Fucky Chucky's was a new, gourmet burger joint in the San Joking River Valley, and I got hired there, along with a whole lot of pretty girls and pimply faced dudes.
During our training, I saw this one chick who had wavy, shiny black hair and crystal blue eyes. Striking, and I don't mean in a labor union sort of way.
I was in no mood to get all fucked up from a chick again. I'd had enough, and I wanted to get the fuck out of Fuckno, Calinotformeanymore. Problem was, I was a dirt poor teenage Injun, and I needed to earn some escape cash.
But as I've told you before, your penis will betray you. It will stand up proudly to those around you, like thrusting out a thick middle finger, telling everyone: "Hey There! I'm proud, I'm strong, and I will take what I want."
Now get yourself all shitiated, how ever you go about it my friend, as we begin a new chapter of the Punkology Series.
Crank the piss out of this tune while you do so.
Cracker. Teen angst. What the world needs now is another shot of whiskey.
THE SWALLOWER
The uniforms were unique. We could wear blue jeans, but the tops were red, long-armed, tight-fitting shirts with polo shirt collars. This afforded a view of the bellies of those who were not blessed with fast metabolisms, as well as the perky roundness on the high points of those who were.
She wore her shirt proudly. According to the name tag pinned above her left breast, her name was Essy Colinga. I wondered what Essy was short for. I'd have to ask her.
Now, there were other ladies there who were quite attractive as well, all in various body shapes and with different colored hair types. It was peculiar to me that not many guys were focusing on this girl. No, they seemed to be preoccupied with the blond chicks.
That fact had nothing to do with the sudden middle finger from the only member of my club.
He had a mind of his own, you know.
And he would not be thwarted.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
"Hi, how are you? Good? Me, too. My name is Will. These folks seem to know what they are doing, huh?"
"I know your name is Will by your name tag."
"Uh, I just wanted to introduce myself properly. No harm meant."
"You have an accent. New Hampshire?"
"Wow. Do you know how long it's been since I heard anyone not tell me I sound like some Britland dude?"
"You've been hanging around the wrong people."
I was in. Middle Finger was happy. Damn.
++++++++++++++++++++++
I must tell you that I was simply making small talk, and of course you know that I am lying to you.
Of course, it must be said that I was in no way interested in opening up myself to more emotional disaster there at that time, and that didn't happen,
...to me, at least.
But Essy appeared to be intelligent, although guarded, and she sure had caught my attention. I figured I could play it safe and not get too involved. She filled her jeans in the right ways, and her shirt in the best. With a lot of heart, so to speak.
We trained together, and I was a busboy, while she was a cashier. All of the cashiers were these pretty young things who had made it past the initial screening, because these were the first people you would meet once you came inside.
You put your best face forward.
She would graduate to Barmaid quite quickly, for two reasons, which are these:
1. Essy was good with people, and that is what matters most in the food service world, on the selling side.
2. She was 23 years old, and she knew how to mix drinks, from her previous employment. They would train her, but previous experience trumps simply being striking.
Man, I figured if I could tap that lovely cask, I'd be able to avoid dealing with old drunks hanging around the corner lot convenience stores. Sweet vulva nectar would pour freely.
Yeah, I was kinda cocky.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The training was interesting, but also took way too long. I knew that I was earning $5.00 an hour and all, which was pretty good back then, but I wanted time to speed up, so I could amass a small pile of cash money in order to get the fuck out.
Yet, a lovely distraction will always help the time pass. Just don't get too distracted. Which of course, would happen. She had a boyfriend you see, and he would get hired as a bartender shortly thereafter, from her recommendation.
You can see where this is heading, can't you.
But there was this: This new shituation afforded me a sort of mental escape from my own sorry state of affairs. It was the second job I ever held, but it was the first one I would look forward to going to.
When you are feeling like shit on the inside, there is nothing like the regularity of employment to give you structure, even if it is pretty mindless.
Perhaps, mindless is what you need?
You can try to function. You can try to live again.
Soundgarden. The Day I Tried To Live. One more time around may do it.
So I finally asked her what Essy was short for. I couldn't even begin to guess. If I had, I would have been far off. For crying out loud, she had the same name as the mother-in-law from that old show "Bewitched."
Esmeralda.
Yup.
Esmeralda.
Wow. Poor thing. Essy was better. It was easy.
And so was she.
But,
Essy was not messy.
...A FEW WEEKS LATER...
It began with a kiss, and it ended with an explosion.
She led me into her apartment with a rack of Stella in one hand, and a lit cigarette in her mouth. I came in her place with only my socks on.
I kid you.
She was treating me like royalty, which was pretty cool. I was her quest of honor. It was the rainy season, and the sky began to burn with the reds and oranges of clouds caught afire overhead with the setting Sun peeking beneath them at us.
Staring.
Accusing.
The wet tar leftover from the previous rain squall now glowed like the gold bricks laid in the streets of Heaven, and I was a devil of sorts. But I was also a bit of the tempted, and also the damned.
I closed the door behind us, and she directed me to the couch.
Director.
We kissed. She had those sort of big full lips that were not like the fleshy, soft ones of Lorelei, which were a delight in themselves, or had been, that was.
Essy's lips were big and quite firm, as I was, myself, below.
She got up, opened a beer, and sat back down next to me.
I explored her body as we made out, and it felt good in my hands. I could not take my hands off her. Her breath became short and heavy through her little nose, as she sucked my tongue and undid my belt. She was not messing around.
And then, she stopped and chugged a mouthful of ice cold Stella,
and then she went down.
Holy shit.
Yup.
Holy Shit.
Her ice cold mouth gave me a new experience. I had never felt such a thing. Ice Hard. Swirling, flicking, effervescent, sucking,
are adjectives you simply must learn about.
It was in a few moments when I told her that she should back away, but she shook her head, mouth full of me. I didn't understand, until I did.
I exploded. She took it all in, and she did not stop.
In a few moments,
It happened again.
And then it was too much. I exploded in my own mind as well, but nothing got anywhere. I was all shaking and trembly, writhing in confusion and mindlessness.
She was still, and she was stealthy.
I would later find out why.
She wanted to leave no mark, trace, or drop of my visit.
But that was not all.
She truly enjoyed---
---the power
---the control
and even
---the flavor.
Gawddamn son.
I was in heaven. I was mindless. It was a welcome escape.
LINKS
Dr Dre video crashes a really expensive Ferrari 360 Modena. Damn, son.
Most Famous Dog on Facebook.
If you write, and you don’t have TDC to post your shit, here’s this. Kinda cool, daily.
Mother Nature. Cool images of hotness from a fun site.
Funny site, Humor Touch. Start you off with Pro Douchebag comic.
For weaveweld. Superlong exposure pics. Not meant for trenchcoats dude…
Hehe (jk)
This pic is cool, interesting monkey with a hand full. Cool site.
NSFW Open Origins.
Badass right hand men behind some of history’s bad ass men.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
OK, one more for ya.
Henry the VIII explained.
.
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