Archive | April 22, 2011

A Night Out With The Preacher’s Daughters: Part III

Here’s a link to Part I and to Part II of A Night Out With The Preacher’s Daughters.

Part III

After our night out in Jackson, and then our adventures on the way home, it took us a full twenty-four hours to recover.  I finally got out of bed around seven the next night, but it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that we all had recovered enough to actually piece together the events that had happened that Friday night/Saturday morning.  While we were all barely alive and sitting in the living room moaning and aching from the hangovers from hell, my sister sat up to say something.

She asked if we remembered the very cute and young-looking thin guy wearing jeans and a baseball cap.  We said we sort of remembered.  Our brains were still rerouting connections from all the brain cells we killed.  She went on and said that when she kissed him, well, he had very soft lips and she didn’t think that he was a he.  Oh My God!

HW and I started rolling laughing.  My sister kissed a girl!  Now, she didn’t realize this until Sunday afternoon.  She said she had suspicions while she was dancing and kissing him/her, but she just thought he was a very young and cute guy.  Go sis!  Get your girl on!  I was so proud and amused at the same time.  My sister knows that I’ve had sexual experiences with women, but she’s always had a men-only policy.  Part of why it was so funny was because when she told us she had this really confused and bewildered look on her face.  We could tell she really had just realized that she had kissed, and not just kissed, basically made out with, a GIRL.  I wonder if she was wearing cherry Chapstick…

After my little sister shared that little tidbit of information we changed her ringtone to “I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Perry.  We also changed our ringback tones to that song so that when she called us she had to listen to it over and over again.  Muahahahaha!  Eventually she threatened to never call us again.

I’d like to dedicate the following song to my little sister, Fallen Angel.

The end, for now.

P.S.  I just realized that today is Good Friday.  What better way to start the Easter weekend than with an awesome story of drunken debauchery, tag-team sex, lesbianism, and hangovers.  Sometimes, I do love my life.

I’d also like to thank my sister (Fallen Angel) and HW for reminding me of some of the details while I was there this past week.  I couldn’t have done it without them.  I’ve killed a lot of brain cells over the years and I need all the help I can get.

A Night Out With The Preacher’s Daughters: Part II

Here’s a link to Part I of A Night Out With The Preacher’s Daughters.

Part II

What happens in the van stays in the van.

My van was an old maroon Dodge Caravan with a non-working radio, a “Jesus” tag on the front, and one of those Christian fish things on the rear window.  It wasn’t your typical or ideal party mobile, but we made good use of it.  Admittedly this was not my first time driving under the influence, but it is something that I’ll never do again.

On the way out of the bar, HW (Horse Whisperer) grabbed some guy that needed a ride home and he ended up in the van with us.  While driving him home I turned around and saw that he & HW were fucking in my back seat.  Then HW yells for my sister to come back there and help her out.  Help her out?  With what?!  I remember thinking, good Lord what’s wrong with these girls?  (Then I remembered that I was the instigator of the entire drunken night and just decided to go with it.)  My sister then climbed into the back seat with them.  That was my first time viewing tag-team sex (not to be confused with threesomes).  Tag-team sex is not for me, but it sure was interesting to witness.

The guy asked me several times, even pleading at one point, to join in, but I just told him that I was just the driver and that’s all I’d be doing, driving.  I probably wasn’t doing a very good job at that anyway, but that was my story and I stuck to it.  Ok, I did reach back at one point, to shut him up, and grabbed his cock.  I yelled out, “Good grief, is that as hard as that thing is going to get?!”  He had a decent sized cock, but it was only half erect.  How were they even having sex back there?  I later found out that there wasn’t much intercourse actually going on due to his temporary erectile dysfunction.

Remember, my radio didn’t work, so I could vividly hear everything that was going on in the back seat.

HW yelled for me to stop so that she could get into the front passenger seat so I pulled over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.  HW got out of the sliding side door and my sister stayed in the back with Snake.  I call him Snake because that’s what he reminded me of.  He was 40-ish, skinny, shaved head, covered in tattoos and not that attractive, but then again I was drunk and didn’t really get that good of a look at him.  He looked to me like he just came from a Skinhead or KKK meeting.  That alone was enough to scare me to the point where I just wanted to get him home and out of my van as soon as possible.

When I stopped for HW to get into the front seat she just stood by the front passenger door for a minute.  She said, “Oh my Lord, I don’t have any pants on!”  She didn’t have any underwear on either.  I kept yelling at her to just get in, but we all thought it was hilarious that she was standing on the side of the road with nothing on but a shirt.  Looking back it was pretty funny.  I mean how many times do you get to see one of your friends drunk and standing on the side of the road by an old beat up Jesus minivan with no pants or underwear on?  It was priceless.

We finally got HW back in the van and then got Snake home.  This was no easy feat because he was just as drunk as the rest of us and could barely remember how to get back to his own house.  It was in the middle of nowhere on some little back country dirt road.  As soon as I stopped the van they flung open the sliding door and pushed him out of the van butt-ass-naked, holding his clothes in a pile in front of him.  As we laughed and watched his bare ass walk toward his trailer, clothes in hand and in front of his crotch, a girl came out of the front door and started walking towards him.  My sister yells “Go, Ginger, go! We’re gonna get shot!”  HW however wanted to stick around and see what the girl was going to do to him.  The mystery girl didn’t seem angry when she came out, but you never know about these backwoods “Deliverance” types sometimes.  I decided to follow my sister’s advice. During those few seconds when my foot was headed to the pedal, I had a flashback of all my afternoons spent watching the Dukes of Hazzard.  I hit the accelerator as hard as I could, spun around leaving a cloud of dust behind me, and sped away.  Yeehaw!  I felt my blood pumping, my heart pounding, and my flight or fight reflexes kicking in.  It was the best adrenaline rush I’ve ever felt.  As I turned on to the main road I screamed out, “That was fun! Let’s do it again!”

Just three good ol’ girls having a good ol’ time.

To be continued…

A Night Out With The Preacher’s Daughters: Part I

I’m not sure if this story proves or disproves the stereotype that preacher’s daughters are wild sexual creatures, but it sure is a good one.  Either way I’m just telling it like it happened.  I’ll let you be the one to decide if either I’m the stereotypical bad girl preacher’s daughter who led my sister astray, or if she too is a stereotypical bad girl preacher’s daughter.  One thing is certain, when we are both single and she was not an unwed mother and we went out on the town, together, we were the true definition of trouble.

I had to break this story down into three parts because it was just too long for one post and I didn’t want to have to sacrifice any of the details.

Part I

I just got back from visiting my little sister who lives about three hours upstate from me.  She recently found a trailer to rent that is close to her friend Horse Whisperer’s place.  Horse Whisperer has been my sister’s partner in crime for several years now.  They both got pregnant at about the same time, both by men that are no longer around, and both are true cowgirls.  They love their horses, their kids, and their men, but the men don’t usually stick around as long as the first two.

I started hanging out with my sister and HW the summer after I left my ex-husband in 2008.  My sister was living with HW for a little while after her boyfriend of seven years just decided to walk out on her one day.  So in a show of support I started coming up to visit.  At that time they were both single and free and just wanting to have some fun.  I was the perfect person to help them get into some good old-fashioned trouble.  We talked about everything from men and sex to just catching up on the latest gossip.

ZZ Top in concert

Image via Wikipedia

We had a few adventures that summer, but the one that we all remember best was the night that we went to Jackson for a ZZ Top concert.  We never made it to the concert because it was supposed to rain and they didn’t want to be out in the rain.  Instead we went to a big nightclub that was having and 80’s tribute band playing that night.  When we arrived it was almost empty and being the party-starter that I am, I bought us a round of tequila shots.  It was hilarious trying to teach my little sister how to do a shot of tequila:  lick hand, salt hand, lick salt, shoot, suck lime.  Of course I’m hardcore and I just skip the salt and go straight for the tequila.  She’s a blond.  Maybe I forgot to mention that.  I pick on her about it, probably too much.

After we all did our shots we went and sat down on a bench that was to the side of the stage, but it was a good tactical position because we would be able to have a good view of all the guys and the band.  Plus we could stand on top of it if needed.  Yes, it’s dangerous to attempt when drunk, but so much fun.  My sister’s shot immediately kicked in and she started giggling incessantly, we couldn’t say a word without her laughing.  I decided she needed water ASAP.  We practically force-fed her a bottle of water to try to sober her up a little.  It worked temporarily.

We all ended up getting so drunk that at one point they were sending me to get drinks and when I’d get back with drinks in hand there would be a guy or two or three standing there with more drinks for us.  I finally just gave up and let the guys bring us our drinks.  I remember talking to a few guys that night, but I wasn’t really interested in any of them.  Most of the guys there were probably at least ten years younger than me, and I just wasn’t ready to be a cougar at that point. I’ve not had many good experiences with guys younger than myself.

So I kind of just hung out on the bench, dancing a little, but mostly standing on it to keep an eye on my sister and HW.  The more I drank, the more I danced.  I watched as my sister danced with random guys, some very cute ones too.  This was the first time that I had ever really seen her drunk.  I don’t think she ever quite recovered from that first shot of tequila.  I almost felt guilty for being such a bad influence, but everyone, even preacher’s daughters, need to let off some steam occasionally.  I do remember seeing her dancing and then kissing a very young-looking thin guy wearing jeans and a baseball cap.  He almost had feminine features, but then again, he just looked really young and cute.  You’ll hear more about him later.

At some point during the concert, while all three of us were on the bench dancing and drinking, three other young girls came over and tried to take over our bench.  That was a BAD idea.  We refused to even budge and kept our places as the queens of the party.  Two of the girls got a little pushy and rude about it, but they finally gave up and moved on.  The third girl decided that her friends were just bitches and told my sister that we were “so cool!”  My sister invited her to join our little party and we showed her how to really have a good time.  Her little friends had to watch from down on the crowded dance floor.  Poor things, they just didn’t have a clue about how to properly crash a group party and then be invited to join in.

We stayed until time for the bar to close.  The lights came on and the band said goodnight.  They announced, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”  Cheesy, yes, but effective.  We should have gone straight home, but that’s just not how we roll.

To be continued…