There are defining moments in life that I am sure we all look back on and remember. The day I was hitchhiking and a car stopped to give me a ride, would become the most defining moment of my life. The reason I found myself in this situation can be summarized as follows:

I was a below-average student at school and knew I would never attend college. Knowing that I would end up in an ordinary low-paying job and eking out an everyday existence, I decided that when school ended, I would embark on an adventure. I would hit the road, and hitchhike my way around, for as long as the money I had squirreled away over the past few years, would last. After that, hopefully, I would be able to sustain my sojourn by finding odd jobs.

My mother wasn’t too excited about my project, but I got a distinct feeling that my dad liked the idea and was sorry that he hadn’t done something similar.

Once school finished and after all the discussions and deliberations ended, I got on my merry way, before promising my mother that I would keep in touch constantly.

Being a country boy who had grown up in a hick town, the cities naturally held the greatest attraction for me, and the first two I visited blew my mind. I had to curb myself from becoming too enthused by my initial impressions and then decided that I needed to visit a few more places before arriving at any final judgment. I was also very proud of my frugality, and happy that I would not have to desperately seek employment or scuttle off home with my tail between my legs too soon.

Between destinations most of the people that picked me up during locations were charming, and I even got a few free meals when they stopped at eating places for a snack.

From a sexual point of view, I saw virtually no action from the people giving me rides. The only exception was when an obese trucker asked me to suck his knob. He was disgusting and smelly, and although my head got wedged between his fat rolls as he face-fucked me, thankfully, he came very quickly, and I was able to make my escape in the next town we entered. His promise of an anal assault later was a great motivating factor.

Three months later, the defining moment I referred to earlier, came about.

I was elated and delighted when a top-of-the-range luxury German saloon came to a halt slightly ahead of me. The fuckin’ interior of the vehicle looked like a space-age craft. I was barely able to communicate with the driver as my eyes scanned the interior and my nose twitched inhaling the unmistakable odour of prosperity. The fragrance of expensive leather, although unfamiliar, was unambiguously awe-inspiring.

When my spinning eyes finally focussed on my benefactor, I beheld an unattractive tall and bald man in his late fifties.

“I’m, Gregor,” he informed me.

“I’m Dillon,” I answered.

After a pause, Gregor replied, “That’s a sexy name.”

I was slightly stunned by the adjective he used but didn’t fixate upon it. I did, however, look at him with more attentiveness. Gregor was no stunner and to be honest, rather unattractive. He had a large bulbous nose that hung above a thick and abundant moustache. The feature that intrigued me most about Gregor, was the size of his wingnut ears that flanked his face like oversized sugar bowl handles.

“This is a sexy car,” I murmured in response to his earlier comment.

“Thanks,” he replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

As we continued chatting and I told him about my sojourn and how I was looking forward to visiting the upcoming city, Gregor’s expression became lustful. His glancing eyes seemed to be appraising me.

“Dillon, you are welcome to spend the night at my place. That should save you a few bucks,” Gregor proffered.

I protested in faux dissent, telling him that I did not want to inconvenience him at all, but happily, he insisted on offering me his hospitality. If I had been impressed by his vehicle, his palatial mansion blew my mind.

Gregor had a lady that took care of his home and did the cooking for him. She was not a live-in maid and departed shortly after our arrival. The meal she had prepared had been placed on a warming tray in the dining room.

As we took the grand tour of his home, I got the impression that we would be eating sometime later. Gregor certainly wanted to fuck before dinner, and my suspicion was confirmed when he accosted me in the bedroom. After our clothing frantically disappeared from our bodies, we were soon on the bed making out. Gregor had a hairy and well-built body for a man of his age. What particularly blew my mind was Gregor’s dick. It was the longest uncut dick that I had ever seen. It was shaped like a prizewinning cucumber and hung way down his thighs. Fortunately, it was not very thick and I could easily accommodate it in my mouth. Given its length, however, I was only able to ingest forty percent before my throat began rebelling.

For the next hour, we had sex and Gregor was an impressive lover. Apart from enjoying the sixty-nine position, he also fucked me from every angle and in a multitude of positions. In my lacklustre sex life up to that point, his prowess overwhelmed me.

When we eventually sat down to supper, Gregor looked at me and asked, “Have you ever heard the term; valet de chambre?”

“No,” I honestly replied.

“Well, it’s a term for manservant, a valet, if you like,” he concluded.

“Oh?” I quizzically answered, wondering why he was telling me this.

“Dillon, I was thinking, that if you aren’t in a hurry to move on, I could offer you a job… For as long as you like. In that way, you could earn extra money, because your food and lodging would be free, and when it suits you, you can move on,” Gregor informed me.

Gregor now went on to explain that the main purpose I would be expected to perform was one of ‘companionship.’ He was not into formality and wouldn’t expect me to dress up like a cartoonesque penguin to perform my duties, especially when he had friends around. All his gatherings were catered for by a professional company, and therefore, I would merely be a surrogate host during these functions. My only other duty would be grocery shopping for him, and he had an SUV vehicle that would be at my disposal.

In conclusion, when he told me what he was prepared to pay me, my eyes lit up. It almost seemed to be good to be true. As would come to know, however, there was a sexual cost involved. This price was only revealed a few days later.

The evening that I got introduced to his unusual sexual predilection was a shock for me. Gregor first went on to explain that he enjoyed oral sex was above all else before I got taken into his large shower for a demonstration of what he had in mind.

Once I kneeled before him in the shower, Gregor became less gentle as he commenced spearing his dick into my mouth. As his cock-head began to ‘torment’ the back of my throat, I started sputtering and salivating prodigiously. From Gregor’s verbalizing, it was clear that he wanted to go as deep as possible.

Between gasps, I mumbled that if he continued, I might puke.

“That’s the whole idea, Dillon. Emetophilia is what turns me on the most. Now stop acting like a baby, and take my retch rod all the way down your fuckin’ throat,” he demanded.

I was flustered and became mildly panicky.

“Dillon, you are no good to me unless you throw up, that’s what emetophilia means, and that’s what turns me on.”

With tears and bile flowing from me, Gregor’s plunger went in search of its quarry. “I won’t let you choke to death, just trust me,” Gregor reassuring uttered.

Shortly, Gregor’s mission got accomplished as I began to hurl. My, spray of vomit coated his crotch, legs, and coated my chest. Accompanying groans of unbridled delight from Gregor then resounded. Wanting more, his second onslaught then got underway. As my stomach unleashed another offering, Gregor’s shouts of delight followed with the announcement that he was about to unload. His spunk now blended into the deluge of spew as his body shuddered in ecstasy.

When I got to my feet the water from the shower was flowing, as Gregor demonstrated the food waste disposer he had built into his drain. As he passionately hugged me in gratitude, the whirring sound surrounded us.

“That was fuckin’ awesome, Dillon. Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” he said as he commenced drying himself off.

Stunned as I was, the passion he displayed strangely overawed me.

With trepidation on the bed later, as we cuddled I asked, “How often are we going to do this?”

“Oh, only once a week. If we do this too often, then it would become ordinary. Secondly, I don’t want you to become bulimic,” he concluded with a chuckle.

Affectionately, Gregor then said, “You were brilliant, buddy. Thanks. We must just make sure you overeat when we have one of your ‘purging’ sessions in the future.” We both had a good giggle.

Six months later I was still living with Gregor. I grew accustomed to his penchant and didn’t mind it. My parents were overjoyed that I had found such a great job, and even spoke to Gregor when I phoned them.

Much as I was sure they knew I was gay and realized I was in a relationship, I could help to giggle about what they would have thought about our retching sessions.