Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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Am I Finally Home? Please? Please, Let Me Be Home. . .

cracktrailer has infected me. With what, I'm not sure. . .but be careful, it seems to be extremely infectious. I think we should all be quarentined.

It's all knotted_rose's fault.

And I did not grow up with these boys. I did not date them. I do not know what it's like to be kissed by a guy that's got a wad a chew under his lip. I have never had sex in the front seat of a truck parked out behind the bowling alley and considered that a good date. . . And the cops did not come up and shine a very, very bright light in the window just as. . .

No. None of that has ever happened.

Shut up.

I only know that ALL day long, all I've been thinking of is how *my* Dave fits into this crack!world. . .

My Crack!Trailer Dave is the high school's starting quarterback. He's built for it. Tall, strong, huge hands, the thighs of a god. On the field he moves with grace and speed, when he's not out there though, he can be slow and clumsy. He has a full ride scholarship coming up at the state college as long as he doesn't get injured in his last season. But he knows that even if he does leave this shit~hole town for a few years, he'll end up back here. Running the shop with his dad. End up a good ol' boy. End up dying without knowing who he could have, should have been.

His father owns the town's only used car dealership, which means that Dave's family has more money than most, but, as all car salesmen are *suspect* and used car salesmen are *hated*. . .Dave's family exists in a kind of no man's land. Not good enough or rich enough to hang out and/or be invited to the rich kid's houses and parties, but too well off to belong with the trailer park kids. And those are the people that Dave *wants* to be included. To him, they are independent and reckless, tough and real. He's not stupid, he knows that they are dirt poor, that their lives are hard, full of hurt and anger. That they will never get out of this town. That most will end up in jail, some will die before they hit thirty and he doesn't care. He envies their tight bonds, their acceptance of each other and he covets the brutal, abusive love they share.

He wears white Hanes wife~beaters under the Izod polo shirts his parents make him dress in for school. Before the first class begins though, he's taken it off and thrown it behind the seat of his car. His jeans are comfortably worn and the denim is soft, same with the black leather motorcycle jacket that he pulls on everyday. His feet are covered in scuffed, dirty biker's boots.

He drives too fast, cruises the town every night, never does any of the homework from school. He knows that as long as he keeps passing the winning touchdowns, his grades are covered. He takes the head cheerleader to school dances and movies and fucks the trailer park alpha~bitch afterwards. He smokes Marlboro Reds, even though they cut down on his speed when he plays and he drinks Bud out of the bottle whenever he can cage a sixer out of his parent's fridge or score some from Jimmy, the one guy in town that you can get anything from; beer, smokes, weed or whatever.

Jimmy. The son of the town's preacher. Scarily beautiful, terrifyingly psychotic. Dave is so attracted to him he can't stand straight whenever they happen to end up in the same place. He has to slouch and bend a bit, try to hide the rock hard erection that Jimmie's presence always creates.

He remembers the night it happened, the night he'll never forget. Dave was drunk, completely tanked. Had just left Faith's. She had passed out after riding him like he was a bucking bronc. Damn, even drunk and strung out on whatever drug she had found that day, she could fuck him for hours.
But now he was heading home, or attempting it. The twelve pack he'd drunk was catching up with him fast and he had to pull over and piss like a race horse.

He pulled off the road, turned off his lights, practically fell out the door and staggered around to the other side. Planted his feet wide, unzipped his pants, whipped out his dick, arched his back and closed his eyes. Beer pisses always seem to take forever and he almost fell asleep standing up, waiting for the stream to finish. When it finally did, he turned back to his car, tucking and zipping and there he was. Jimmie. Leaning against his door. A cigarette hanging out of his lips.

Well. Not like thinking about Dave all day is something new for me. . .

Now. Off to swim in the sinfully hot RPS that stir_of_echoes and I are having a dalliance with. . .


I love this place.
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