Waking up in a car is never good. Never. You only do it if it's better then the other options, which in my case comes to waking up in my home, next to my husband. Oh, I'll take the car. Take the car and love it, take the car and fucking celebrate. Yeah, I can do this every day for the rest of my life, just don't make me go home.
I've been driving from Jersey, drove all night, drove until I just couldn't drive anymore, and then I pulled off in a truck stop because I was finally tired enough to sleep. I only woke up because there was a guy leering into the window. I flip him the bird and close my eyes again. He leaves but, I suppose , tells others about me, and soon there are men pacing a few feet from my car. Shit. I am what is known in common parlance as "hot." A am that thing men want - a "hot young chick." Why lie about it? Sometimes it's a good thing that I can use to my advantage, but most of the time it's a pain in the ass. Still, it isn't like I'm going to give it up, right? I could start eating like a pig, I suppose, or slice my cheekbones (which have been compared to those of Keira Knightly) but I won't. I'll keep being a hot chick every second that I can and then some, if I have enough to keep it going by cosmetic surgery. It's something a girl gets used to, and I've seen how it fucks you up when you lose it. So, sure, I don't exactly want these greasers staring at me, but I guess it's part of the deal.
I get out of my car, groggy. My mouth tastes like paste. But all they see is that I have tight jeans and a white t-shirt with no bra on, which is because I was asleep, you know.
"Hey, honey." Out of the three of them it is the biggest, the fattest, the ugliest who talks.
"Get a life," I say.
"Whoo, get a life, ha!" he repeats like it's a real funny quip. "Yeh, what kinda life you got, honey?" Pretty randy for whatever godforsaken hour of the morning it is.
I ignore them and go to the convenience store and straight into the bathroom. After I piss, I notice the condoms in the machine. Used to be condoms were only in the men's rooms, but now days we all know that men can't even be trusted to put six quarters into a machine. You can look at it as women's rights, I guess. I just see it as, do we have to do fucking everything ourselves? Yes, would be the answer. And then I decide, what the fuck, I should have a condom with me, you know, just in case. It takes a long time to get the dollar into the slot, longer then it takes to get a dick in a condom, and after I put the second one in - it goes in quicker, maybe the things gotten lubricated or something - I push the button. And nothing comes out. Shit.
I brush my teeth, take a long time, brush my tongue, just like my mom taught me. And then I wander around the place, look at the lame dvds being sold. Looking out the window I see that the three guys are still around my car. I had parked out, as far as I could get from the bustle of the convenience stores cause I was hoping to get some sleep, and now I wish the car wasn't so distant. Still, I'm on my own again, and need to get used to handling things. See, I figure I'll do whatever I gotta do. I can fuck a guy if I have to, but I can also kill a guy if I have to. And I'll tell you right now, I ain't fucking any of those guys.
"I lost a dollar fifty in there," I say to the guy at the cash register.
He looks over toward the bathroom where I pointed. "Right, well you gotta contact the company." He's been asked this before. "What did you lose?"
The guy is twenty five or so, dark black hair, bushy eyebrows. I look at him. Does he want me to say it? Does he think I'll be ashamed, or does it just turn him on? "A condom."
"Huh?" He isn't fucking with me, he really is clueless.
"A CONDOM!" I yell. See, I'm not going to be put in the wrong here.
"Oh," and he starts to blush, which is actually kinda sweet in a really pathetic kind of way. "Well, we sell them," he says, pointing behind.
"Yeh, but then I'd have to buy them again, which isn't fair," I said.
The women behind me in the line are getting pissed off, which I gotta say I kind of enjoy.
"Well, I..."the guy is flustered. "Here." He hands me a packet.
So that's probably not fair either, because he'll probably have to pay for it. But, like I say, I'm a hot chick. We don't question these things. And anyway, it's probably the highlight of his day. "Thanks," I say, and I'm off.
Only now the fat pig is sitting on my car. It's maybe nine a.m. and he's got a beer. Tryin' to give himself courage. Warning signs, I know. I could go back and get some assistance but, like I say, I gotta learn to handle shit. So I walk up to him. "Wanna get off my car?"
"We got some money," he says. I look at him, you know, give him the total once-over to let him know how lame he is, and then look at the other two. One of them is actually counting dollar bills, the other is looking down, smart enough to be ashamed.
"You wanna get your fat ass off my car?" I say.
"You probably think I don't got money," he says. "But I do. How's about a thou?"
I have to say, this gives me pause. It puts things into a totally different perspective. I only have about eighty bucks on me. It occurs to me that I hadn't even thought about money until this moment. I can't use cards. My husband is probably calling around the house for me now and when he figures I took off he'll come after me. I'm gonna need some money.
I'm foggy headed. "What state are we in boys?" I ask to buy some time.
"You're in Ohio, honey."
"Ohio." The name wraps around my tongue and then just hangs there.
"So, how about it honey?"
A thousand dollars would help. "What do you want for the money?"
"What do you think we want?" he says.
"Fuck that," I say. "Get off the car."
"Now wait a minute, we can talk about this."
"A thousand gets you a hand job."
"A hand job?" They're all laughing, which I guess I can kind of understand. "Honey, you ain't that hot."
"Then get off the car."
"How about this?" He pauses. "I'll pay you the thousand for just me. You don't have to fuck them."
"Hey," says the taller of the two, "I gave you my money."
"Ah, you'll get it back, you'll get it back," he says. "How about it."
I think about it. I could use the money. But he's a pig. And I'm not a whore. So I tell him to get off the car.
"Jesus," he says. "What the fuck do you expect to give for a thousand."
"I told you," I said. "A hand job?"
"Shit," he says. "That's it?"
"Na, that's not it," I say.
"So, what else would I get?" he says, being sure to try to keep it all in the theoretical, still not sure that he wants to part with the thousand.
So I walk over to his side. I place my hand delicately - just so - on his fat thigh, right next to his groin area, which I see expanding, the zipper area moving up higher and higher. And I whisper into his ear, low and throaty, "I'll talk dirty to you."
He swallows. "Will you take your shirt off?" So I know I've got him.
"Come on," I smile. "We'll do it in the men's room?"
"The men's room," he says. "Shit, we'll do it right here."
No. I figure out here it'll turn into a rape and I might not even get to keep the money. I'm not stupid.
"In the men's room or it's a no go."
"And you'll take your shirt off."
"I'll take my shirt off. But no touching," I say, just to be a bitch.
So he gives me the thousand dollars and we're back in the place, and now we're wondering how the fuck he gets me into the men's room without attracting attention. It's not going to work.
"Is there a McDonalds or something down the way?" I ask.
"Christ," he says. "This is a lot of effort for something I could just do for myself." Yeh, and a lot of money, dumb-ass.
"Is there one?" I ask again.
"Yeh, about five miles down the way."
"I'll follow you."
"Fuck that," he says. "I'll get in the car with you. I'll tell you how to get there."
But as we're driving he just pulls his dick out which is hard and, I must admit, big as shit. "Come on, baby, pull over," he says.
"No," I say, looking through the rear mirror. "Those assholes are following us." I'm not sure, but there is a truck behind us and I can't believe it isn't them.
"Well, you can get rid of a truck can't you?" He's rubbing away on his dick. Maybe he'll do the whole job himself.
I pull off the road, do a quick u-turn, lose the truck like that. I pull over to the side of the road, but only because I know my husband's gun is underneath the seat.
"Whaddya think, baby?" he says, holding his big ol' dick. It is impressive, and is certainly the only thing he has. No brains, no abilities, but he's got a big ol' dick which, you know, is a hell of a lot better than nothing. Prbably got a big ol' fat wife back home with twelve kids. This is about as good as it's going to get for this guy. So I figure, what the hell, and I start stroking the shaft of his penis.
"Oh yeah, baby, yeah," he says, as soon as I start. "Take the shirt off, I wanna see them pretty tits, gotta see me those tits."
So I figure, okay, I'll show him the tits, sort of a reward for his having a nice sized dick. Not that the dick is as nice as my tits though.
"You said you'd, you know, you'd talk dirty to me." Suddenly he's like a little, stupid kid, instead of a big, stupid man.
So I put my mouth to his ear. Oh, baby, you got a big fucking dick. I need you to fuck me with you big dick you fuckin' waste, you dumb fat stupid fuckin' slob."
He's nodding. "Go on, go on."
"You stupid shit. You dumb redneck cocksucking ignorant piece of shit henpecked dumb ass motherfucker." I'm cracking myself up.
"Yeah baby," he says, and he starts fondling my breast. A no-no.
"Hey," I say, letting go of his dick. "That's it. I told you, no touching."
Looking back on it, that was probably not the way to handle it. I mean, you don't get a big fat stupid drunk lumbering red neck all riled up with his hard dick and everything and then tell him to shove off. You're just asking for it. And maybe that's exactly what I was doing. Maybe I wanted what happened to happen. Who knows.
He went ballistic. He growled like an animal and attacked. Now it was a no-holds barred battle, him ripping at my jeans, tearing them apart. I was about to get raped, no two ways about it. Fuck that. Fuck that.
"All right," I screamed, but he didn't hear me. "All right." I stroked his head. "It's okay, we're gonna do it," I said, and the dumb fuck calmed down. He looked at me, sort of stunned and anxious and all. "Give me some tongue, baby," I said, and I kissed him wide open and, sure enough, in came the big flapping tongue, him jamming it down my throat. If he'd just known how to kiss a woman things might have turned out different. It's not impossible.
"Let's get in back, baby," I said, and the poor stupid unsuspecting brut let me climb over the seat. "I'm setting things up for us, baby," I said, and I climbed over and then popped up with - SURPRISE - the 32 automatic. Oh, shit, you should have seen his expression.
He just stared at me with his big mouth open like a fish out of water or something. It cracked me up, him sitting there with his big ol' dick and all, still standing straight. It gave me an idea.
"Get out," and I said it through my gritted teeth, surprised myself at how tough I sounded. He started to rearrange his pants, but I wouldn't let him. "No," I said, "keep it out. Get out." And he did.
I took his wallet. There was another hundred and thirty bucks there. I took that. I looked at the picture of the fat wife. And then I did the cruelest thing I could think of...I laughed at him.
"All right, go on now," he murmured. "You got what you wanted."
"But I'm not finished with you," I said, "Walk." I hadn't decided what I was doing yet, but I knew I wanted to be sure nobody saw me doing it. We walked deeper into the woods. His pecker was down now, but he still had half a hard-on. Pretty good, considering.
"Turn around," I said, and he did. And then I grabbed his dick and I rubbed it. It became full-on hard almost immediately. You had to give it to him, he was an animal, good at one thing.
I bent down on my knees, right in front of him. "Spread em," I said
I motioned to his legs. Well, he couldn't spread them far because of the boots and the jeans, but I helped out. He got outta the boots, outta the jeans, and he spread em. And then I took the gun and shoved it straight up his ass.
"Oh God, please, don't," he said.
"It's up to you," I said. "I'm going to do what you want. I'm going to stick your penis all the way down my throat. I'm going to suck that gargantuan dick of yours. But there's a catch."
He started to whimper.
"If you come, I'm gonna blow a bullet up your sphincter." I looked at him. "You know what a sphincter is, don't you boy?"
He nodded. Like, he didn't know, but he knew. I mean, even he could figure out what I was talking about.
Now, the truth of the matter was that I'd sort of wanted to shove that dick in my mouth as soon as I'd seen it. If he hadn't been such a stupid fucking asshole, I might have done it with him. A dick's a dick, and a big one feels good, even if it's attached to a redneck. And it could have been like my Declaration of Independence from my husband, who had a decent sized dick, but not as big as this one, no way. But I just couldn't see screwing anybody as stupid as this guy was. But this...well, this was turning fun. So I slid the penis in my mouth and, I'll tell you, as big as it looked, it felt bigger. I tickled the sides of his shaft, and he screamed. Screamed out loud, like he was in some kind of delicious agony. He tried to hold off, he was a good little soldier, but after about five minutes if me using my mouth and my hands and my fingers, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Oh, no, oh fuuuuuuuuuuck!" he screamed. And sure enough, within a couple seconds, he exploded, gushing into my mouth in large, spasmodic torrents. He just kept shoving it in, as deep as he could. I figured at that point he'd try to make a break for it, but I guess it just felt too good. Like, even if I was going to kill him, he still wanted to come in my mouth more than to not come in my mouth and just return home to that fat wife of his. Men are like that. It's kind of what I love about them. Also, I think having the gun shoved up his ass must have made the whole thing feel even better.
"Please," he said. "Please don't hurt me child. I'll do whatever you want."
I just looked at him, all spent and all. He'd had a morning all right, one he'd never forget. I pushed the gun deeper up his ass, and he grimaced, closing his yes, praying. Then I pulled it out. "Get down on all fours," I said. He did. I put the gun in his mouth.
"Taste it," I said. "Taste your asshole. Taste your shit. Lick it." And he did, he started licking it, pretending he was blowing the gun, which was kind of funny. "Okay," I said. "Now, close your eyes."
He did. I stroked his cheek. Then I brought the gun down, hard, right over his head. He collapsed. Yep, he was done for the day. I grabbed the clothes. When he came to he'd be lying in the middle of the woods naked. It would be funny as shit.
I got in my car. I don't smoke, but it would have been kinda cool to have smoked a cigarette right then, would have looked cinematic. But I didn't. I just got in the car and kept on driving, feeling good about the twelve hundred bucks in my pocket. It had been a good day's work.