2003-12-30 - 6:55 p.m.

She leaned back against the doorpost of the silver Airstream trailer and tipped back a bottle of Bud, long muscles of her scrawny neck working as she chugged. Vicki tossed the empty brown bottle onto the trampled grass at her feet as she ran a dirty hand through her choppy mouse-brown hair. It had been a long night here are the Fantasyland Carnival on the edge of this hick Texas town, a long, steamy, hot night and Vicki felt restless, at loose ends.

Spitting, she narrowly missing a rat combing through the trash near the front tire of her home. Vicki unconcernedly scratched her twat through her cut-off jean shorts, that guy in Amarillo must have given her the crabs again she thought as she watched the thinning crowd leaving the carnival. Movement off to her right suddenly caught her attention, riveting her green eyes, eyes ringed with smeared mascara and eyeliner. A man was bent over a battered old 55 gallon oil drum pressed into service as a trash barrel, bent over struggling not to puke.

His ass was wide and he was dressed like millions of other boring, well-scrub rubes, plain pants, button-up shirt and light jacket in boring safe colors. Vicki noticed he was fair, with the type of pink skin that would color up nicely under a slap, a ring of light blonde hair circling a wide bald head graced with features not interesting enough to be described as ugly, not beautiful enough to be proclaimed more than plain, a stupid bovine of a man. Just what she needed for a night’s amusement, the finders fee from Willie on this one would be the highest yet!

Rusty nearly sobbed as he stumbled away from the trash barrel, his mind awhirl like the spinning Tiltowhirl ride across the carnival midway, he could still see the lights dancing wildly in his mind even with his eyes shut. What a fucked up last couple of days he had experienced. First the great love of his life, the one that had got away, Ellen Richmond, had breezed back into town like a hurricane of love. Foolishly he’d made a play for her right away, only to be shot down. Another ex-girl friend telling him she’s switched sides, gone lesbian. At this rate he had to be the oldest virgin in town, destined to die a bitter and sexually frustrated old man. The only variety in his sex life was when he switched his right hand for his left.

Tonight had been the hardest yet, sitting in the ferris wheel next to Ellen, smelling her invocative and heady perfume, wanting desperately to jump her bones but not daring. After they’d gotten off the ride Ellen had kissed him on the cheek, thanked him for being such a good friend and slipped off into the night. He couldn’t get her blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes out of his mind, time had only made her more attractive and a dull ache started in his loins as tears sprung to his light blue eyes. He’d found the nearest stand selling booze and started guzzling down the cheap wine, gallons of Boone’s Farm Strawberry wine, enough to drown in. Then he’d moved on to Purple Jesuses he’d confiscated from some of his high school students, ending up pretty smashed for one of the few times in his life.

Then she appeared, his angel, his savoir, his Ellen, stepping gracefully through a cloud grease smoke pouring from the Corn Dog vendors booth like Venus de Milo emerging from the sea. The crazy, flashing lights from the Shooting Gallery shone through her short blonde hair and he moaned her name as he staggered towards her.

“Easier then shootin’ fish ina barrel,” Vicki giggled as the drunken man fell into his knees in front of her, sobbing incoherently. She took another dig at her crotch again as she knelt next to the weeping wreck of quivering pink flesh. Vicki tugged on one meaty arm as she mumbled, “come on stud...we’re about to Par-Tay!”

He couldn’t believe it! Ellen pressed up against him as she guided him through the confusing blur of lights and motion, whispering in his ear, telling him she loved him, she wanted him. Looked like tonight was his lucky night, his lonely horny existence was about to end. Rusty Carnouk smiled and followed her sweet promises, feeling a tiltowhirl of love starting in his heart.

She pushed open a flap at the back of a big ragged canvas tent squatted on the edge of the carnival and pulled Rusty in behind her. He blinked hard, unaccustomed to the sudden bright lights blazing overhead. Rusty paused, confusion making his plain features coarse and heavy. Staring eyes, he could feel them, feel them even as drunk as he was. But before he could make sense of what was happening, Rusty felt soft hands, Ellen’s hands, slowly undressing him, unzipping his nylon windbreaker with the school logo on it before those same small hands slipped down to unfasten his banlon slacks.

The crowd in the tent roared it’s approval as Vicki stripped down his polyester slacks to reveal stained too-tight BVD’s and white socks, stocky legs and plump thighs. “I’ve never seen whiter flesh,” she thought with a shudder. Willie watched from the edge of the makeshift stage, nodding his approval at Vicki’s latest find for his show. After the carnival shut down in these one-horse towns the real action was here, in the carnies tents behind the rides. Without any advertisement the more perverted locals somehow knew to show up with crisp 20’s in their pockets after the midway shut down.

Rusty shuddered as he felt the cool crisp air of night on his naked flesh and heard the sounds of a crowd gathering. “Something is very wrong here?” he whispered as someone shoved him to his knees. It was then that he felt a hot breath coming up behind him and he screamed, seeking to scramble away from whatever was right behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks as he heard Ellen’s sweet voice in his ear and felt a feather soft hand grasp his cock, lightly stroking it. He moaned, feeling strangely explosive as something wet nudged him from behind

A shout of surprise and delighted shock rippled through the assembled throng of people as they watched the high school teacher take it up the ass from the prize winning hog from the agricultural exhibit at the county fair.

 

 

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hanging out with high school freshmen is not my idea of a romantic date. - 2004-02-13
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