, an impulse that never went away. I kept silent, however, thinking that if the right time ever presented itself, I might unveil my secret longing. If Jayden felt anything for me, she did not say, and through what was to become a rapidly fading time before she vanished, we never spoke of the incident again.

Part 4

Jayden returned to college after the Christmas holiday. She was all bubbles and perks. She had met and fallen for Danny, a handsome and retiring pre-med student at Widener College in Pennsylvania. With his appearance, everything changed. He was all she wanted, and, on weekends, she regularly rushed from campus, thumbing rides to spend time with him.

"I'm hitchhiking to see my honey, Jan," she flippantly said one bright spring day.

For obvious reasons, the thought of her alone on the highway concerned me. Without thinking, I spoke out. "Don't!" I warned. The word's abruptness startled her—and me. I knew she would go anyway, and though I was afraid for her, I was no more afraid than I had been at other times. However, her world of romance and her longing to be with Danny were all that mattered.

Jayden paused to look at me. "Stop worrying, January," she snapped, shaking her head. "There's zero danger. It's not 1950, after all—men are kinder now. Besides, it's easy for girls to get rides, especially if they're alone." Other than offering my signature dark look, I opted for quiet.

"January?" She asked, pausing innocently. "What's the matter?"

"I don't like it," I answered. It's too far and...and besides, I worry every minute you're gone!"

Affectionately, she ceased packing her bag and caressed my cheek. "I love you, girlfriend," she said. "But you're a worrywart on steroids! I know what I'm doing." It was a 'back-off' moment, so I backed off.

"Just be careful," I cautioned. "OK? Please?"

By then, only half paying attention, she replied, "OK." I knew her; she was reckless; she would not be careful.

Part 5

She was gone when I awakened. Two days later, on Sunday, the usual time for her return, she did not show. I tried her phone, but the call went to voicemail—I hated the reception in Pennsylvania and did not have Danny's number. She did not call back, and as the day waned, I grew nervous. Where was she?

Upon awakening Monday morning, I immediately shot a look to Jayden's bed. I was late getting up; it was nearly time for class. Her bed had not been slept in. I called her cell again—voicemail. I asked around. No one had heard from her. Even her mom did not answer my calls. Weeks passed; her mother, unannounced and on the verge of tears, appeared at our dorm carrying empty boxes. We helped her pack Jayden's things. "She's not coming back," is all her mom would say.

A deafening silence fell over our little world. Time passed. I graduated, I married; an eternity later, Jayden's mysterious text appeared. The time of shadows was ending.

Part 6

Jayden helped me with dinner. Later, arm in arm, we strolled the quiet neighborhood. When she spoke, she said little, and through a long silence during the final few steps before returning to my house, I gambled and broke the ice. "Talk to me, Jayden. What happened to you on the way to Harrisburg? Tell me why you disappeared from our happy college world?"

She stopped, defensively crossed her arms, and looked away. "Soon, Jan; I'm tired now." I did not press her.

Part 7

Candlelight filled our tiny bedroom. Marty says candlelight is sexy, that my skin shimmers in the flickering light. Gauzy silk drapery separates our bed from a makeshift guest room, an improvisation for visitors staying the night.

Marty loves the 'Doors' and 'Riders on the Storm,' played quietly into the late hour. Rolling over, I kissed him. "Let's invite her," I said. He drew back in surprise and searched my face. For a moment, he said nothing and then whispered a guarded caution. "You sure about this, Jan?"

"I am," I replied, "she needs us tonight, honey. I love her, and she is so alone with whatever haunts her from our college days. She is hiding some terror and is falling to pieces; her secret is crushing her spirit."

Marty was not the kind of man who made important decisions in haste, and inviting another woman into our bed fell into the 'important decision' category. I ran my hand over his bare stomach and grasped his balls. His eyes sealed against the limited light. I raked my nails over his half-erect penis, noting, "I think this big guy's already made his decision."

"Seems he has," he answered in mock innocence. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his hesitation playing second violin to a revealing grin. I turned to the gauzy curtain, behind which Jayden had just rested her head on the pillow. Whispering, I said, "Jayden, come to us."

Silent moments followed; then, her bed creaked, a nervous movement I remembered from dormitory days. I recalled how Jayden shifted her weight the same way whenever she reflected on essential things. I felt her tenseness. She whispered, "I so want to Jan, I do, but..."

Her words carried a trace of acceptance, so I pressed her. "We want you—come in here." She thought more. The bed creaked a second time, and her feet touched the floor. Light footsteps followed. A tiny hand moved the curtain aside. She took another step but wavered at the edge of our bed, saying only, "January, this is insane."

I repositioned my bottom and backing against Marty's erection made room under the blanket for our guest. Raising himself onto his elbow, he extended a hand in welcome. She faltered a second time, then said, "I don't think I can...it's been so long since..."

"...it's all right now," I assured her. "You're safe with us, Jayden."

Closing her eyes, she nodded tentative agreement, then lifted her silken nightgown over her head, stunning us with the revelation that her breasts and stomach were covered with scars, burns from having endured some secret horror. My heart sank, and I gasped, instantly knowing she had suffered frightening cruelty. She slipped into our bed and buried her head in my shoulder. I held her as she wept.

Part 8

The three of us stayed motionless as Jayden's tears slid from her eyes and onto my shoulder. Throughout, she hugged me but refused to look up. I stroked her soft hair until her sobs faded and her tensed body relaxed. Marty placed his arm around my neck, and we waited until she stilled. Then he spoke. "Sleep in here with us tonight, Jayden. That's all, just sleep."

With his comforting words, her hands relaxed, then retreated across my tummy, lingering at my navel. I was afraid to move for fear of breaking the spell. With the backs of her fingers, Jayden, feeling for his stubbled chin, reached for Marty. Touching his lips, she circled them, seeking entry. He took her wrist and drew her index finger into his mouth, sucked it, then pulled her finger away and placed it in my mouth.

At first, I, too, sucked, savoring the taste of the two people I loved. "Mmm..." I murmured. Jayden smiled, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of the friend I had known long ago. Sucking more urgently, my mind adjourned to fantasy. Searching my eyes, Jayden withdrew her finger from my mouth and touched my breasts. Lowering herself and as if in search of maternal sanctuary, she sucked my nipple. I held her tight—she sucked more.

She moved to the other nipple, each turning erect. I moaned and lifted one breast and then the other to her probing mouth. She sucked hungrily, her explorations making me wet. I opened my legs; Marty's hand slipped into me, his large fingers opening my sex. Jayden followed his lead, her hand intertwining with his, exploring my body's hideaway.

Confusing as it was, my pussy, sending clear messages, distinguished Marty's touch from hers. One was forceful, masculine, and strong—the other, womanly, delicate, soft. The feel of their fingers was more comforting than I expected, and I liked what they did together.

I reached for her and drew her mouth to mine. As our lips sealed, I tasted Jayden's feminine affection, a woman's affection abounding in reminders of a long-ago time. I turned and took Marty's face into my hands, inviting him into our kiss. Three tongues intermingled as he moved between us, exploring first my mouth, then Jayden's, before she ventured back to my waiting breasts. "Suck them more, girlfriend," I urged.

With my tongue in Marty's mouth, Jayden tenderly pulled at the tight buds of my nipples. Her eyes were soft, and we pushed together, moving the blanket from Marty's lower body, exposing his erection and his testicles, engorged with expectation. He held our heads in his strong hands and guided us to the tip of his cock. There, Jayden stopped, waiting until I had taken him fully into my mouth. She smiled as I sucked and carefully lifted and separated his testicles.

After kneading her fragile finds, Jayden, more aggressively now, drew one, then both of his balls into her mouth, where she busily bathed them with her tongue. His head fell back onto the pillow. He wallowed in a moment of male triumph. Then, unable to resist the steamy eroticism of the sight, he quickly returned to his more pleasurable vantage point where he watched enthralled.

Jayden's hand moved over my shaven slit. I opened my legs wide for her. Feeling my body's heat, she inserted two fingers. When I felt a third, I seized her face and kissed her hard on the lips. "Suck my sex, Jayden," I commanded. Rolling my hips, I spread wider, urging her into me and her delicate hand slid back in place. I held my breath as she seized, then twisted my cervix, holding it firmly between skilled fingers. She gave it a gentle tug, and I winced in gratifying pain at the strength in her otherwise delicate fingers. She smiled before pulling away. Our bodies were ready. We needed to be fucked.

"I want your prick, Marty," I panted. Jayden, grinning, nodded excitedly. It was time—we needed cock—hard cock. A moment I had never envisioned was upon us, the one where I watched as the love of my life penetrated another woman, his precious penis—my penis—prepared to slide into another's body. Like all wives, I wondered how it would be, whether I could accept it. I am a woman. I know jealousy. The thought of a woman touching Marti mortified me. This, however, did not affect me the same way. Jayden was not just some other woman, and I loved them both too much to cut short the beautiful consequence of bringing my friendship with Jayden to our bed. How, I wondered, might we feel afterward? Would Marty still need me as before? The question frightened me.