I rolled into the Sun Tan City for one purpose and one purpose only. And no, It wasn't for the heat lamps. I'm naturally dark skinned. It was to finish what I started.
The warm weather on Saturday had me enjoying a little cruising in the Honda. We made eye contact in the parking lot and your smirk said enough to fill a Grisham novel. So I turned around and pulled in behind you at the tanning salon. As you locked your door and juggled your phone and purse you shot me another look. The smirk was gone. Replaced now with a smile. Genuine and hypnotic. I was under your spell. You added further temptation by shaking your cute ass in the tight leggings that leave little to imagine. And of course the boots.
I'm not a stalker so I wrote down your license just in case we lost each other before following you into what can only be described as the mecca for white girls who want to be mexican without the machismó. Next census will have a orange category for race.
Your backward glance had my UV bulb protruding and you asked for your normal booth which quite accurately was called the 'melanoma'. A stand up unit. I had no idea they made such things. I quickly came up your rear.
Turning, you yanked down my pants and asked how much I wanted to spend. Spend? I asked if you were a hooker and you quickly corrected me with, "No, an escort. So whats it gonna be?" You popped one of my balls out of your mouth like a gobstopper.
"I have $20."
"$20? Shit." She dropped my erect fluorescent ballast and stood. "You can play with my ass for $20. Just don't touch my asshole."
Which I immediately understood as exactly what I should do. So after several seconds of caressing her lumps I plunged my long middle finger as far as I could into her pristine bunghole. Even gave a twist.
In retrospect, I should have considered that it was well past lunchtime. Yea, hindsight is 20/20. Because what followed her shriek was a 160 watt explosion of shit. I jumped back crashing bulbs and glass as a shit storm of tornadic brown covered everything.
I crawled backwards into the lobby as you cursed and broke even more glass. Bulbs were popping like fireworks and bronze women were running in every direction and covering their mouths. A solarium nightmare.
It was then that I realized I still had my $20. Fuckin A! I casually walked to the honda. Not a drop on me. It's good to be me.
But I feel bad. Really, I'm tore up over the fact that you didn't get my name or number. I was gonna write it on the $20 but, well, never mind that. How about when your lacerations heal you hit me up? Same place? Lets meet BEFORE eating, yes?
N.
The warm weather on Saturday had me enjoying a little cruising in the Honda. We made eye contact in the parking lot and your smirk said enough to fill a Grisham novel. So I turned around and pulled in behind you at the tanning salon. As you locked your door and juggled your phone and purse you shot me another look. The smirk was gone. Replaced now with a smile. Genuine and hypnotic. I was under your spell. You added further temptation by shaking your cute ass in the tight leggings that leave little to imagine. And of course the boots.
I'm not a stalker so I wrote down your license just in case we lost each other before following you into what can only be described as the mecca for white girls who want to be mexican without the machismó. Next census will have a orange category for race.
Your backward glance had my UV bulb protruding and you asked for your normal booth which quite accurately was called the 'melanoma'. A stand up unit. I had no idea they made such things. I quickly came up your rear.
Turning, you yanked down my pants and asked how much I wanted to spend. Spend? I asked if you were a hooker and you quickly corrected me with, "No, an escort. So whats it gonna be?" You popped one of my balls out of your mouth like a gobstopper.
"I have $20."
"$20? Shit." She dropped my erect fluorescent ballast and stood. "You can play with my ass for $20. Just don't touch my asshole."
Which I immediately understood as exactly what I should do. So after several seconds of caressing her lumps I plunged my long middle finger as far as I could into her pristine bunghole. Even gave a twist.
In retrospect, I should have considered that it was well past lunchtime. Yea, hindsight is 20/20. Because what followed her shriek was a 160 watt explosion of shit. I jumped back crashing bulbs and glass as a shit storm of tornadic brown covered everything.
I crawled backwards into the lobby as you cursed and broke even more glass. Bulbs were popping like fireworks and bronze women were running in every direction and covering their mouths. A solarium nightmare.
It was then that I realized I still had my $20. Fuckin A! I casually walked to the honda. Not a drop on me. It's good to be me.
But I feel bad. Really, I'm tore up over the fact that you didn't get my name or number. I was gonna write it on the $20 but, well, never mind that. How about when your lacerations heal you hit me up? Same place? Lets meet BEFORE eating, yes?
N.
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