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The Trials and Tribulations of a former site King.
Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere...
That line pretty much summed up my life before I took the SYC Crown. In the early days before the crown, true power was something I was not able to fathom. I left my small town 100 miles north of Kalispell at the ripe age of 28. I had stars in my eyes and dreams of making it big, but my small town was holding me back. I was going to make my dreams cum true no matter what.
With a half tank of gas, I took my 1973 Oldsmobile Delta and hit the road. She was a real gem. Powder Blue paint, springs sticking up from the backseat, and an engine that smoked more than a character on Mad Men. No real plan, but I pointed the car west and hoped she would make it. The summer was spent giving hand jobs to the football team. Jacking off cocks earned me $86USD. With this tidy sum in my pocket, the world was mine. The sky was the limit!
The family was very upset I was leaving. They had wanted me to join the town lumber company where the foreman would have made me his bottom for sure. Guess he thought I was just white trash and would suck his lumber cock off for a few dollars. Little did that lumber rube know I would have done it for free! Cest la vie!
About a few hours into my trip, the legendary Oldsmobile let me down. Barely 30 miles west and I hit a snag. She started smoking and caught fire. I did manage to get it on the side of the road and grabbled what few belongings I owned. This included my can of Skol, 3 cans of Olympia beer, my ABBA 8-tracks, the red dress I stole my ****-ter, and of course some black and white Polaroids I took when I was fucked in the back cunt at Burger King by some random dudes. Worse yet, truckers drove by and yelled obscenities at me and hurled garbage at me. No one tried to help put out my car fire. Fuck that sucked.
I started off down the road on foot, trying to look pretty so some trucker would pick me up. Back in the early 80's, a suck would get you at least 100 miles down the road. A shove up the back cunny was worth around 200. My young body was ready to pay the road toll. I hiked for felt like days, the sun beating down my balding head like a Walmart Solar Panel. Thirsty, tired, and depressed I pondered my options.
Just when I was feeling my worst, I heard a truck approaching and it was laying in to the brakes hard! My luck had changed. The semi screeched to a halt. It was dirty, covered in bugs, but I just knew it would be okay because it was a El Pollo Loco truck bringing live chickens to their grilling facility. As soon as I climbed up to the cab my 3 inches of flaming fury went to full boner. The trucker was amazing. Dark skin, like an African God, sweaty, and very muscled. His skin glistened like Armor-All on a old tire. A brilliant 80's afro that reminded me of the Brillo pad my rotten mother used to scour me arse with after I was bad. If only my drunken father could have scraped his arse off his Archie Bunker chair to help me... .but I digress.
This was such an amazing experience. Up until this point, I had only seen a negro on the telly. All we had in Montana was a black and white telly with a cracked screen, which was caused by a bottle of Olympia beer my father had thrown. We used to watch "Good Times" and learned so much about the plight of US negros growing up in the post Nixon years. Of fond memories regarding telly as a youth was going to the local Woolworth store and sitting in the television department for hours. It was amazing and I saw this again later in life on Married with ****. This family so much reminded me of my own people. Badly educated and bred to fail.
Now, I had to put these memories away and focus on getting into this semi and trucker into my arse. The trucker got out of his side of the semi and jumped down. He was circling me like a hyena, checking out the merchandise. He made his move and picked me up like a sack of potatoes. Most men would have been intimidated by this rough fore play, but my back cunt buttered up. We got into the semi and I was amazed at all the luxuries. He even had a 8 track player! My ABBA tape was put in and blasted "Take a Chance on Me." It was a perfect song and I needed to give up 500 miles worth of sucking and fucking.
We started rolling down the freeway. He said his name was Leroy Brown and was wanted by the law. Something about getting into a fight with the police because they beat down his ho. He continued to impress me with his wealth by pulling out some fancy wine from a store called K-mart. I had never heard of this store and could only fantasize about the opulence in their stores. Wine and fancy glasses with handles made this the best trip ever.
Leroy asked me my name and I said Donted. He spit out his wine laughing and said that could not be true, but was it? I did not want to use my real name.
We were getting close to the truck stop and Leroy flashed those ivory whites at me. I knew it was time to earn my first 100 miles.