General Peters
My sled was due for a wash but I never wash it myself or even go to a carwash. I've been waiting for those chicks who do "sponsor car washes," holding up "car wash here!" signs and jumping up and down while wearing a bathing suit under shorts.
Well, today I finally saw one of these as I was driving down the highway with the sun beaming down. There were a couple teen poptarts in the distance with car wash signs and I lifted my shades to the top of my dome, peering in their direction and whispering into my cupped hand as if I were holding a pilot's speaker, "Boobaybillies detected. Fukken roger."
I timed it out so that I would stop at the red light where they were both standing, and I timed it perfectly.
One was a petite tanned blonde el perfecto b-cups, the other a brunette with larger breasts and a tighter t-shirt. Once they saw me in my Crysler Concorde with my white dress shirt, a couple of the buttons undone and an untied velvet red bowtie draped around the collars, and they started jumping with a little more estrogen in the ovaries and started pointing to the gas station which was letting them hold their carwash.
I clinched my jaw, tugged lightly at my collar and whipped my wrist around look at my watch and pretend to be checking the time, without even looking at the two bitches.
The light turned green and I peeled into the gas station and walked out of my rig. The one adult woman, a fatass who was probably the mom of one of the chicks I was about to undress with my eyes, said, "hi!" and the chick beside her was an instawood whom I'll describe in a just a second, fukkers. I took my keys and did a behind-the-back toss of them to to the instawood while I was in mid-stride to the g-station door, and said, "get the inside of the windows, too." She dropped them but picked them up and said "ok!" I came out of the gas station a couple minutes later with a single Heiniken which I ripped out of the 12 pack and the dumbfukk raghead only charged me $1.09 for it.
At this point there is one chick plus the fatass mom washing my car, and inside my car, the instawood is in her bathing suit and TINY....TINY shorts that reveal her babyfat-laden assfolds, short tanned legs, and she's in my backseat on her knees, scrubbing the windows in a motion that made it look like she was taking it doggystyle from ME (which SHOULD have been the situation), and I pound the Heiniken while wearing my shades and staring at her ass. Not much in the teets, but cute, tanned face with some freckles, brown hair pulled back.
The lesser hot chick, a blonde wearing shades, a little overweight with pasty thighs but who was willing to bend down and show off her massive cleavage to me, said, "I like your car!"
I asked what the sponsorship was and she said "our high school vollyball team is going to California for a tournament." Then she asked what the rack on the back of my sled was.
"That's my bike rack," I said while taking a slug of my Heiniken. " I also use it to hold ski equipment......and I had those huge antennas installed as well."
They hosed my car down after the full wash and the Instawood came over and handed me my keys and flashed a smile. The humid, sticky air had a rare breeze to it for a second, lifting the sweet smell of sunscreen lotion off the cusp of her melons into the vacitity of my nostrils as I watched the sun glisten off her legs. Instafukkenwood.
They dried off my rig and I whipped out a five dollar bill and put it in the donation cup and said, "I'll be watching you honeys on ESPN the duece once you make the final." They giggled but the fat mom looked a little pissed off. I took the last sip of beer and saw a gigantic industrial dumpater about 20 yards away, the slide door on the side opened, and I chucked the bottle with with the precision of Elvis Grbac at a goofy summer QB challenge. It went right through the opening and crashed into a thousand pieces in the empty dumpater.
"Nice shot!" one of the bitches said.
I cranked up my Concorde with 3rd Eye Blind's "Graduate" blaring, and hauled ass, peering in my rear view at the Instawood. I rolled up the windows and, while looking in the back to check out my perfectly cleaned windows, saw a little arm scrunchie thing that chicks wear. Had she left it there by accident?
The smell of her sunscreen was still lingering in my sled, and the image of her tight ass in the back seat was still vivid. I drove down a backroad, took my shirt off and whipped out the sausage, put the scrunchie around my crank and blasted a load while driving.
I grabbed my dress shirt and wiped my tummy off. After that, I pulled in to a dry cleaners where some red-haired pale, dark eye shadowed skank with tight jeans and a t-shirt, weighing about 90 pounds, saw me come in shirtless and she took a gander at the G-honk.
I had my shades on and flashed a grin and said, "one shirt," while handing her my wrinkled-up dress shirt with fresh cokk-butter all over it. She was oblivious to the jizz all over it since she probably wakes up every day with boatloads of sailor cum in her twin size bed of her studio apartment, and she filled out the paper.
"Yall don't wash velvet red bowties, do you?" I grinned with cockiness at her while holding up my bowtie.
"No ties," she said.
I playfully slapped at my abs with my hands and said "See you this week!"
She stared at me as I left.
Fukken epic day. Clean the car, clean the pipes, clean the stomach, clean the shirt.
GAP
POPCORN DAWGFISH
Well, today I finally saw one of these as I was driving down the highway with the sun beaming down. There were a couple teen poptarts in the distance with car wash signs and I lifted my shades to the top of my dome, peering in their direction and whispering into my cupped hand as if I were holding a pilot's speaker, "Boobaybillies detected. Fukken roger."
I timed it out so that I would stop at the red light where they were both standing, and I timed it perfectly.
One was a petite tanned blonde el perfecto b-cups, the other a brunette with larger breasts and a tighter t-shirt. Once they saw me in my Crysler Concorde with my white dress shirt, a couple of the buttons undone and an untied velvet red bowtie draped around the collars, and they started jumping with a little more estrogen in the ovaries and started pointing to the gas station which was letting them hold their carwash.
I clinched my jaw, tugged lightly at my collar and whipped my wrist around look at my watch and pretend to be checking the time, without even looking at the two bitches.
The light turned green and I peeled into the gas station and walked out of my rig. The one adult woman, a fatass who was probably the mom of one of the chicks I was about to undress with my eyes, said, "hi!" and the chick beside her was an instawood whom I'll describe in a just a second, fukkers. I took my keys and did a behind-the-back toss of them to to the instawood while I was in mid-stride to the g-station door, and said, "get the inside of the windows, too." She dropped them but picked them up and said "ok!" I came out of the gas station a couple minutes later with a single Heiniken which I ripped out of the 12 pack and the dumbfukk raghead only charged me $1.09 for it.
At this point there is one chick plus the fatass mom washing my car, and inside my car, the instawood is in her bathing suit and TINY....TINY shorts that reveal her babyfat-laden assfolds, short tanned legs, and she's in my backseat on her knees, scrubbing the windows in a motion that made it look like she was taking it doggystyle from ME (which SHOULD have been the situation), and I pound the Heiniken while wearing my shades and staring at her ass. Not much in the teets, but cute, tanned face with some freckles, brown hair pulled back.
The lesser hot chick, a blonde wearing shades, a little overweight with pasty thighs but who was willing to bend down and show off her massive cleavage to me, said, "I like your car!"
I asked what the sponsorship was and she said "our high school vollyball team is going to California for a tournament." Then she asked what the rack on the back of my sled was.
"That's my bike rack," I said while taking a slug of my Heiniken. " I also use it to hold ski equipment......and I had those huge antennas installed as well."
They hosed my car down after the full wash and the Instawood came over and handed me my keys and flashed a smile. The humid, sticky air had a rare breeze to it for a second, lifting the sweet smell of sunscreen lotion off the cusp of her melons into the vacitity of my nostrils as I watched the sun glisten off her legs. Instafukkenwood.
They dried off my rig and I whipped out a five dollar bill and put it in the donation cup and said, "I'll be watching you honeys on ESPN the duece once you make the final." They giggled but the fat mom looked a little pissed off. I took the last sip of beer and saw a gigantic industrial dumpater about 20 yards away, the slide door on the side opened, and I chucked the bottle with with the precision of Elvis Grbac at a goofy summer QB challenge. It went right through the opening and crashed into a thousand pieces in the empty dumpater.
"Nice shot!" one of the bitches said.
I cranked up my Concorde with 3rd Eye Blind's "Graduate" blaring, and hauled ass, peering in my rear view at the Instawood. I rolled up the windows and, while looking in the back to check out my perfectly cleaned windows, saw a little arm scrunchie thing that chicks wear. Had she left it there by accident?
The smell of her sunscreen was still lingering in my sled, and the image of her tight ass in the back seat was still vivid. I drove down a backroad, took my shirt off and whipped out the sausage, put the scrunchie around my crank and blasted a load while driving.
I grabbed my dress shirt and wiped my tummy off. After that, I pulled in to a dry cleaners where some red-haired pale, dark eye shadowed skank with tight jeans and a t-shirt, weighing about 90 pounds, saw me come in shirtless and she took a gander at the G-honk.
I had my shades on and flashed a grin and said, "one shirt," while handing her my wrinkled-up dress shirt with fresh cokk-butter all over it. She was oblivious to the jizz all over it since she probably wakes up every day with boatloads of sailor cum in her twin size bed of her studio apartment, and she filled out the paper.
"Yall don't wash velvet red bowties, do you?" I grinned with cockiness at her while holding up my bowtie.
"No ties," she said.
I playfully slapped at my abs with my hands and said "See you this week!"
She stared at me as I left.
Fukken epic day. Clean the car, clean the pipes, clean the stomach, clean the shirt.
GAP
POPCORN DAWGFISH
