No I don’t. I was navigating through a tiny spot in the road. Hoping to back this weekend
Mud Stuck in High School
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My best friend in high school was John, a cute-ass country boy. He lived on a dirt road and usually wore jeans and a pair of dusty cowboy boots. He drove a mid-70s GM car with a 400 4-barrel, and was constantly spinning his tires in that thing. One day we were driving down a dirt road south of town. It had rained the night before, so the road was slick and muddy. As we drove down the muddy road, John would slam his boot down on the gas and spin his tires, causing the back end of the car to fishtail and slide in the mud. He'd slam his boot down on the brake, locking up his tires and skidding to a stop sideways in the road, then slam down on the gas and spin those tires hard. He'd look in the mirror at the patches he was laying in the mud and laugh as he kept his boot pegged on the gas. Damn, that boy turned me on!
At one point we came up on an old railroad bed that had long been deserted. He got a sexy, cocky grin on his face and said, "Let's see how far we get," and turned the car down into the railroad bed. My dick started to stiffen in my jeans, anticipation coursing through my body. It was pretty clear that the car, powerful though it was, was going to be no match for the muddy railroad bed. The rear tires started to break loose, and I could hear the mud spinning up into the wheel wells. As John put his boot heavier and heavier onto the gas pedal trying to maintain the forward momentum of the car, the tires spun faster, the ass end of the car sliding sideways uncontrollably. Eventually, with his boot flooring the gas, the car slid to a stop, back tires spinning hard and my dick lurching upward in my jeans.
"Shit," said John. He threw the car into reverse and floored it, spinning his tires and flinging mud up the side of the car and onto the sideview mirror. He threw the car into drive and again hit the gas, but his tires continued to spin.
"Dammit," he said. "We're stuck."
"Want me to get out and push?" I asked, hoping for the opportunity to grind my dick up against the back of his car as he spun his tires.
"No," he said, "I can get us out of here."
For the next fifteen minutes, I watched this stud slam his cowboy boot down on the gas pedal, spinning those tires hard forward, then in reverse, then forward again, throwing mud all over the place. Hearing the ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz sound his spinning tires made in the mud, I felt pre-cum flow out of my now rock-hard dick, which caused a wet spot to form in my jeans. I stole a furtive glance at the crotch of John's jeans - he didn't have a boner, but his balls were incredible under that denim. I felt the flow of his testosterone as I watched his cowboy boot floor the gas, listened to his spinning tires, and felt the car vibrate with the anger he was unleashing on his tires.
"FUCK!" he shouted, and slammed his boot on the gas, pegging the speedometer, which caused my body to shudder as I came violently into my jeans.
"Shit," I thought to myself. "How the hell am I gonna explain that damn wet spot in my jeans?"
Smoke started to roll off of his spinning tires as they connected with rocks and pieces of old lumber in the muddy railroad bed. As John held his boot to the floor, the car began to move backward. Imperceptibly at first, we began to break free of the slick, gooey hold of the mud. He kept the car floored, spinning his tires relentlessly in the thick mud of the railroad bed.
As we continued backward toward the road, I glanced over at John again, zeroing in on his crotch and wishing I could bury my face in that incredible package of his.
Once we were eventually back on the road, John threw the car into drive and floored his boot down on the gas. With a pissed-off , sexy-as-hell look on his face, he spun those tires like a madman and laid an unbelievable patch in the muddy road, and my still-hard dick lurched again in my jeans. When we got to the stop sign at the main road, he skidded his tires and slid to a stop, then floored it again. His tires spun hard, slinging gravel up into the fender well, and when they hit the pavement of the main road, squealed in ecstasy, laying a long, snaking, hot patch of burnt rubber.
I don't remember much else that happened that day, but the memory of that drive down that muddy railroad bed has served me well over the years.
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@Kevin that's awesome man, glad it got you hard!! While that was a true story, maybe I'll come up with a "part 2" of what the continuation of the story could have looked like and put it out here.+1:
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@spinthosetires yess please i would love that!
