Footprints

Sonja was inside the gas station pre-paying our fuel purchase. I was waiting patiently by the pump. A good looking young woman in tight, tight pants and great big titties approached me from her motherfucking German car and said, "Somebody walked right over my car last night. There's footprints on my car."

I went over to her car to have a look. Sure enough there was a set of big men's footprints on her car's white paint. They began at the rear bumper and ended on the front one. The young woman, who was probably looking for a big old Beer fuck but had not seen Sonja with me, stood there flabbergast. I tried to be understanding.

"I hate to admit it but I too have walked over cars. Many of them. If you ever find yourself walking down the road after drinking the right amount of beer - way too much - you might walk over a car one day too. A car looks remarkably like a kid's birthday bouncy castle to someone boozed up enough."

I went back to my car and filled up. The young woman did the same. Sonja came back to the car. "That chick in the white car wanted to fuck you, didn't she?"

"I don't think so," I answered diplomatically. "She wanted to suck my ding-dong dusty."