Chapter 60:
TIFFANY
60. I had landed at a derelict marina, "the cornucopia of delights", to stow my boat while I was away in Atlanta for a pop-up reunion. The marina was old, shabby, and run down, but it had all I needed. Power hookup, water, and cleats to tie to. The owners were birthright Florida Crackers, they defined the word Redneck, and they lived to a different moral code.
I spent the evening getting my Love Boat all hooked up. Dragged out my power cords and corrected my mooring lines. These morons had no clue how to tie a simple cleat hitch. At every cleat I saw that their work was of the "if you can't tie a knot, tie a lot" variety. I fixed them all making certain that my Love Boat was secure.
Once my work was done, I emptied the last of my scotch into a glass filled with ice. As I had nothing more to do right then, I decided to go out for a bite to eat and find a liquor store. I wandered up by the office. It was just a storey and a half bungalow with a small room added to one side, the "office." On the other side of the house was a nice large patio shaded under a huge sprawling oak tree. I heard voices coming from the patio, so I headed there.
I found Samantha, Percy, and a trashy looking bimbo in her mid-30s, all sitting around a large, circular wooden table. The table was a huge wooden spool that once held power cable. The power companies toss them when they're empty. On the table were a half empty unlabeled bottle of clear liquid and a few overfull ashtrays.
As I stepped around the corner onto the patio, Percy looked up. I announced myself. "Excuse me, don't mean to barge in on you. But I need to know where's the nearest food and liquor store within walking distance."
Samantha had her back to me and hadn't seen me approach. She barked out. "Jesus, you scared me, dipshit. Don't sneak up on me like that. Like to scare the shit right outta my asshole. Now, there's a McDonald's a block down on the left and ever’ other motherfucking restaurant you'd ever want ever’ which way from there. As for the liquor store, the closest ABC store is 'bout a mile off yonder" waving her arm around wildly in the air.
"And wha' the fuck do you want with a goddamn liquor store anyway? We got all the fuckin' moonshine you'll ever need right here." She grabbed the unlabeled bottle and thrust it my way. "Want some?"
"Thanks, Samantha, but I'll pass. Kinda got my taste buds tuned to scotch for now. Guess I'll call a cab. Thanks for the help."
Samantha raised the bottle to her lips and gulped down about half the remaining contents. She swiped her forearm across her lips then screeched out "A fuckin' cab? Are you nuts, asshole? Goddamn Percy will drive you there. Holy shit! You got rat turds for brains or what."
She trailed off mumbling "Dumb motherfucker ..." and "Shit for brains ..." as Percy finally spoke. "I ain't drivin' nobody nowhere. I'm too drunk. Send Tiffany. She ain't had enough hooch to light a candle."
Tiffany put on the sweetest face, smiling up at me with her crooked teeth, one missing. "Need a ride to the booze store, huh? Happy to oblige." Before I could protest, she had raised up from her chair, grabbed her purse, and was workin' that ass, half way to the car. She twirled around thrusting out her tits, waving me in. "Come on, Mr. Fancy pants. What’re you waitin' for?"
Reluctantly, I climbed into the shotgun seat. Tiffany was a tramp, no two ways about it. Scraggly bleached blonde hair, dark roots showing, gobs of eye makeup, false eyelashes and bright red lipstick, applied to make her lips and mouth look bigger than they were. Of course, her body was smoking hot, and she had on the bare minimum of clothes.
She was chewing gum with her mouth open, making smacking noises. "Where 'ya from, mister? Plannin' on stayin' awhile? I could git used to havin' you around. Samantha tells me you're hung good. Maybe you'll show me when we git back. Ya know, kinda like a 'thank you' for driving you around and shit."
"Yeah, maybe. We'll see. I'm kinda tired tonight, long day on the water and everything. I sorta planned on grabbing a quick bite and returning to my boat."
Tiffany kept glancing over at me, chewing and smacking her gum, while I tried to figure out why I am so repelled by, yet attracted to tramps. I got as far as repelled by because I'm sapiosexual. Tramps suffer from a different arousal disorder. Intellect is not usually their strong suit. I was just starting to work on why they attract me when we pulled into the parking lot.
Tiffany parked around the side of the liquor store, at the back edge of the parking lot, far away from the entrance. I went in and made my purchases. When I got back to the car, I opened the rear door to put my bags in. To my surprise, Tiffany was lying down in the back seat, her shorts and undies pulled down around one ankle and her legs spread wide open.
"I couldn't wait till we got back. I want my payment now. Fuck me now or you'll walk home."
"Holy shit, Tiffany! Right here in the parking lot? What if the cops bust us?"
"Shut your trap door, mister. I own all the local cops. Been fuckin' and suckin' 'em for years. Only trouble your gonna have is if ya don't drop them britches and come git some of this 'already broke in' pussy. Or did ya wanna walk home?"
Tiffany was a sight, a hot mess lying in the back seat, legs spread. Her ratty bleached hair, all disheveled. It was tangled together and the stripe of her dark roots showing made her look like she had a Mohawk haircut. She had kept her top on but pulled it up, so her tits were exposed. She had one hand wrenching the hell out of her nipple, twisting, tugging, and pulling at it.
In contrast to the rest of her appearance, her spread legs revealed a rather inviting cunt. Her entire fuckbox was very dark skinned even around her asshole. A modicum of dark brown pubic hair framed some large outer lips. Her inner lips were generous, and she had her hand busy between them rubbing circles around her clit and disappearing, two at a time, up her snatch.
She was a classic, 35 yr old southern whore fuck. A little tight at first. Once her pussy swelled up inside, the soft tissues of her vagina surrounded my cock and her muscles relaxed allowing my girth entry. As I started stroking, she said in a very nonchalant, detached manner ... almost like an announcer giving a play-by-play ... "yeah, Samantha was right. You gotta nice cock, mister. Go nuts now. Have sum fun." Her pussy opened more, adopting that true slut status, inviting me to take full advantage.
I fucked her hard, knowing full well that she was just lying there, not involved, only a nice cunt to be fucked by anyone, anytime, anywhere. Initially, I felt awkward, like what's the point if she's not getting any pleasure? Then my inner skunk took over.
I slammed into her cunt mercilessly, over, and over. The car was rocking side-to-side with each pelvic thrust. Tiffany lay there, her body being jerked around by my intense pounding. She had her arms over her head holding herself away from smashing into the inside of the car. Her head was turned to the side, but I could see her expressionless face, her blank stare, as I railed her sloppy cunt.
"Ok ... ok ... you got me bitch ... here it comes ... I'm gonna fill you up, you trashy cum bucket." After I relieved my nuts in her, she looked at me, a smile, and a twinkle in her eye. She held my face between her hands and gave me a pat on the cheek. "Finally! Good boy."
