Tge Hitcher

Stories and fantasies about gay encounters in rainwear
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cammacg
Posts: 122
Joined: August 31st, 2010, 6:31 pm

Tge Hitcher

Post by cammacg »

The Hitcher

Whew, I had just got back to the lorry, as it started to pour down. I had stopped at “Kate’s Kabin” transport café, on the old A1. I was southbound, and fancied a snack, and “Kate’s” was the ideal spot.
I threw my mackintosh on the bunk, feeling glad I didn’t have to hang it up to dry, stowed the few things I had bought, in various cupboards, including some fresh food that went into the fridge.
The Scania truck I was driving, was just about two years old, and was all singing and dancing. There were three cupboards above the windscreen. In the middle one, was the microwave oven. The one above the passenger seat, housed the coffee machine, and that, along with the invention of coffee bags, assured a decent cup of coffee, whenever I wanted. I slept on the bottom bunk, and the top carried most of my luggage, which was quite voluminous, as I was usually away from home, for several long weeks at a time. My guitar lived on the lower bunk during the day. Beneath that bunk, the space was divided into three sections. Either end, the space was a locker, accessible from the outside, and the centre space, was a fridge / freezer. Probably the single most important asset the truck held. Along with a night heater, and air conditioning, it made me a happy trucker. The floor of the cab was almost dead flat, which made my moving around my home on wheels, extremely easy. It felt good, and everything worked well.
I fired the engine up, let it idle for a few seconds, while I fastened my seat belt, then selected first gear, released the handbrake, and began to ease the forty five tonne juggernaut, out of the lorry park.
The exit road isn’t that long, so timing is necessary, and I almost didn’t see the hitch hiker, standing in the rain. The person wasn’t standing with a thumb out, but the fact that they wanted a lift was apparent. I don’t know why I stopped, because I don’t normally pick up hitchers, but it was pouring down, and to be honest, I felt sorry for the guy. It then occurred to me that the hitcher looked like a woman.
I stopped the truck, snapped the handbrake on, released my seatbelt and leant right across the cab, to unlock, and open the door. When the door opened, I was looking at a mature woman, a wet bedraggled woman. She asked me where I was heading, and when I told her Dover, she asked if I would take her to Rochester. That was bang on my route. She threw her grip, up onto the floor of the cab, and set about climbing the five steps up into the passenger well. I then realised that I was looking at a figure wearing a mackintosh. A Blue polka dot mackintosh, with a hood, that was still hiding her face.
She was undoing her mackintosh, and trying to get her balance. I told her, she would find a coat hanger, on the top bunk, as I often needed one myself. I lay my mackintosh, out across the edge of the bunk, so her garment wouldn’t wet my quilt, and she hung the wet coat, to drip dry. She sat down and buckled the seat belt, whilst I began the process of getting the rig rolling. That needs a bit of concentration, so she had time to sort herself out. By the time we had gained the highway, she was settled in the air sprung seat, belted in, and was adjusting the armrests.
I looked across and said “Hi, I’m George, your chauffeur for the day, how are you doing?”
She smiled and replied, “Hi, I’m Pamela, but you can call me Pam. Thanks for stopping, it was getting a bit wet for a minute,” She looked to be in her late fifties, and didn’t look to be the type to be hitching. She said that she had been visiting relatives, and her car had broken down. The garage that rescued her, was just up behind “Kate’s Kabin”, they took her car into Alwalton, a good distance from the nearest large town, which was Peterborough, so she thought it would be quicker to hitch. Lucky for her, I was headed for Dover, and the ferries, my ultimate destination being Marseille in the south of France. She wanted to get to Rochester in Kent, so she had certainly struck lucky.
We chatted on general things, the least of them, the view from the lofty heights of the truck’s cab. The temperature soon warmed up, helping her to relax a little, and, the drying mackintosh was emitting its wonderful aroma. It wasn’t long, before Pamela was beginning to nod off. I told her how to recline the seat, and to re-set the armrests, to make herself comfortable.
She was well asleep, and I couldn’t resist the attraction of her mackintosh. It was hanging just a few inches from my left hand. All I had to do, was to let my hand stray inside of those rubbery folds. It was beautiful. Cool, thick, expanse of black rubber. In truth, I couldn’t keep my hand off it.
With no roundabouts or traffic lights, the truck purred along, with nothing to disturb her, she slept on. Hopefully helping her to recover from her traumatic experience with her car. We had been going for some time, and I couldn’t keep my hands off that rubber lining.
“So, you love rubber too! ”When she spoke, she frightened me to death. The truck, needless to say, did a wobble. “When I saw your mackintosh on the bunk, it made me wonder.”
I don’t know if it was the shame of being caught touching her mackintosh, or the shock of my innermost secret being discovered, but I felt a blush spreading rapidly round my body. Both hands were now back on the wheel. Slowly. I began to regain my composure. I tried hard, not to stammer. “Yes I do. I have loved rubber, especially mackintoshes, since I was a small boy.” I paused for a moment, and thought, well, I’ve come this far….” In fact, I love all garments of rubber, from underwear to outerwear, including rubber gloves, and I do have quite a bit of it. Some here, and more at home.”
When I looked across at her, she smiled and said, “That wasn’t easy was it, telling me?”
“No, it wasn’t.” I replied, “But it feels like a weight off my mind, and this polka dot mackintosh of yours, is absolutely beautiful. I always carry a mackintosh with me, even in the sunshine. Well, you never know when it’s going to rain, a boy has to be prepared.” I told her of one particular mackintosh, I had owned. It was, I believe, a Mac Mac, double rubber mackintosh, that I bought in a charity shop, on Hayling Island, in Hampshire. That mackintosh travelled all over Europe with me. I had some wonderful times with it, especially on ferries, when alone at night. She didn’t tell me a lot about herself, and I didn’t want to alarm her by asking too many questions, but we passed the time quite easily, and before long we had arrived at the truck stop at South Mimms.
I found a slot to park in. Reversed in and shut the motor down. We were preparing to get out, and I thought the time was right to ask if I could bury my face in the rubber lining of her mackintosh. I was breaking out in a blush, again, but was delighted when she said yes. I turned to face her, and gathered up the folds of the garment, and touched it to my face. The smell, the sight, the touch was amazing. I had never touched, a mackintosh like it, before. Then I felt her also begin to touch my face to her mackintosh, wrapping my entire head in the rubber. I sat still for a couple of minutes whilst she fondled my face. It was heaven. Absolute heaven.
I held her mackintosh, as she slipped her arms into it, I grabbed my mack off the bunk, and climbed down, ran round, to assist her getting down. It’s all too easy to slip on the numerous steps, when it’s difficult to see properly. She had buttoned and belted the mackintosh around her ample figure, so I was there, at the bottom of the steps, as she began to climb down, backwards, of course, the safest way. I noticed she appeared to be wearing stockings. I couldn’t help wondering, if she was, or did ever, wear rubber knickers. I admit, I was naughty, I let her mackintosh brush my face as she descended. She was busy climbing down, slowly, and didn’t notice. But it was so very tempting to slip my hands up her legs, to feel the naked flesh, at the tops of her hosiery. But then she was on the bottom step, with just one more rather large step for womankind. She didn’t slip, more underestimated the gap. But all of a sudden, she was falling backwards. But I was there to catch her. As she landed on the ground, I found I had my arms around her. Actually, around her waist, with her and her mackintosh in my arms. I had a massive erection. She, sort of settled in my hold, mainly, I think, to regain her balance. But I didn’t let go, not that I was holding her tightly, but I was making sure she was safe.
I became aware that she could feel me pressing against her, and tried to move my middle area, back, away from her. She half turned to face me. It was her turn to blush now. We both said “sorry”. She was almost facing me now, and it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. First, I kissed her left cheek. She turned more, and I thought she was going to tell me off, so I kissed her mouth, very gently, and to my delight, found she was returning my kiss.
Then she broke away, still in my arms, but not as close as she was. She said, “I think there is something I should tell you”.
“I cut her off by saying, “I know.” She looked totally perplexed, so I continued, “I like what I see, and I like what I know, and it doesn’t bother me one bit. Shall we go and get something to eat. If it bothers you, there won’t be many drivers in the restaurant, at this time of the afternoon.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have never been more sure, about anything.”
I slammed the door shut and locked up. I turned towards the café area, and then I found her hand in mine. And it felt so good, so natural. We walked slowly but purposefully towards the main building. I asked her, “Are you OK with this?”
“I think I am, even though I have never done anything like this before.”
“First time for everything. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” We both laughed at that, and stepped through the doorway, into the café entrance. Over the simple meal, I ventured to ask her which toilets she would use. She looked rather askance, and she told me, “the ladies, I guess.”
“Well”. I said. “There are no women in the café, so you shouldn’t be disturbed.” And that is exactly how it was. She looked somewhat refreshed, when she emerged, and joined me, as I waited for her.
It was still raining, so we fastened mackintoshes, and she pulled up the hood on hers. It was a deep hood, and she had the front edge folded back, so her face was framed by black rubber. It was a delightful picture. So, I told her so. Again, she replied “thank you sir.”
“I guess you will have to hang your mackintosh up again to dry,” I said, as we neared the truck.
“Will that be OK?” She asked.
“I’m not sure about that,” I answered, smiling like a Cheshire cat. I unlocked and opened the door. We were stood in that little corner of privacy, afforded by the open door. She made ready to climb in, then stopped, turned around to face me, and reached her arms up, and pulled my head down, to meet hers, in a beautifully tender kiss. I slipped one arm around her shoulders, and the other around her wet, mackintoshed waist, pulled her closer to me, and kissed her back. The rubber of her hood just inches from my face. She clung to me, moved one of her arms, undid the fold of her hood, and with her free hand, pressed the rubber lining against my face. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It was a dream come true. My erection was straining to get out, and all I could say was, “we ought to get moving”. To be thinking of anything else, South Mimms truck park, was not the best place. She turned, and I helped her to climb up into the cab, making sure I had my hands on her rubber mackintoshed body, as she climbed. I had visions of her stockinged thighs, and of what I would find, if I was to be so lucky as to explore those thighs. I climbed into the truck, took off my own mackintosh, and laid it rubber side down on the bunk, to make sure my quilt didn’t get wet, then helped her to take off her mackintosh, and watched as she hung it up again, on the hanger. I noticed it was hanging closer to my arm, than it had been before.
Then the delights of the M25. There wasn’t much of an opportunity to fondle her mackintosh, with the volume of traffic, but I did manage to stroke it occasionally, quite by accident of course. She knew when I did too. She wore a knowing smile, even though I could sense her shyness.
The M25 passed beneath us. The QE Bridge, excited her, seeing the view from the lofty heights of the cab. I knew we didn’t have far to go, till we would be on the M2, and then into Rochester. I had to ask, though I knew the answer. There was only one answer, but I had to ask. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’ think there is anything we can do.” She replied.
“I am going to Marseilles. I have to the on the ferry tonight. Are you free.? Can you come with me.?
“You do know my difficulty, my problem.? She tailed off.
“I know. And I want that. I want you. I am fully aware of what it is all about. Of what cross dressing is all about. Maybe it’s you that isn’t sure. But a week’s trip to the Riviera would clarify things for both of us. Whether it turns out good, or not, it would be fun.”
“I can’t just go off like that. But you will be back through here, in a week’s time, and if you still feel sure, I will be here, waiting for you. If you are not sure, then you don’t have to stop. When we get to the bottom of the slip road, turn left, I live about a half a mile from here. I will show you where.”
She pointed out where her house was, she gave me a slip of paper with her telephone number on it with her address. She told me to drive past her house, to a supermarket, where I could drop her off, and turn around to get back to the motorway.
She unbuckled her seat belt, stood up to take her mackintosh. I had stood too. I now held her garment, as a gentleman would. She slipped her arms into the rubber sleeves, and I settled it round her shoulders. I just had to sneak a feel of that beautiful, black, rubber lining. I couldn’t help but slip my arms around her waist and pulled her gently back against my body. She turned, and came into my arms, we began a kiss that was almost desperate. But common sense overruled. She broke away, fastened the buttons, tightened the belt. She was ready to leave.
I climbed quickly down, went round to her side, as she opened the door. I stood and watched her climb down, this time without incident, neither did I touch her this time. I didn’t want to do anything improper, in case anyone was watching, that she might know. I reached down her bag, and, with a smile she was walking away from me. I closed the door, went back to the driver’s side, climbed in, and watched as she reached the road, ready to cross to the other side where the houses were.
I started the truck up, in preparation to move to the entrance, and turn towards the motorway. By now she was standing at the foot of the steps leading to her front door. I made my turn onto the main road, gave her a final wave, and continued my journey to Dover. My heart sad, and my head full of……what if…….if only?. But I had a ferry to catch.
wetrainwear
Posts: 49
Joined: August 1st, 2018, 12:13 pm
Location: Notts

Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by wetrainwear »

Great story..
saxon12343
Posts: 40
Joined: March 17th, 2016, 11:25 am

Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by saxon12343 »

Beautiful story, but more instalments please?
rubbermac
Posts: 344
Joined: January 17th, 2010, 1:01 pm
Location: Doncaster

Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by rubbermac »

Wonderful story......Many Thanks
hotwilly
Posts: 2212
Joined: March 17th, 2011, 9:03 pm
Location: Scunthorpe

Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by hotwilly »

Nice story, well written and sensitive.
Hope there is a further instalment
Broad minded enough to acknowledge we all enjoy different things:)
rubnylon2
Posts: 72
Joined: May 26th, 2016, 6:57 pm
Location: Norwich
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Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by rubnylon2 »

Wonderful tale just loved it
maidjenny
Posts: 125
Joined: August 31st, 2017, 11:58 am
Location: West Yorkshire
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Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by maidjenny »

Wow great but I am sorry I messed before I got to finish it.
Whitsun
Posts: 7
Joined: June 18th, 2021, 4:48 pm

Re: Tge Hitcher

Post by Whitsun »

Terrific story, featuring a mackintosh lover who had a MacMac rubberette mack in the past, just like me!
More please
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