Hygienic

This could have gone into 'Toys*Masturbation or Lesbian Sex or maybe Non-Human, or maybe even Romance. I decided I liked the Group Sex category best of all for this one, though.

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.

Taco Bell don't pay shit. Maybe if you a manager you can live off what they pay. But you just a regular part-time employee? Ain't no way you can liv off that shit.

But right after I turned nineteen, I dropped out of school; I mean, shit, nineteen years old and I'm still in the tenth grade? Even though I was going take the G.E.D., my mom still kicked me out her house.

Come to find out, as long as I'm in school? My dad was paying child support. Minute I dropped out? See Ya! And with four other kids to feed, four other kids bringing in a monthly check, my mom wasn't about let me skate buy. So much for that bullshit about motherly love.

But that's how I found out Taco Bell don't pay shit. Rent. Utilities. Gas. Insurance. Oh, you want eat? That ain't happening.

I was living with Sabrina and her boyfriend in this really shitty apartment off Pleasant Hill Road. I-85's right there; all you can hear is all these trucks going by, don't matter what time it is. Place is like ninety percent Mexican and ain't none of them ever heard of birth control. There's about a thousand kids running around. Four o'clock on a school day? You can't get into the parking lot; all the school buses dropping off hundreds of kids.

I found a trailer to rent; that right there saved me about three hundred a month. And the trailer was a whole bunch bigger than that ratty old apartment. I bought me a can of wasp spray and started walking to work. Someone told me wasp spray is a lot better than pepper spray; it can really fuck someone up. That saved me another fifty to eighty bucks in gas. Now, only time I use my car is to go to Tucker High School for my G.E.D. classes and to the grocery store.

I needed some jeans; my old ones were just about falling apart. And they smelled like Taco Bell too. So, I went to the Tucker Goodwill store on Lawrenceville Highway, right by Jimmy Carter. And that's where I met the love of my life.

Since I'm five two and weigh ninety four pounds, it's not easy finding jeans. That's why I shop at Goodwill. No way I'm paying eighty to a hundred bucks on jeans. At Goodwill, I'm probably going find three or four that kind of fit and then I just take a belt and tighten them up.

I also found two cute Hawaiian shirts that would fit my bony body. One was kind of a light blue and the other was a kind of burgundy color. Being a redhead, it ain't easy finding stuff looks cute on me. And it was Tuesday, which is Senior Citizens day. No, I'm not a Senior Citizen, but I still get the twenty five percent off, just because it's Tuesday.

And in a basket, right by the checkout, there were a bunch of beat up boxes. Sign said three bucks so I just looked over as I waited for some fat ass Mexican woman to quit screaming at her three kids and get her fat ass to the register and get out. Shit, bitch; maybe if you quit screaming at them, they maybe would settle down?

Right on top was a hand held shower thing. Three bucks. Just because the box was all beat up. I grabbed it and dropped it on top of my jeans.

Finally, the loud bitch and her three screaming, crying brats got through and I put my stuff on the counter.

The woman at the register was nice enough; had a horrible speech impediment but smiled and tried talking to me while ringing up my stuff. Because I work at Taco Bell, I know what assholes some customers can be, so I try to be nice to others. I said thank you and she did too.

Outside, the fat woman was still screaming at her kids and trying to shove them into a car that looked like it was made out of duct tape. There is no way that car is legal. Then again, I'm willing bet you, fat bitch ain't legal neither.

Home in my trailer again, I dig out the shower thing and read the box. Thing's got six settings; power rain, pulsating massage, power mist, rain massage, rain mist, water saving pause mode.

It had an ergonomic grip handle; Ms. Gonzales, my English teacher would have been proud of me. I knew that 'ergonomic' meant that it was designed to be comfortable when you used it. It also came with a long hose and this kind of holder thing that attached to the shower pipe.

I found Mr. Walton's 'emergency' tool kit under the kitchen sink and took the pliers into the bathroom. Mr. Walton's my landlord; he owns this trailer. Actually, he owns about fifteen trailers and rents them out. And he says shit's always breaking down and he don't feel like lugging a big old tool box everywhere and anyway, most of the shit breaks? We can probably fix it ourselves and don't need be bothering him. So he leaves a bunch of emergency tools at our trailers.

I took the old showerhead off and figured out how do the holder thing, then the hose thing and finally the ergonomic hand held shower. Then I got naked and got into my shower.

The leaver was on 'power mist' and holy shit. I wear a 29B bra so don't really have big tittis. I do got nice big nipples and they are so sensitive and anyway, the water hits my nips and I just about screamed.

I got the thing down out of the holder and pressed the spray right at my nipples and did scream when I came.

I switched it all the way over and got the 'power rain' which was kind of meh. Pulsating massage made me open my eyes wide. I immediately brought that thing down to my pussy and let it do its thing.

I came again with that pulsating massage pounding against my little button. The other settings were all pretty meh. Power mist and pulsating massage and who needs any other settings? Oh, well, yeah, I guess rain and power rain are pretty good for washing your hair, you know, rinsing off your body. I mean, I do plan to take a shower every now and then and not just to play with myself.

I called my showerhead 'Trey' after this kid we had in school last year. Trey Lott was just so fucking hot and wasn't all dick about it. Of course, he had it bad for Marianne Johnson and never even looked at me. I didn't blame him. I had it bad for Marianne Johnson; she was this gorgeous cheerleader with the long blonde hair and giant boobs.

I threw my new clothes into the washing machine and then had to hurry up and get dressed for work. I got there and changed into my uniform in the bathroom then clocked in.

We were just about dead. So, when Jamie Martin came in with that bitch Cheryl Harris, I could see them. Jamie smiled real big and waved. I gave him a nod and finished up the drive-through order.

Jesus Christ, I wanted so bad spit in his bean burrito and two double decker tacos. I wanted spit in that bitch's Nachos Supreme.

Really? I wanted to cry. I loved Jamie Martin and I really thought he loved me too. I mean, shit, I sucked his dick on our first date. He was handsome and funny and kissed real good too.

He and that stuck up bitch Cheryl had graduated last year; Jamie was nineteen and I think Cheryl was twenty and I ran into him at the library and that's how I found out he was real smart. He was looking for this book called 'A Wrinkle In Time' and the librarian was telling him it wasn't due back in for another three days.

"You reading that for college?" I asked him.

"Hey! How you doing, Debbie?" he asked me, smiling real big.

He remembered my name. And, no, he wasn't looking for that book for some college class; he was working at CareerBuilders, in their Customer Service Department. He was actually wanting to read the book for fun.

Me? I was there because I needed to do a report on some dumb ass migration stuff for a Science class. This was right before I decided to drop out. Jamie helped me find the book I needed, then showed me the same book was in the Audio Book section. I didn't even know the library had an Audio book section.

"Get them both," he said. "That way, you can read along with the cd. Sometimes? Hearing it out loud helps you understand it."

We then went to Frontera's Mexican restaurant on Indian Trail. There's a huge difference between Taco Bell and Frontera's.

In front of my mom's place, we made out. He gave my boobs a nice squeeze and didn't give me a bunch of shit about how tiny they are. I reached down and started rubbing his junk and, why they call it junk? Package, I can kind of understand; you got a dick and some balls so it's kind of like a package deal. But junk?

Anyway, it's dark, and my mom's not even home; I guess Britney's in charge so I'm in no hurry get in because minute I do, Britney's going run off somewhere and I know she ain't changed Gregory's diaper and I sure as shit don't want change it.

Jamie's dick is nice and fat. He's uncircumcised and his foreskin's covering up most of the head of his dick, but I can feel it with my fingers. I guess he's about six, maybe seven inches long; I remember Tracy telling me this joke once; why are girls so bad at math? He held his thumb and finger about an inch apart and said, because they're told that this is six inches. But Jamie really is about six or seven inches long and nice and thick.

Anyway, I bent my head and I'm stroking him and I put my mouth over the head of his dick and licked all around.

He doesn't taste bad. A bunch of the girls at school bitched about how bad some guys taste. It doesn't taste bad. It feels kind of nasty when he's shooting it in my mouth, but the taste is okay.

Then after I sucked his dick, he kissed me again, then fingered my pussy until I came. He reminded me about my books and that's when I remembered, my car was still at the library.

Jamie didn't even get all pissed off about having to drive all the way back to the library. And when we got there, we made out again before I got out of his car and into mine. And again, I forgot my stupid books. Jamie laughed as he gave them to me, and kissed me again.

Our next date I let him fuck me. And again, Jamie kissed me afterward. The back seat of his Toyota sucked as far as having enough room to fuck in. But he really does kiss great. And he's funny and smart and handsome.

"See you around, Debbie," Jamie called out as he and Cheryl leave Taco Bell.

"Uh huh," I said and grabbed the stack of trays off the garbage can.

I don't even remember the movie I wanted to see. Jamie said we would go see it. Then, next day, he called me and told me he'd run into Cheryl Harris; did I remember her? Yeah, I remembered her; little Miss My Shit Don't Stink with her momma's money and nice clothes and her momma's Lexus and I know them titties got to be fake and I hate her red hair; hers is red. Mine is orange, like orange soda orange. And her perfect skin; bet Cheryl's never had a pimple in her life or even a freckle. Yeah, I remember her.

Couple weeks later, after Jamie dumped me for that big old bitch, we were at Mulligan's house; his dad and step-mom were out of town and we're at Mulligan's and Jamie and Cheryl come in. Jamie smiled at me and starts to come over, but Cheryl gives me this ugly face and pulls Jamie to the couch. I made sure Jamie saw me kissing Brian. Brian takes me into Mulligan's sister's room and pulls my jeans off and fucks me. Don't even say a word. Just fucks me.

And before I can even get up, Mulligan's fucking me. Then some other guy I didn't even know was fucking me. Then Gerry Jackson's fucking me.

Nine guys. Nine guys fucked me. Two of them used condoms. The rest of them didn't. And, other than when I kissed Brian? Out in the living room? Not one of them kissed me. Shit, three or four of them didn't even talk. Just stuck their dick in and that was it.

And when I got my jeans back on and left the bedroom, Jamie and Cheryl were gone. I'd done that shit, trying make Jamie Martin all jealous and he didn't even stick around.

About a week later, Barry called me, all pissed off. Jenny, his wife? Said Barry gave her chlamydia. Because she was seven months pregnant, chlamydia could have been real dangerous for the baby. Anyway, she was pissed off at him and Barry said I was the only slut he'd fucked since he and Jenny got married.

Really? I don't even remember fucking Barry, but I guess I did. So I had to go get treated for chlamydia and had to tell them all the guys I'd fucked. The ones I remembered.

They traced it back to Gerry Jackson. You'd think that asshole would have been sorry about it. Nope. Asshole just laughed about it and said he kind of knew he had it when he'd fucked me.

Two months later, I got an invitation to Jamie's wedding. He was actually going to marry that big titted bitch Cheryl. I tore the fucking invitation up; like I really wanted to see Jamie Martin get married? To someone else?

Then I met Kyle. Made me wet just looking at him. He came into Taco Bell, smiled at me and ordered his food. After he ate, he came back to the counter and asked me for my phone number. I wrote it out for him. I don't know why he asked me for my phone number; he just waited until we closed, and then came back to my trailer with me.

Anal sex hurts. Not a lot; actually, when I lost my cherry, that hurt a lot more. But taking his dick up my bony ass hurt.

I didn't know what he had in mind when he asked me if I had any lube. I mean, shit, my pussy was practically dripping; how much lube did he need? But I found a jar of Vaseline in my bathroom and gave it to him.

I should have figured it out when he had me get on my hands and knees. But I didn't figure it out until he was pushing his dick into my ass. And he was holding onto me real tight; left bruises on my hips where he grabbed me.

"Bad thing 'bout ass fucking? Kind of messy," Kyle said, pulling his dick out of my ruined ass. "Need jump into the shower here."

"Need use the hall bathroom," I said, getting off my bed.

"Naw, bathroom's right here," Kyle said.

"No, need use the one in the hall," I ordered him.

Mother fucker actually pushed me. I got his sperm dripping out my ass and the mother fucker actually pushed me and his sperm dripping out my ass? That was the grossest feeling in the world. Kind of like I had crapped myself. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't squeeze my ass shut tight enough to keep his sperm in there.

"God damn it! I don't want you using my bathroom," I screamed. "Go use the hall one."

I called the police. I mean, shit. This is my house. I got a right. I don't want him using my bathroom, getting his nasty germs all over my bathroom. That's my bathroom. And I really, really don't want him fucking with my showerhead. Trey Lott's mine, God damn it.

When I screamed I was calling the cops, the asshole just laughed at me. The dispatcher was real nice and said someone would be right there. Think they call it 'remaining after being told to leave' or something like that.

And they were right over. Turned out they were over at Mrs. Nagel's trailer; Mr. Nagel had accidentally set off the alarm again and didn't answer the phone when the alarm company tried to call, so they sent the police. So when the call about Kyle trespassing came over, they didn't even hit the siren.

"Aw, you bitch! You fucking bitch! You, I can't believe you really called the fucking police?" Kyle screamed when two police officers came into the bedroom.

"These your pants, sir?" one of the officers asked, picking up Kyle's jeans.

"No," Kyle said, real smart ass. "Look at her. Think they'd fit that flat ass?"

That hurt. A minute ago, he said I had a perfect ass for fucking. But now it's a flat ass.

"So, who's stuff is this?" the officer asked, indicating a corner of a plastic baggy sticking out of one of the pockets on the jeans.

"Shit, I don't know," Kyle said, grabbing for his jeans. "For all I know, 'No-tits' there put that in my pants."

"Uh huh. Get dressed, buddy," the officer said, getting between Kyle and my bathroom so Kyle couldn't run in there real quick and flush that stuff.

I prayed the cop wouldn't get in my bathroom. Bad enough had scrub all of Kyle's germs out of there. Didn't need scrub another set of germs out of there too.

Kyle tried to run. The two cops were ready for that and had him in cuffs before he even got two steps out.

"Fucking bony ass bitch; you was the worst fuck I ever had," Kyle said and spat at me.

So I had to go use the hall bathroom. I mean, shit, fucking asshole spat at me. I don't think he hit me, but still, I had to go wash, just in case. And I couldn't use my bathroom; Kyle's got his germs all over the God damned shower. So I went and used my hall bathroom. Had to use the cheap ass soap and cheap ass shampoo I'd bought for that bathroom, instead of my good soap and shampoo.

After my shower, I got out the Clorox bleach and scrubbed my bathroom. I mean, I scrubbed. But I could still smell Kyle in there. So I turned on the fan and closed the door

Then I sprayed my carpet with carpet foam. Kyle spat at me and I don't know where his spit landed. But I sure don't want be tracking that all over my trailer. So I sprayed the bedroom carpet down real good and got out my vacuum cleaner and cleaned the carpet.

The next morning, I could still smell Kyle in my bathroom, so scrubbed it again. Then I went and took a shower in the hall bathroom.

I got my G.E.D. and Tracy, my manager got me a bottle of Jack Daniel's and I found out, I do not do well with whiskey. Maybe its whiskey and orange soda I don't do well with. After scrubbing my vomit out of my bathroom, I decided I needed to get a handheld showerhead for the hall bathroom too. My bathroom still kind of smells like Kyle, and now it smells like puke too.

Oh, and get this. I found out, that Kyle asshole? He's married. And his wife? Think she's mad at Kyle? Nope. She's mad at me for calling the cops on her asshole husband. Said she was coming down to the Taco Bell to kick my ass. But she never did show up.

But now I got a G.E.D. and I signed up to take some classes to maybe learn some stuff about plumbing. I can't help but think, if I can put in showerheads, maybe I can do other kind of stuff too.

I did pretty good at the first few classes I took. Okay, some of the physical stuff? I suck at. I don't know who the dick was that tightened them bolts so fucking tight, but I never did get them off. Billy, guy right after me got them off with no problem.

His big gold tooth kind of sparkled when he smiled and said to me, "That's all right, Debbie. You got them loosened up for me, right?"

And at the Tucker Library, I was using their computer to search on line and saw where some maintenance crew for this Buckhead building was looking for a plumber's helper. I thought it couldn't hurt to try, so sent them a resume I typed up real quick and sent it in.

The first interview was over the phone. I was pretty sure I didn't get the job; they asked me a bunch of stuff I didn't know. Then couple days later, they wanted me come in for a face to face interview. And get this. Starting pay was eighteen bucks an hour. More than twice what I'm making at Taco Bell.

Tracy gave me another fifth of Jack Daniel's my last night at Taco Bell. I don't know how he did it, but he got me to suck his dick. I swear I ain't drinking Jack Daniel's no more. Shit makes me stupid and I get sick anyway.

Marta has a stop right in front of the Buckhead building. So, I just drive down to the Doraville station and take the train to Lennox, get on the bus and I'm there. The Peachtree Corners stop is a little bit closer to my trailer,

but my dad's mom lived right by the Doraville Station so I just liked the Doraville one better. I remember going with my Nana down to the airport; we'd take the train all the way down and wait for my dad. He'd come back from wherever he'd been and he'd be all smiles and hugs and we'd ride the train all the way back to the Doraville Station and it's just happy memories for me. Of course, I don't remember it being this dirty back then. Nana died a few years back and my dad lives in Austin, Texas now, but it's still happy memories for me.