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Image for the poem The STANG Part 5

The STANG Part 5

Chapter 5
 
“Southern girls are God's gift to the entire male population. There is absolutely no woman finer than one raised below the Mason-Dixon line and once you go southern may the good Lord help you - you never go back”
—Kenny Chesney
 
“What about him, sug?”
 
“Who? The guy with the Billy Bob coveralls and the Colonel Sanders goatee? HA! Girl, it’s been far too long since we got you laid. You’ve lost your mojo, bitch!”
 
“Damn right I have! Hell’s bells, H, you left me for dead when you met Gear. My mojo done gone more south than we are!”
 
“Well, we aimin’ to fix that tonight, ain’t we? Just don’t embarrass me with your choices, girlfriend. Don’t make me pull rank and pick a dick for you.”
 
“Hon, I so out of practice I make Evangeline seem a jezebel!”
 
“Yo! Sexy bartender! My girl and I are dry! Two more Southern and Cokes—lime, ice, no straw!”

****
 
Mist and I found this roadhouse just off the 55 mile marker of highway 98. Fuck me it was a dive, and perfect for catfishing: parking lot full of rough gravel and bottle caps, draped in Spanish moss from the Cyprus trees hanging over it, and nothing but muddy Ford pick-ups parked in front. If we couldn’t find a willing hard-on in this place, we both might as well hang up our garters and cry uncle.
 
We parked the Stang under the only light in the lot, and damn, it looked beautiful under it: slut-lipstick red, black racing stripe, air foil on the trunk, shining like a sultry, unpopped cherry… so damn hot. We had to wipe the seats down after the trooper pulled us over, but hell, that cop’ll sleep good tonight, no lie.

****
 
“Here we go, ladies: two Southern Cokes, lime, ice, no straw.”
 
“Sugar… you sure know how to wet a girl’s whistle.”
 
“What’s your name, handsome?”
 
“Ben.”
 
“I’m Heather, and this here piece a’ cherry pie sitting next to me is Misty.”
 
“My pleasure, ladies. I haven’t seen you two around before. I would have remembered two long drinks of water like you. Y’all from out of town?”
 
“Nah. We’re from up the road, sugar cube.”
 
“Girl’s night out, is it?”
 
“More of a fishing trip, gorgeous.”
 
“Ah. Well, if you don’t mind me saying, it’ll be like shooting bluegill in a barrel in this joint. Literally. Most of these people are shrimpers from out Biloxi way, and they smell like it.”
 
“Hahahaha! Honey pie, ain’t no shrimp in the sea that can’t come right with a bit of sauce.”

****
 
Me and Mist took our Southerns out into the jungle to browse the merchandise. Neither of us had been to a good ol’ Mississippi roadhouse since our college days. It was like coming home: sawdust on the floor, Dixie long necks everywhere you turned, corner stage surrounded with chicken wire (not really a good sign, but fitting), Marlboro fog bank hovering at the ceiling, and more John Deere caps than you’d see at the State Fair. Dressed like we were, we couldn’t have looked more like a couple’a fishin’ lures.
 
Misty’s eyes were gleaming like a fat kid holding the keys to Hershey’s. Poor thing. I’d left her high and dry for too long. I felt bad. That’s the trouble with men. Sometimes they screw your priorities as well as your honey pot. I was going to have to re-train my girl in the art of bird-doggin’ all over again.
 
“Keep yer eyes on their ring fingers, hon.” I said. “No ring, no ring mark, that’s your green light. And don’t smile ‘less you wanna reel ‘um in. If ya catch one you want to throw back, gimmi a tug and we escape to the powder room. And make sure they have all their teeth. A man that don’t care for his teeth ain’t gunna care for much of anything.”
 
“Hell, H, I feel like a hen in the rooster house all over again.”
 
“Hahahah! Me too, hon.”
 
The band started playing good ole’ boy music, and the electricity in the bar went up to ‘juiced.’ Mist and I started dancing, and it took all of twenty seconds for the fish to start schoolin’ round us. Hell, we ended up spoiled for choice. It was like goin to a restaurant and being unable to decide what you want because you’re too damn hungry to decide. But, despite our reasons for being there, it was a hoot just kickin’ up our heels. Mist looked like a lil’ old honey bee in my yellow dress, spinnin round and laughin’. It made me feel good to see her so happy. And up close, the men didn’t seem as bumpkin’ as they looked from afar. A bit rough ‘round the edges, but I didn’t smell shrimp once.
 
The whole time me and Mist were on the dance floor, I kept catchin’ the bartender’s eye. Ben. He was watchin’ us. I gave Mist a tug when he wasn’t lookin’ and pointed to him. He was pure grits and gravy: tall, young, built, square jaw, sexy as in a black t-shirt and Levis, and easy to picture wearing nothin’ but his birthday suit and a Stetson in the back of the Stang. Our drinks were dry so I made my move.

****
 
“How’s the fishin’ goin?” he said. His voice was deep and strong.
 
“Lots a’ nibbles. Nothin’ worth keepin’.”
 
He smiled, and that sealed it. Aside from a man’s eye’s, a man’s smile is the surest way to get his foot in the door.
 
“That’s a shame,” he said with a flirt.
 
“What time you get off, sugar cube?”
 
“Soon.”
 
“Ever have a two for one offer?”
 
“Not until now.”
 
“Ever play doctor in a 1971 Mustang soft top?”
 
“In that case, I’m off right now.”
 
“We’ll meet you outside, honey pie.”
 
Too easy.

****
 
I yanked Misty away from some mullet-haired hayseed and whispered in her ear. She smiled, took my hand, and all but dragged me to the door to go wait for Ben.
 
We stepped outside, and the cool, southern night felt like a skinny dip on a summer day. We looked over at the Stang, and just seeing it there made our faucets start dripping. It was almost glowing under the light pole; ethereal, otherworldly, and so damn sexy against the backdrop of a thousand twinklin’ southern stars. The muffled thump of the chicken wire band inside made our hearts beat in rhythm with our thighs. I thought about the orgasm I had in the front seat and I almost had to cross my legs.
 
We felt an arm slip around both of our waists. Ben was holding a bottle of Southern and grinnin’ like the devil at the crossroads. We reached down and put our hands gently on the crotch of his Levis. It felt like he was smuggling the Rock of Gibraltar behind his button fly. His hands slowly slid upwards until they cupped our breasts. He gave each of our nipples a flick, and we both gasped. Damn. We weren’t even in the Stang yet, and already we were both slippery when wet.
 
I don’t recall crossing the parking lot. I don’t recall getting in the Stang, or dropping the front seats to make room in the back. I don’t recall how the three of us managed to undress. We were entirely under the spell of the Stang, and so was Ben. His body was like smooth, polished rock, and despite the awkwardness of having three in the back seat of the Stang, he moved with the grace of Elvis. He slipped into Misty and her eyes rolled back into her head. She groaned and gulped for air while Ben slowly pistoned her. I have to be honest, watching Ben slide into Misty was about the hottest thing I had ever seen.
 
I reached down and started to massage myself while I explored Ben’s body with my tongue, waiting impatiently for him to switch sides. Misty reached up and dug her fingernails into the upholstery, panting and moaning at the same time. Her body was so sweaty it looked like she’d just stepped out of the shower. The radio suddenly came on: Jim Morrison belting out Roadhouse Blues. I grinned, reached my hands around to Ben’s chest, and started tweaking his nipples. He grunted like an animal in heat, slipped out of Misty, turned around, and sunk his tongue into my mouth. He pushed me into the seat and mounted me, and I felt him—all of him—plunge deep down into my rabbit hole. Dear baby Jesus in a manger! I could feel the pressure all the way up behind my eyeballs every time he thrust. Misty scrambled onto his back and buried her face into his neck.
 
Suddenly, I felt the Stang; that warm, pulsating ember, like a heartbeat between my legs. Misty paused from what she was doing, and I knew she was feelin’ it too. I grabbed onto Ben’s shoulders and started shoving my hips upwards, inviting him to go deeper and harder. He obliged in kind, yet I all but forgot he was inside of me. It was like being possessed. Everything disappeared except the live wire that was sparking inside my g-spot. I almost couldn’t stand it. I started to cry out. Ben thought it was his doing, so he started pumping me even faster. He roared. Misty had dug her fingernails into his butt so deep they drew blood. The music got louder. Misty and I got louder.
 
“Fuck me!” I cried out. “Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuuuuck MEEEE!”
 
Misty pulled Ben off of me, flipped him around, and attacked. She crawled on top of him, slid into the saddle, and started riding. Her eyes were like crackling campfire as she held Ben pinned to the backseat of the Stang. I plunged my fingers into myself and gripped the door handle, unable to stop. I could feel the volcano inside of me rising, getting ready to erupt. Misty was panting. Her teeth were clenched and her red hair was whipping down across her face as she rode Ben like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. It was coming. Holy shit here it comes…
 
Misty and I screamed like Banshee as we came together, completely in sync. The orgasm was so intense I saw lighting bugs flashing behind my eyelids. I just about pulled the door handle out of its hinge. Misty pressed her fists against the soft top, whipping her head side to side as she howled. It felt like an earthquake, a tsunami, and a tornado all at once. I don’t remember anything after that.
 
When Misty and I came to (we must have both blacked out) we were both sitting in the front seats. It took us a few minutes to realize that what just happened hadn’t been a dream. We looked at each other, still naked and sheened in sex-sweat, bangs plastered to our foreheads. We turned around and looked in the back seat. Ben was lying there, out like a light. I reached a trembling hand back and checked his wrist for a pulse. There was none. His body was cold. He was dead.

 
 
Written by Justafan18 (Justafan)
Published
Author's Note
I really hope y’all will stick around for the rest of the ride😈😘😈
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