Friday, August 10, 2007

In The Pines

By nutcracker sweet

Your head entertains the thought that you have traveled back in time and you are a lone Tequesta in this vast wasteland. The scent of pine wafting on the cool night breeze. A gentle breeze that also keeps away the Florida State "birds", mosquitoes the size of your fist. A clear, starry sky o'erhead. No lights, no phone, no television, no bosses, no alarm clocks, no deadlines, none of the frenetic activity of our driven society. It's just you amid the rustic beauty of the pinelands of central Florida.

You burp; break wind, and sigh, smacking your lips, savoring your simple repast as you sop up the last of the Dinty Moore stew with some Saltines. You toss the fire-blackened can into the brush, and crawl to your grimy cooler to retrieve a frosty bottle of Zima. Unscrewing it, tossing the cap after the stew can, you wash down that delicious meal with a heady draught of the malt liquor. You sit back on your haunches to poke the fire with a branch as you scratch your nuts. Ah, this is truly a vacation to recharge your battered psyche and assuage your tortured soul!

"What?" you mutter aloud to the night, startled by your own eloquence as you wax poetically. You shake your head, bemused, and up end the Zima bottle, draining it. You hurl the bottle out of the circle of the fire's light and listen to it shatter in the dark night. You grab another bottle of this elixir of the gods as you settle back. Staring into the flames, your thoughts turn lightly to lust as you remember that young woman you met at the grocery store earlier today.

You chuckle as you recall the look on her face as you elbowed her out of your way so that you could get to the register first. You heard her cursing you under her breath, as you unloaded your full shopping cart onto the conveyor. But hey, "Fuck her" and her one little six pack of Pabst and her latest issue of "Guns 'n' Bluegrass"! You're an important guy from a big city and these cretinous local inbreeds can just wait on you! She was probably only heading back to her illegitimate brood at the trailer park anyway. Hm? Well maybe not that young beauty. If she had foaled then her tight body certainly belied that fact.

"Howdy!" a sweet, Southern drawl got your attention when this local 'cum-dumpster' caught up with you in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly. Oh shit, you thought, she wants to make a scene. Oh well, the best defense is offense.

You turn on her. "Listen, Ellie Mae, I don't have the time nor the inclination to deal with your bullshit! My time is a lot more valuable than yours so just get over it!" Gotchya! “Drew first blood!” you think as she stepped back, her eyes widening. It is only then that you notice just how blue her eyes are, like the azure sky over the Gulf. A quick once over and you realize that she is no threat. An itty, bitty, wisp of a woman with an unkempt mane of jet-black hair, standing there timidly clutching her grocery bag of vile swill and mindless reading material. If indeed she even knows how to read. You snort contemptuously.

"Oh, well, I am sorry to bother ye then," she drawls in a way that you are starting to find curiously arousing, "it's just that I know ye ain't from around here, and I wanted to show ye a little Southern hospitality."

Wow! Did she really wink and lick her lips when she said that? It is then that you realize she is kind of cute, and younger than you'd thought, too. Without the hard lines that the rough rural life seems to etch into the face of country women.

"What did you have in mind?" you ask as you realize that she is so small that you could eat apples off of the top of her head, and upon further appreciation of her lithe body you decide that you wouldn't mind impaling her on your own pork sword of manhood. She looks good now, but she'd look better on the end of your dick! You smile as she switches her bag from hand to hand and digs the toe of her mud-caked boot into the gravel, her eyes demurely downcast.

She looks up, her blue eyes flashing as she points back to the center of this hamlet. "Well, I could show you some historical points of interest", she crinkles up her nose and breaks into a huge grin. "Or, you could follow me down to the river to taste some local herbal comestibles, and help me drink these beers, afore they get warm." She takes a deep breath, biting her lower lip, hands on hips, as her firm little breasts jut out invitingly, as if to say "Good Morning!"

Hot damn! You puff up, yet again amazed how women seem to need to throw themselves at you! But why should you be amazed, you're quite a catch after all. I mean, you should know, you tell yourself that all the time! "Now, that's more like it", you bellow, "let's go!"

"Okay. Follow me then, I'm in that li'l, brown pick-up." She points across the gravel lot to a rattletrap vehicle that is more duct-tape than brown paint. You snicker to yourself watching her sashay away, your eyes narrow critically as you admire her ass in her tight jeans, and you are quite amused to see that redneck girls really do have their names embossed on their belts.

Unfortunately, once down at the river things did not go as you wanted them to go. As a matter of fact, things really went awry. After sharing a joint and drinking a couple of her beers while listening to the goat-roping music blaring out of her tinny speakers, you finally put some of your patently cool, and irresistible moves on her. But to your chagrin, she rebuffed you! When you closed on her to grope her she gently, but firmly, ground her knee in your crotch.

"Not now, later," she cooed. "Later you'll have more than you can handle." You tried to grab her again but she easily sidestepped you and hopped into her piece of shit pick-up.

"Uh, uh! Later, city boy! Later I'm going to play with your balls!" She wagged her finger reproachfully at you, "I'm going to play with your balls much to my amusement!" She laughed as she sped away, leaving you standing in her dust and pondering her cryptic message.

Now here you are alone in the night, thinking of that young beauty and making yourself horny! You undo your pants and slide 'em down, one hand plays with your cum-laden testicles while with your other hand you start to slowly stroke your huge member, visions of that cock-teasing bitch, Moira, playing in your head.

Given half a chance you'd fuck her alright!

You'd fuck her until she cried!

You start to stroke harder and faster, your breath labored!

That backwoods midget bitch, you'd cleave her tight snatch and split her asunder with your massive "Pony Boy"! That'd teach her to fuck with her superiors! Even over your own panting you can hear her laughing at you! Bitch! Wait a sec... her laughter's not in your head, it's right in front of you!

"Pony Boy?" She drawls before bursting out into more uproarious laughter! Holy shit! She's standing right across the fire from you, pointing at your crotch and laughing! Doubled up in guffaws and wiping tears of laughter from her eyes!

"My superior?" she now sneers with a hard edge to her voice.

“Holy shit! Was I thinking out loud?” you wonder.

"We're going to just see about that!"

Caught in such a compromising position, and with her clad all in black and standing over you while illuminated by the fire she looks ten-foot tall and very threatening! With your scrotum shrinking up in fear, you let go of your shriveling cock and you scramble to pull your jeans up.

"Don't bother", she orders as she steps between your legs to nudge your balls with the toe of her boot, "Did I happen to mention that I used to play soccer? Yeah, I could really boot the balls!"

You gulp. Your manly cluster attempts to withdraw into the safety of your body.

She smiles, cruelly, and then drawls softly, "Let the games begin!" She draws her booted foot back and delivers a crushing kick to your exposed testicles!

You shriek! She laughs! Your hands go to your balls as you curl into the fetal position clutching your smashed nuts!

She looks up at the sky. "The night is young! It's going to be a long night for you, wise guy!" She kicks you in the ribs! Once, twice, three times! But as you roll away you expose your gonads, which she swiftly and solidly kicks again! HARD!

"How's that feel?” she asks with mock concern in her voice. "Before I'm through playing with your balls, you're going beg me to remove the source of your anguish! But I won't! Well, I might take one, just to teach you some manners about sullying the flower of Southern Womanhood!" Another kick to the ribs, "You're going to be sorry that you were ever born with testicles!"

Later gators!

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