Tuesday, June 2, 2009



You know you may possibly have an addiction to getting dick stuffed in you when you’re bein’ banged right next to a fucking trash dumpster with an unstuffed, stained, old broken green couch strewn out in pieces in front of it. I consider it more like breathing…. living… shamelessly enjoying the one true carnal pleasure this shit called Earth has to offer.

If skuzzy, trashy (see what I did there) bangin’ is a crime, then lock me up cause I’m fucking guilty as all hell and a chronic repeat offender. I’d say this dumpster hump is the low point, but I’m pretty sure there were times I was lower and just too damn drunk to remember. God bless alcohol, it usually always gets you into these situations and then out of the kindness of its heart ensures that you remember none of it. I’m also not at all certain that I won’t go lower. Dumpster just doesn’t feel like my rock bottom. Seeing as this latest incident, I have no explanation, no excuse; I was sober as a damn judge… just fucking hornier than a 13 year-old who just found his dad’s porn collection. There is no stopping the fury of the clit when she is pulsating. A sacrifice must be made to her no matter the circumstances. Dick must be inserted and milked. This is why I found myself humping homeless-style in the back lot of a tire store.

Last week, I left work early for a dentist appointment. I get giddier than Bill Murray in “Little Shop of Horrors” when I go to the dentist, not because I like the smell of tooth decay or the feeling of being drilled (in this capacity that is) but because my dentist is a sexy fucking hunk of man meat. He looks just like a dude I’ve seen belly button dry-humping on Skinamax. I’ve resolved that this is how he paid his way through dental school. I just wish they’d actually throw you a cock shot once in a while, so I’d know what I’m dealing with here. It’d probably never be as glorious as I’ve already dreamed it is. When I’m waiting in the chair, I constantly fantasize about our own Skinamax episode. I lean back, close my eyes and he sticks his hard, pink man drill in my mouth. Then it’s nothing but *Bow Chicka Bow Wow,* baby. Now that’s the kind of check up I’m talkin’ about. I wouldn’t miss a one… probably double my appointments. People would be required to wear protective shades when I smiled. On top of my dentist being hotter than the surface of the sun, he’s married (yawn) but his office is down the street from my equally-sexy-in-a-different-way Mechanic (#24), who is single, who I’ve recycled for years, and who is one of my preferred whores/victims.

I passed Mechanic’s shop on the way to my appointment and saw him outside, tinkering underneath the hood of an old school Caddy while he dragged on a clove. I instantly hatched a plan to destroy him. After the dentist sent me off with a massive case of blue labs (as in Labium Majoris) I couldn’t wait to suck that ashtray-flavored tongue right out of his mouth. Why not instantly fuck up those freshly cleaned pearly whites with some cigarette-infused tonguing followed by a salty rinse? I don’t smoke, it’s pretty rat ass, but it doesn’t mean I won’t fuck someone who does. Besides I’m in black out mode. Like Lenny-pet-the-rabbits, I want to pet the purdy penis. I’ve got my mind on the dick and the dick on my mind. When I reach this point, I’ll take it any fucking way I can get it and get it good.

Hence, dirty bird.


After my appointment, and the cunt teasing eye-candy, I had the Jetta on two wheels. I pull in hot to Mechanic’s shop. I scared one of the customers. He comes up to my driver side windshield and I stick my finger, which was just in my gushing pussy, into his mouth. My pants are undone and I’m breathing like the fucking Gatekeeper in “Ghostbusters.” I’m a wild fucking fuck monster and about to hurt somebody… badly. He barks something at his brother in Russian and jumps in the car. I peel out like I’m behind the wheel of K.I.T.T. We start mauling each other as I’m driving. I only manage to drive about five businesses down the road. Just because Mechanic’s a mechanic doesn’t mean my insurance gives a shit. I turn the wheel hard, grab some curb and the car goes flying into the back lot of a tire shop which, thankfully, is closed and off the main street.

The car comes to a screeching halt in the far end of the lot, next to the dumpster, rank broken couch and a pile of old used tires. We were too preoccupied to bother with the romantic scenery. We are violently making out. I tear his shirt off and rip his wifebeater down the middle Hulk Hogan style – I’ve reinvented his signature move to work with my lifestyle. Hulkamaniacs rule! I have his belt off and pants down in roughly 2.4 seconds. I start sucking like I’m working a blowjob booth at the county fair. Except instead of a teddy bear I win a throbbing cock ready for insertion and penetration. I’m here to tell you, I won, may have been no competition but I won. I’m workin’ the dick like a magician; I’m the love child of Hoover and Houdini. Suck, disappear, suck, suck, disappear… then rinse and repeat. Gag tears are streaming, the window is fogging. He’s about to blow my head off with his man chowder and since that shit has to service the Queen herself it can not deflate.

It’s my turn. Since I don’t have a dick, getting oral pleasure in a compact car is some tricky ass shit. The only saving grace would be the leather seats, which makes clean-up easy and efficient. It’s literally my favorite feature… okay, maybe besides the seat warmers. When it comes to getting a cock full, I become a fucking Cirque du Soleil acrobat. I can do poses that would shock and amaze my yoga teacher seeing as I can’t even get a quarter of the way there in class. Motivation is half the battle and when it comes to some rock hard dick, I can fucking move mountains and lick up oil spills. So there I am, feet behind my ears, getting eaten like Thanksgiving dinner. He’s practically in the back seat, leaning over me in one of the most awkward ways. It’s like a fucked up one way 69. Thank God the windows were completely fogged up since its 5:30pm and still very much daylight. There are houses, blocked by trees, right behind the shop. Someone may possibly be getting a very severe anatomy lesson, but fuck it, I’m getting my o-face on and they need to learn sometime. After the first pussy tremor and partial leakage I’m ready to get filled up and stretched out. One problem, the fucking car was obviously not designed to get yo freak on!!! Damn V-dub. My ass has been out of high school too long and I have no idea how I used to successfully fuck in such cramped quarters.

He tries to maneuver himself in front of me in the passenger seat and we are so close together all he can do is stick his dick in but there isn’t any room for traction, the old in-out, some sweet pump ‘n hump action. The anticipation of getting fucked when a huge, hard dick is inches from your dripping pussy is comparable to being stranded in the desert without water for seven days and stumbling upon a crisp, cool looking water fountain. You HAVE TO HAVE THAT SHIT… NOW! Since the car is not working for a vagine beating session I have to improvise… which basically means getting out of the car to get fucked against the wall.

We do this, using the dumpster to block the view into the houses. And the stacked used tires to block the view from anyone who may also be screeching into the parking lot to fuck. Other than that, no one is around. We go at it makeup sex-style although neither of us was ever mad at each other. Love that shit. I instantly get a pretty mean case of concrete burn on my back which made for a sexy combo of pain and pleasure. When my fucking vagina is being hammered all the other senses shut down, so I couldn’t smell what had to be the stench of rotting trash around us. I could no longer even see the couch or the dumpster itself. To me, I might as well have been getting railed on silk sheets while an 18-piece orchestra serenaded us. I start convulsing into my orgasm seizures and he let’s out the typical I-just-blew-my-man-wad groan. We stand there panting for a bit, laughing about how ridiculously nasty and high school we are acting when we hear some squeaky car brakes come to a halt.


Through the stacks of tires we see that the 5-0, bacon bits, po po, one-time, piggies have pulled up across the lot from my car. Yay. Had they rolled up like literally two feet closer they would have seen our heads peeking over the top of the dumpster. We duck down and use the tires as our fortress. I’m really hoping I can now add public indecency to my rap sheet. It’s like collecting different color achievement stars in the third grade all over again but now its illegal charges I’m rackin’ up. Mrs. Pardon would be so proud. Our clothes are still in the car. I’m only wearing platforms and my bra as a necklace. He’s in boxers. Luckily we had shut both car doors and it’s parked normally. It’s just the only damn car in the lot and the shop is closed. The coppers are about 20ft. away from where we are holding each other naked behind the tires and dumpster. I can see its two male cops and they are eerily still in the car just starring straight ahead and not talking. Can they see us? Do they not want to see us naked as much as we don’t want them to see us naked? Ten minutes go by and our stand off is still under way. This is weird… and creepy… and taking FOREVER. Ten minutes in an awkward position like that might as well have been a fucking hour… or an entire day.

The tires are completely blocking us, I’m sure of it. I can only see through the tiniest wee little cracks between them and we have literally not moved a fucking muscle. I have a killer charlie horse under my knee, which I often get after orgasm and it’s now being severely agitated by freezing in a squatting position for this amount of time. Not being able to walk around and stretch is a mothafuckin’ biatch. It's involuntarily, borderline obnoxiously shaking causing my platform to continuely tap. Mechanic has to hold my leg down to get it the fucknig thing off. They have us right where they want us, fuckers. Why are these aholes just sitting there? They don’t even get out to investigate? Some fucking mom in those houses must have called the fuzz on us... can't really say that I blame her, I may myself one day fall victim to becoming a no fun having, dried up vagina owning, husband-fucking-the-secretary-man-hating-but-I stay-for-my-kids-type-of-woman. I can't judge. Although, I think I'd be more the type to look fondly on two young whippersnappers having a little reckless fun, and if the kids aren't home the type that gets off while I watch.

And still waiting, c'mon already bitches, make your move. Is this some type of cop psychological torture? They’ve got to be running my plates, which are clean… in this state at least. Mechanic’s phone starts to blow up in the car. It stops and then rings all over again… non-stop. He’s starting to worry because he knows it’s his shop probably wondering where the fuck the owner went. I'm a little more worried about the damn cops sitting 20ft. away that may finally get off their lazy ass to check out the constant ringing and we have to come out from behind the dumpster - me butt ass naked - most likely with hands up, get dressed in front of them and then be subjected to a cot and a hot for the night. I can see the condom wrapper, which had fallen out of the car on the ground next to the driver side door, slowly inching away due to the breeze. Why won’t these porkers do something? I’m literally freezing my tits off since we are no longer banging which was, at the time, keeping me warm. Now the sweat on the back of my neck may kill me by way of hypothermia. The trash also fucking reeks.

Just as my leg is about to give out and the ten minutes of silent immobility is about to drive me insane in the fucking membrane the siren comes to life and annoyingly wails as they peel out of the parking lot at rocket speed. This is Torrance, there is never a reason for this Charles Bronson type of behavior. They'll probably be the fifth unit to come barreling up on the crime scene of three 5th graders skateboarding in a parking lot they're not supposed to be in.

I refuse to move for a good two minutes, partially because my leg is now completely paralyzed - by the way nothing sexier than being naked in this type of crouched over position - and because it takes that long for the notion that nothing happened to actually sink in. Seriously? No idea how I dodged that one since I have negative amounts of luck with the law but I couldn’t be happier that I did. There’s no way they saw us because if they had I know we would have gotten rolled. I guess smart people would take this as a serious warning but I’m pretty sure my fuckcapades will continue operating as normal, making me my own worst enemy. Not bad as far as enemies go if you ask me… at least she’s hot and likes to have fun.

I am really glad I got to dodge the sweet scenario that would most definitely have taken place at work. “Hey girl, why didn’t you show up for work yesterday?” “Oh you know, the usual, I got caught fucking my mechanic after my dentist appointment behind a trash dumpster and got hauled in.” Hey, fuck it, if these are the risks a bitch has got to take for some dick action then so be it. I didn’t make the rules I just play the game.

The moral of THIS story: Fucking by a dumpster might not be your thing, I can dig it, but I’m gonna get mine while I can because some day when I can hackie sack my National Geographic titties on my knees and no one wants my shit I’ll regret not acting when I had the chance. When opportunity knocks, (as Mark Walberg so eloquently put it in “Fear”) open the fucking door!


Easy Lover