I was feeling quite horny and knew it wouldn’t be long before I was hungry too, and I didn’t expect another check for two days, so I decided to saunter on over to that county park near the campus that had a lot of out-of-the way parking places and was known in my circles as a pickup spot. With luck I’d pick me up a short-term sugar daddy with munch and lunch on his mind. I was sitting there on a picnic table near the entrance, contemplating the condition of my fingernails, when a big yellow blur whooshed past me and turned off into a wooded area, well away from the main picnic section.

I didn’t think much of that for a couple of minutes, until I heard a somewhat irritated voice wafting from over that direction.

"Well, are you here for something special, or are you just wasting the day away? If the first, get your little ass over here."

I unfolded myself from the picnic table and strolled through the fringe of trees to the small parking area. When I got to the clearing, I saw a hippie-type guy leaning up against an old yellow Cadillac convertible. He had a craggy face that looked somewhat familiar, except the dark sunglasses hid quite a bit. He had a light beard and mustache and long silky dirty blond hair that reached below his shoulders. He was wearing a T-shirt with his own face and some writing on the front, and there was a guitar case in his backseat. And then it dawned on me. This was a guitarist from a local band that had gone national and still had tunes on the charts. At least that boded well for a free meal possibility.

I stood there and looked at him, and he sat up against his car and looked me up and down, and I didn’t quite know what to say.

"Well, up close, I like what I see," he said in a twangy voice. "So, do you want to come around and get in, and I’ll give you a ride?"

"A ride?" I asked lamely.

"Yes, a ride." And then he snickered and added, "I’ll even let you ride in my car."

"Why do we need to ride anywhere? We can just do it here, can’t we?" I asked.

"This park’s too well known. I know where there’s another one nearby that’s safer."

"OK, why not," I answered. I bleakly walked around and we both got into his car, and he pulled out of the parking area.

"Drag?" he said, as he offered what obviously was more than a cigarette to me. I politely declined the offer.

"Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. Gotta gig myself, but I like, you know, like to get off before I go on stage. And after too, for that matter," and he gave another little laugh. I don’t know how high he was already, but I kept very quiet so he could concentrate on his driving.

"Do this often?" he asked, as we drove out into the countryside?

"No. No, I don’t," I answered.

"Sweet."

He pulled into another, larger county park and drove into the far end of a secluded parking lot and turned around and backed his Cadillac up to the edge of a little dell.

"Get on out, and come around to the trunk," he said, as he opened his door, got out, stripped his jeans and briefs off, and threw them