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“Leroy, let me handle this,” the fat fuck said, holding his palm up in front of the undernourished one’s face. “Missy, if I were a lesser man, I’d do something mighty ugly to you, but my daddy raised me better than to hit a woman. So I’m just gonna let this one slide.”
I laughed in his face and mocked him with my country accent. “Well, I sure do appreciate it.”
I was growing bored. The karaoke was giving me a headache and the drink was weak because most of the ice had melted. I was about to leave when they announced the next contestant.
“Umph, look at him!” I said aloud.
Fat Fuck turned to me and chuckled. “So you got a thing for white meat, huh? No wonder you’re up in here.” He nudged his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, Leroy, this one over here has that ‘jungle fever’ in her blood.”
“I have a thing for dick period,” I said bluntly.
“Boys have dicks. Real men have cocks,” he said.
I shook my head. “A cock is a chicken. A dick is a dick.”
“Well, since you put it like that, I happen to have a dick,” he said, licking his lips. “So does my buddy over here. How about you take the two of us on a little adventure tonight? I got a pickup right outside with a comfy bed on it.”
“Let me guess. Yours is the one that says ‘Redneck’s Toy’ on the back?”
“How’d you know that?”
I scowled. “Figures.”
“So how ’bout it?”
Fat Fuck was distracting me from the hunk on the stage who was the first decent contestant, both in looks and talent. He was singing “These Boots Were Made for Walking.”
“So how ’bout it, Missy?” he asked again.
“First off, you redneck fuck, your stomach is so big that I probably couldn’t even get to your dick and your friend’s so skinny that I’d probably need a magnifying glass to find his. I’m gonna have to pass.”
Leroy leaned in closer and asked, “What did she say?”
I yelled out at him, “Get a hearing aid, pencil dick!”
I stayed for another half-hour until the contest was over. Mr. Boots Were Made for Walking lost to the first whore, who must have been sucking major dick in the men’s room to win because the bitch straight-up couldn’t sing. I decided to be his consolation prize and followed him outside. He was the one driving the Monte Carlo.
“Excuse me, do you have the time?” I asked him when he was about to unlock his ride.
He lifted his wrist close to his face so he could make out the dial. “It’s two-thirty.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” I climbed up on the hood of his car, spread my legs, and lifted my skirt to give him a good visual. His eyes almost came out of his head. “I want to know if you have the time to tap this ass.”
By three, we were parked side by side in the middle of a field and I was lying on his trunk with his dick inside me getting the much-needed release I craved after Jon’s fucking ass decided to come to Trinity in search of resolutions she would never find.
25
jonquinette
“How did you sleep last night?” Daddy asked me the next morning when I descended the stairs.
“Like a log,” I responded, since I didn’t remember much about it. All I knew was that I woke up and felt like I was still exhausted. Generally that only happened to me when I had slept too well.
He grinned. “Good. The country air at night does wonders.”
“Yes, it does. I kept my windows open.” I noticed the sun beaming through the panes of the front door and added, “Now the country heat during the day is another matter.”
We both laughed.
