Jungkook stood on the desolate highway shoulder, thumb out under the flickering moonlight, his heart pounding with that familiar hunger. At 19, his lithe body—smooth skin, perky B-cup boobs under a tight crop top, and that secret pussy aching between his legs—drew eyes like moths to flame. Shorts rode high, barely hiding the damp spot forming. He'd thumbed rides before, chasing the thrill of rough strangers claiming his holes, but tonight felt charged. Headlights pierced the dark: an old sedan rumbling to a stop.

The driver door swung open. Out stepped Mr. Harlan—grandpa's best friend since forever, pushing 78, silver hair slicked back, face etched with deep wrinkles, body stocky but strong from farm work. Thick glasses magnified sharp blue eyes that locked on Jungkook instantly. 'Jungkook? That you, boy? What in tarnation you doin' out here at this hour?'