the drunken freak
home p2


The Battle for the Valley of Mars | another | One To Write Home About | a couple of quick ones | buk was right | home p2 | BFM p2

"There's some beer in the fridge if ya' want" She says kicking her shoes off as she walks in the door. I go get one and offer her one but she tells me no thanks and as I make my way back into the front room of her little appartment I barely supress a shout of suprise. The old girl had stripped down to her none too healthy birthday suit. Oh shit, I think to myself, I think I'd spend most of my time on the road and with strippers and truckstop whores too if I had to come home to that every night.

In a slight daze I sit down next to her on the sofa."mmmm. I'll bet you can give me what I need." she purrs in that same sick sounding voice as she leans over and unbuttons my pants. What cornball shit! She probably keeps herself company with cheap porn and harlequin novels, but I'm game, I lay back and enjoy.

she gave it a valiant effort slurping away noisily maybe too good. Within ten miniutes it's all over. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT YOU LIMP DICK SONOFAWHORE!" She roars and I mean Roars! Spitefully she spits my d.n.a. into my face and punches the object of her scorn. HARD! And I go rolling aaround and howling in pure agony.

Before I could get my bearings back she rushed up kicking with both feet and cussing fit to make the most hardened barfly or sailor blush. I rolled out the door and lay there as she slammed it shut thunderously. After years of moaning and cursing myself for tangling with such a crazy bitch I got up onto my feet and dragged myself home thinking that I had learned a lesson...I'll forget it again soon enough.