Sunday Drivers

Oh how I love Sunday mornings. It is my day to put life into perspective, to ponder upon the days past and the one’s approaching. It is sort of my “Refresh” button on the browser of my life. I make it a point on Sundays to get up early and go out for a drive. There is nothing better. All of the idiots are off of the roads, in church somewhere repenting to their God and emptying their pockets in hopes of being saved. Gathering around singing and conversing, and patting one another on the back at how much better off they are compared to me and my ways. I have to laugh, these are the same husbands and fathers I see slipping dollar bills into the G String of strippers, the same Mothers and Wives that spread gossip and evil about the others around them, the same women who throw and attend the Sex Toy parties. The same children, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters that surf Internet porn instead of doing homework, bully the weaker kids, break the hearts of their peers, and sleep with their teachers and plot to blow shit up.

I usually drive along the river, head out through the country then circle around in time to stop at a greasy diner from some coffee and a meal. Today while stopped at a railroad crossing, I noticed all of the graffiti painted on the rail cars as they past. I wondered what in the hell it all meant. Where they had been, where they were going and who the hell was Chewie? I saw several cars loaded with brand new automobiles heading to a dealer near you, somewhere in this great nation. I wondered who would buying these vehicles and in what state. As I pulled into the diner lot and parked, I saw a homeless guy just waking up to the sun in his eyes. I entered the diner and greeted and smiled at the few other sinners enjoying their meals. Ah, life is grand.

There is nothing like a Sunday.

Last night was an overall pretty good time. I had my doubts early on as I agreed to play wingman for Gary or “Take one for team”. Gary is a decent friend and I know deep down he means well and wouldn’t put me in a bad situation, but I also know Gary has a better shot of getting sex from a crack whore then the chick he was meeting last night. Gary swore that it wasn’t a double date as he was just meeting this girl and her friend at the local “Meat market” or dance club. Knowing Gary all to well and his taste or “lack of” in chicks I was going to get stuck entertaining some chick who would be needy, fat, ugly, psycho, an addict, crazy or all of the above. Gary is a good guy, he just doesn’t get laid much therefore he tends to go after anything that stands upright. What the hell, Gary was my friend, I had nothing better to do and maybe just maybe I would be wrong and get some strange.

We arrived and as I expected the walls were vibrating from the booming inside. The music was loud as usual, the dance floor was packed as usual, all the hootchies were out as usual and I was regretting this already, as usual. Gary spotted his woman in the sea of people, and as we approached her I could tell how. I immediately had the desire to throw some peanuts at this chick as she reminded me of “Snufalufagus” in a mini skirt. She wrapped her pudgy arms around Gary’s neck as if they were long lost friends all the while she was thinking that there was no way in hell he was getting any. I could see it on her face. Hell, I would bet that her nose was bigger than Gary’s dick. Gary turned and introduced me, “OK, the moment of truth”, I thought. “Just smile, be friendly and keep making excuses to be somewhere else”. She shook my hand and I said hello. It was one of those limp clammy sorts of chick shakes.
Her eyes gazed upon me like she was going to eat me. Hell, I had no firgging peanuts. Never taking her eyes off of me she reaches back for her friend, my assignment for the evening. “Hello, I am Andi” her friend said. Boy did I call this one wrong. Andi was HOT. Long strawberry blonde hair hanging down past her ass, tight jeans and a little belly shirt with no bra. I could tell as her tiny little tits protruded proudly. Andi was tall, slender and a big relief from the “Broadzilla” I had expected.
The evening was going great. We were all packed into this little corner around a small table. It was hard to converse due to the music, but it seemed that Andi was digging me as much as I was digging her. Actually the whole time I was picturing her screaming my name as I was doing her propped up on the kitchen counter. I just kept smiling and shaking my head in agreement as if I knew what in the hell she was saying. It didn’t matter. I could tell that Andi was a little on edge, jumpy maybe? It could have just been me over analyzing as I do. But something didn’t seem just right about her. But for what I had in mind, she would be just fine. Andi motioned to my as if to say, “Lets dance”. It wasn’t my kind of place, or my kind of crowd and music, but I followed her as she strutted to the dance floor, my eyes never leaving her ass. I could get out there and shake my ass, get my groove on a bit. That was the least I could do for her. We danced to the remix of the remixes, of the recycled crap you hear on the radio. That song “S.O.S.” was playing, the one that sampled and mixed in the “Tainted Love” music. I watched her as she shook her hips and spun around so I could see her junk. Out of no where she started twitching and shit.

She was yelling or screaming something, I couldn’t be sure. Then as if nothing she was back into the groove, the song, and the moment. We were out there for a bit. Songs they play in these clubs last at least fifteen-minutes or more per song. She smiled at me then began jerking about once again. She turned and again began screaming and yelling. People were looking at us and I just smiled as if she was really getting into it. She began kicking, stomping and yelling even more and louder. I was starting to wonder what the hell she was on. She turned and looked at me with an embarrassed sort of look. I almost thought that I saw a tear. She bolted past me and disappeared into the sea of people. What the hell just happened?

I found out today that Gary didn’t get his dick wet. Well at least not with another mammal. I asked him what was the deal with Snufalufagus’s friend. Gary was like, “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you”. Gary failed to mention to me that the lovely beautiful Andi had “tourette’s syndrome”. “You’re an ass” I said and hung up on him. That explains a lot. I feel bad for her. She probably thinks I was freaked out. I should have run after her. I didn’t know. She could have been on the rag or something. I called Gary back and told him he better get ahold of her and give her my number. Needless to say, my imagination has been running wild all day thinking about all the new and kinky things possible. I never nailed a chick with tourette’s but they say there is a first time for everything.

I am heading out on the road most of next week. I will do my best to post from the road. If not please refer to one of the links to the left. There is something for everyone over there. I will be back in time for HNT.