I moved to Florida landing a job at a gas station. A guy who would pull up on his Harley and fill up once a week, and as glamorous as spinning the hotdogs on the broken heat rack may sound, his weekly visits became my high points. Now I couldn’t understand this guy for shit because he had such a deep WV accent, but it didn’t matter. I was tired of the deadass Tim’s loving NY boys and was looking forward to a geographical dick change as well.
About a month after riding around pretending I understood everything he was saying, it was time. I was finally alone In my brothers bedroom, with this Marlboro smoking, Harley riding, momma lovin southern boy. We were getting frisky when blurted – “spit in my mouth it’ll be sexy”. My mouth dry as can be as if I rode the entire way to the house with my mouth open on the back of his bike…I panicked. Not wanting to loose the moment, I hocked back and a grand ole loogie came forward and I spit it with force into his mouth, figuring this was the nasty he was into.
It was not in fact his type of nasty, the look on his face will haunt me forever as he looked at me with horror and swallowed. Good ole southern boys don’t waste an opportunity though-and we continued on-and for that, I thank his momma raised him right.