The stalwart girl caught up, huffing, and asked, "Kin you fellas give me a ride to town?" and, of course, she'd pronounced the word ride as "rad."
Balls peeked down into a formidable cleavage. "Well I don't see why not."
"Ain't no way, girl!" Dicky complained. "You ain't gittin' in my damn-near mint condition 1969 El Camino all covered with hock!"
Balls' right brow rose. "He's got a point there, hon," he said to her. "But now if ya throwed them snotty overalls in the back and rode nek-it, then that'd be fine."
Ida sighed. "Awright... ," and she began to peel off the sullied garment.
Dicky and Balls got in.
"Shee-it," Dicky griped. "What'cha go'n do that fer? She probably stinks worse'n a dog's ass."
"Aw, that ain't very neighborly of ya, Dicky," Balls replied with some mirth. "But I wouldn't mind havin' me a gander at her tits'n cooter, ya know?"
"Shee-it... "
Balls whispered, elbowing his friend. "And just ya watch. Ten ta one I talk her inta givin' us each a blowjob."
"I don't want my dick in her mouth, Balls. It's dirty as a cat box."
Balls chuckled. "Dicky, yous need ta relax. We got time ta make our run and hit Crafter's house aaaaaaaaaand get blowjobs from this alkey hosebag. Bet'cha I kin talk her inta it." He slapped Dicky on the back. "Life's fer livin', man! Ya gots ta go with it."
When Ida slid in next to Balls on the ‘Mino's long black bench seat, she did indeed smell something roughly akin to a dog's ass. But what she was sporting in addition to her nudity were two pleasingly distended breasts and nipples like pink baby pacifiers. Yet there was something else rather distended about her as well.
Her stomach.
"Thanks, fellas," she obliged and quickly closed the door. Her hands trembled as she unscrewed the jar of clear liquor and took a good hearty chug. Then she leaned back, sighing. "Aw, fuck, yeah. That hits the spot... "
Balls marveled at the physical proof of the girl's fecundity, not that he knew what fecundity meant. "Well, dang, girl. I'd say you shore as shit got yerself a bun cookin' in that oven down there."
"Aw, fuck, I know. Somebody preggered me up fierce'n I don't even know who," she replied. "Figgure I'm four or five months... " Her breasts vibrated nicely when Dicky turned over the big 427 and got on the road. "Just what I fuckin' need, huh? At least my food stamps'll go up. Gots me three crumb-snatchers already."
Now Balls was gazing appreciably at the amble outgrowth of black thatch between her legs.
Her hands shook a bit less now, when she took another hit off the jar and smacked her lips. Balls thought oddly of all that high-octane alcohol mixing with that skinny dude's hock and semen...
Dicky leaned over behind the wheel, shooting her an alarmed glance. "Say, honey, you ain't supposed ta be drinkin' if'n yer knocked up, ya know? It fucks the kid up whiles he's growin' in yer gut."
Ida cast back a look of skepticism. "Aw, that ain't nothin' but a bunch'a what my mama used ta call codswallop. She drank ‘shine whole time she were pregnant with me, and I turned out all right."
Balls shot Dicky a quick smile.
"You don't mind if I sort'a... feel yer belly, do ya?" Balls asked next.
Ida frowned, then shrugged, letting the liquor take the edge off her need.
Balls smoothed his hand over the stretched, white stomach and popped-out bellybutton. That's what I'se call a belly FULL'a white trash, he thought. In his demented mind's eye, he saw himself fucking her hard as someone plungering a toilet, trying to bop the little critter's head with his knob. I'd give it a face full, I shore would. He wasn't sure but he thought he could actually feel the blood in her belly beating. Next, he asked, "Well, hon, ya know that's a damn fine set'a jugs you got hangin' on ya. How's 'bout if I have me a feel?"
"Shore, go ahead," she said with no interest in the least.
Balls plucked the meaty, pink nipples, then squeezed. The breasts cumulatively felt like hot water balloons. "If I, like, sucked 'em... would milk come out?"
"Oh, yeah, it don't stop when you're pregnant all the time," she informed.
"Well... how 'bouts if I take me a suck?"
Ida rolled her eyes. "Aw, go ahead. You's are givin' me a ride, after all."
Dicky frowned aside as Balls leaned over and planted a lip-lock on the left areola. When he applied some hard suction, the papilla swelled up like a salty gumdrop, and then—
There she blows...
Hot milk eddied out and filled his mouth. Was it his imagination or did it taste like it had been cut with moonshine? He switched back and forth, letting it all trickle down his throat. South of the belt, things began to stir.
I got me a load ta bust, he realized, and then he unbuckled his jeans.
"What'choo thank yer doin'?" came her immediate objection.
Balls answered in complete honesty. "I'se whippin' my dick out so's you kin suck it."
"I ain't doin' no such thing!" Now she was getting nasty. "What kind'a girl you think I am, anyway?"
Again, Balls answered in complete honesty. "You're a creeker fuck-dump who lets twennie rednecks spit in her mouth fer a pint'a hooch. In others words... you're a whore."
"Yeah? Well, whores get paid, asshole, and I don't see no money in yer hand," she sniped back.
Balls didn't like to be called asshole. That's what his father had called him damn near every day of his life.
He tapped her in the head with the blackjack, which put her lights half out.
"Find a clearin', Dicky," he ordered. "And pull ‘er over. Ain't no splittail calls me a asshole'n gits away with it."
"Aw, come on, Balls," came Dicky's wearied reply. "Just push the ‘ho out the car'n let's go."
"Nots till we put a ruckin' on the bitch. Now... Pull over."
Dicky groaned to himself and slowed the ‘Mino. Meantime, Balls sucked a nipple into his mouth, waited till more milk flowed, then bit down hard. Half-unconscious, Ida shrieked. Balls chewed alternately, as if on tough steak, then, for formality, he let his front teeth clip down on the inverted nub of navel. The girl sort of vibrated from the pain. Balls was trying hard to bite the nub clean off but he never quite got there.
The Camino chugged into a small clearing off the road.
"Just leave her here'n let's git on our run," Dicky practically begged. "You've rucked her up enough."
"Shee-it," Balls muttered. He opened the door, grabbed a handful of greasy hair, and dragged her out of the car.
Here we go again, Dicky thought to himself. He watched Balls drag the girl into the woods until they disappeared.
It was the most satisfying dream of his life...
At first.
As the Writer lay back naked on the bed, the activity commencing about him could only be called a "Seven-Girl Tongue-Bath." Hot tongues and sucking mouths ranged his flesh. Any errant glance showed him beautiful bare butts in the air, breasts in his face, swollen nipples brushing his lips. Wedges of smooth white flesh shifted all around him as these voluptuous servitors constantly traded positions to lave every square inch of his body—er, almost every square inch. His groinal area was deliberately neglected, to only incite him more.