Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [71]
“I love the rain,” she began to no one in particular. “Usually, when it’s raining, my favorite thing to do is stay in and fuck.”
The rest of the car went deathly silent. I hit the accelerator, hoping to make town before her next sentence. Unfortunately, lightspeed hadn’t been invented yet.
“Of course, if I had a rich guy,” she continued to the back of my head, which I knew because I felt the scalp there grow suddenly warmer. “We’d stay in and fuck eeeevery night.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“We’d lie by the fire—naked—”
Now everyone shifted uncomfortably—except Ms. Waboombas
of course.
“Can’t you talk about anything else?” Mindie demanded. “No. Then, as we lie there rubbing nakedly against one another
because we were both so goddamn naked, I’d slowly bend over—my sexy, naked ass rising up near his face…”
“WHAT A GLORIOUS AFTERNOON!” shrieked the pastor. “GOD TRULY LOVES US TO GIVE US SUCH A DAY!”
But Ms. Waboombas insisted on being heard this time.
“…I’D TAKE HIS NAKED LITTLE COCK INTO MY MOUTH…”
“IT’S NOT LITTLE,” I corrected, far too loudly.
Mindie slowly turned her head toward me, steam rising off her forehead. Well, maybe not ‘steam’.
No. Wait. Yes, it was actual steam.
“I mean,” I said, beginning to sweat, “what makes you think rich guys have…em…small penises?”
“I think the plural is penii,” Morgan said between chews on something. His brain most likely.
“It’s possible they don’t have little ones,” Ms. Waboombas shrugged. “They got money, so you just sort of assume life has to balance out in some way. But okay. So, then I’d take his MASSIVE COCK INTO MY MOUTH…”
“Oh, dear GOD!” Mindie howled. “Would you PLEASE?”
“Please, what?” Ms. Waboombas asked in mock-innocence.
“Please stop trying to offend us,” Mindie said. “I know your little game, and it won’t work you know. You can’t get to us anymore.”
There was a moment of silence. Mindie scrunched down in her seat and folded her arms, sulkily. Waboombas looked out the side of the car at nothing in particular.
“If I had a rich girlfriend,” Ms. Waboombas said, “I’d take her pasty white tit into my mouth…”
“You think that’s funny?” Mindie demanded, turning around in her seat—seemingly unaware that she had been ‘gotten to’—and leaning threateningly toward Ms. Waboombas. “You think you’re being funny? Better lesbians than you have tried.”
I wondered if she meant Mimsi.
“I am not a lesbian,” Ms. Waboombas said definitively. “I am bi though, and I love to suck on pasty white tits.”
“You’re nothing!” Mindie howled, then got up on her knees—in clear violation of all known seatbelt laws—and leaned down over her chair back to get even more into Ms. Waboombas face. “You’re a worthless little slut who takes money for sex, and will sleep with anything. But you couldn’t even get my hard-up fiancé into bed with you!”
“Your what?” I asked, stunned. “Hard up?”
“And you’re a pissy little prude who needs to get laid,” Waboombas sneered back at Mindie. “I’d rather be me.”
“And I’d rather be me! I HAVE a rich man!”
“For now,” Ms. Waboombas corrected.
“We’ll be married in just a few hours. We’re here to elope, you know.”
“WE’RE WHAT?” I screamed, jerking the wheel so hard as I turned to her I nearly toppled her from the car. She really should be seated and properly belted in.
“We’re what?” I asked again, trying to sound less terrified about the prospect of being married to my fiancée.
“Why do you think I brought the pastor?” she asked, smiling, more at Ms. Waboombas than at me.
“But your small, intimate, thousand-people wedding…”
“Oh, we’ll have that too,” she smiled. “Later.”
Ms. Waboombas put her legs up on the back of my seat and spread them.
“Last chance to get it for free, Corky,” she said. “Take it now, or afterward you gotta pay like everybody else.”
Mindie knocked Waboombas