Message-ID: <58690asstr$1236766201@assm.asstr.org>
From: B-Guy  <B-Guy_member@newsguy.com>
User-Agent: Direct Read News 5.16
Subject: {ASSM} Slow Down, Give 'Em A Brake  (mf, cons, violence, drugs)
Lines: 183
Date: Wed, 11 Mar 2009 06:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"Slow Down, Give `Em A Brake" by B-Guy    (mf, cons, violence, drugs)

Bill leaned on his shovel.  "Here comes the Daisy Dukes" Clay said. "Hmmm hmm"
Ned agreed.  Bill pulled another Nicotine lozenge from his pocket and popped it.
He pulled his work gloves back on and resumed leaning.  At 10am on I-355 it was
still breezy and cool in spite of the early summer sun.  Palombini Contruction
Crew #11 had all summer to repair 5 miles of barely warn toll road.  Illinois
was a union run state, and they had the baddest union around.  People complained
about the summer slowdowns, so a couple years ago they started sending out
"Daisy Dukes".  Girlfriends, daughters, semi-pro rainbow girls who were paid
well to strut about in tight jeans holding a "Slow Down - Give `em a Break"
sign.  After that, complaints went way down and crews remained 95% male even in
2009.  Chicago politicians protected their union rackets, and had for decades.

The Daisy Duke girls were strictly hands off.  They were appointed by local
union bosses that encamped all afternoon in various dark restaurant bars around
the area. Everyone knew this.  Inevitably some fool would get drunk and paw one
up in the port-a-john. That person reported in sick the next day.  It is ironic
how badly one's family members could be hurt and still not affect your ability
to swing a shovel.

Today's Dukes was a 22 year old wholesome looking brunette.  She sported long
hair, an early summer tan, and a Cubs hat.  Dukes was getting honks from the
drivers. She wore tight jeans and a t-shirt under her orange safety vest.  She
liked to smile at the bumper-to-bumper cars gaping at her.
 
She chatted with the workmen during one of their endless brakes.  Bill heard it
this way: "Blah bah blah, blab la blab la bla blahh.  Tee he he he".  From
experience, Bill's brain ran her speech through a coffee filter that spat out a
cup of "Hi, I'm a Vicodin addict!" and "Tony lets me drive his 450SL. La la la."
Bill just smiled at her.  Clay was shaking his head.  She sniffed at her arm
pits.  It was oddly seductive.  The oblivion of drugs made her actually pleasant
to have around.  Bill took another look at her eyes and had a bad thought enter
his head.

"Oh, no."  Clay said stiffly, "Heads up. Here comes a meat wagon."   They were
all alert now except Daisy, who chewed gum and looked at her tan lines.  A `meat
wagon' is a slang term for murder victims being covertly transported for
disposal.  The wagon took many forms, but generally it was something that needed
offloading.  Y-barriers, Port-o-jons, water barrels,  something.  Bodies were
loaded on at a remote site.  Each was washed in mild solvent. Each was missing
both its head and hands.  They were buried in the quicklime cement of the road
bed in a choreographed act so sophisticated, it would rival Siegfried and Roi.  
Corpus delicti? No problemo.

Daisy Dukes  naively walked over and chatted with Mickey, the meat wagon truck's
driver.  Pretty soon she was leaning into the cab. "Uh oh" Bill said.  "Whuh?"
Clay answered looking up. "Titty troubles" Bill said nodding toward the pair of
them.  Mickey got out and was sizing up her round ass.  He walked and talked her
back behind the large lift gate truck.  He lowered the gate and boosted her up
to sit on it. Mickey continued chatting, but was now at eye level with her
business.

This truck was an impressive disguise.  From the road, it looked like you could
see through the railed sides of the bed.  It looked like it carried a load of
perhaps road fill, or gravel or something, but it was an optical sham.  What
really lay between those rails was completely hidden.  It was actually a narrow
open space with a corpse under a weighted tarp.  Daisy sat on the lift gate
flirting with Mickey.

Ned picked up on it too and walked over to Bill.  Bill pretended to bend some
rebar. "This could go one of two ways" Bill said, "both of them bad for
someone's health." Secretly thinking `probably ours as well'.   Mickey sucked a
toothpick smiling and leaned on the gate.  He was flirting with the tootsie who
was now applying zinc oxide to her nose.

"Clay, I'm going to take a chance.  Call in 224.  Ask them to hustle.  Ned, lift
some Y-rails in front of that cab.  If I'm wrong at least we can say we were
just being careful.  They might let us keep our teeth." Bill said chewing his
words. "I think you right Bill.  I on it" Clay drawled.

Sure enough.  Within 10 minutes, they no longer saw Mickey's feet under the back
of the truck.  Bill tapped his watch nervously.  Clay came and stood near him
anxiously.

Mickey had his hands under the perch's t-shirt and was pinching her numby tits
through the bra.  "And that's when I had it pierced" Mickey was saying to her.
"Does it hurt?" she asked in a fog. "Nahh nahh" he said while sliding one hand
down her pants, "It excites it and makes it really hard".  "I can't wait to feel
it" she said.  She pulled her t-shirt off and unclasped her bra.  She pillowed
them under her head.  With the lift gate closed they were invisible to the road.
The roar of the cars and trucks made the bed shake and the air howl in their
ears.

Mickey struck button and she began to ease into it. "Whew yeah! Rub it Mickey,
RUB IT!" she said as he diddled her.  She unbuttoned her jeans and split the
zipper down.  He got below her and slid them down her comfortably wide pelvis. 
Her stretched white panties were spotted with damp.  She smelled fresh and
clean.  The lesbian fling tattoo most girls her age had was drawn just below her
bikini line. Proudly enduring, but ironically hidden.
 
She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and would not let go.  Her arm pulled him
to her and she rose up to dig.  She gazed in his eyes blearily while unfastening
his pants.  His stiff peen jutted out of his black mesh man-thong.  He did not
smell so fresh.  The head of his dick had been pierced. A large bar-bell with
two rather large balls hung under the lip of his prick head.    She flicked her
hand over it.  "Gently baby, gently" he winced.  She played with the jewelry and
rubbed the pre-cum off his tool.  Mickey felt her hair surround him as she went
down.   She let out a huge vulgar slurp.  `What a tongue' he thought. `This
chick is high as a kite'. He fingered her abused, sun-damaged tits while she
sucked him.

An orange glint pulled Bill's eyes up from the rebar.  A large company colored
truck was pulling into the isolated construction lane.  It was well off and
moving very slowly down the line at them.  Ned made eye contact from inside the
cab of his loader and nodded. He pulled up with a tall palate of Y-rails and
parked it between the road and the meat wagon's cab.  The three men assembled
there.

Mickey had her legs up kneeling.  He plowed the not-so-innocent 22 year old with
gusto. "Feel it baby? Feel it up there inside you?" he called. "Yes Mickey, give
to me harder" she said and gripped her fingers into the tarp.  "Uh, fuck me!"
she called.  The tattooed Mickey plunged his barbed spike forward.  She had cunt
lips that hung apart, like he was fucking a roughly sawed beef roast.  He was in
full bore mode.  His meth-red face was full of strain.

The ragdoll's well dilated vagina began to cum.  "Ahhh ahhhh bubbles!" she
moaned and writhed about in a spasm.  Her hands slid about madly.  One came
under the blue tarpaulin and touched something very cold. Very cold, and wet.  
She slowed and let Mickey build his orgasm as her finger traced a one inch round
flat rough surface.  Her mind wandered as Mickey was having trouble orgasming in
her.  He urgently bucked faster and faster, but his little head was too meth
disconnected from the big head to cum.  Eventually he slowed to catch his
breath.  Dukes fingers came back to her nose and she smelled them.  They had a
bleach smell.

A fat orange water tanker pulled up 100 feet from the back of Mickey's truck. 
Bill was there talking to the driver.  Ned and Clay stood close to the cab of
Mickey's truck.  Suddenly Daisy's head appeared above the lift gate. She was
shrieking.  Bill took a quick look and said "Get moving!" to the tanker.  He
took off running for the lift gate.  She had her hands over the top of the gate
and her nude foot came over.  Ned and Clay were moving now.  Mickey was grabbing
her from the back now and trying to pull her off the gate.
 
The tanker driver hit the jets, and a large plume of water shot out behind the
truck over the roadway.  It was very distracting for the toll road drivers.  The
tanker drove forward between the meat wagon and the road.

When the three men were all at the lift gate,  Bill nodded. Ned hit the lever to
lower it.  The young naked woman was screaming hysterically.  As the gate landed
flat, the cab of the water truck sat next to it with a good view inside while
blocking the view from the road.
 
Dukes was nude and cloying against a struggling naked Mickey who was holding her
inside the bed. She was in tears and shouting wildly "It's a body! I felt it!
It's a dead body. Ahhh ahhh" wailing.  Bill pulled himself up into the bed
holding a piece of rebar.  When Mickey had her clasped, he rained down the rust
colored steel baton on her eggshell brain case.  It cracked open easily.   She
twitched and let out an odd low "luuuuuhhh mum wah" and keeled over.  Mickey
turned pale and started to shake uncontrollably.  He shocked out.   Her frozen
expression was as if she said "Like what? Like huh?".  Her splayed gash began
leaking piss to the bed.   The neck stump of a headless cadaver protruded from
the under the raised tarp. Ned put the lift gate back up.  Bill started covering
both bodies with the tarp.

At 5pm, Bill, Ned and Clay were sitting in a basement room under Captain Radds
Seafood Restaurant.  Sweating.  Five big men in suits listened to their story. 
Apparently Mickey was questioned separately for verification of the details. 
When something did not line up exactly, Mickey had to explain the differences. 
"So basically I'm real sorry what happened Mr. Vitucci" Bill said humbly, "I
felt in my mind that she might not have been on Vicodin, see? But that Ecstasy
instead.  In the back of that wagon, well, she might see something and maybe
lose it.  Well you know the rest" Bill finished dejectedly.

"We've confirmed what happened. You were right, it was Ecstasy she was on. Damn
shame.  So young and pretty.  You had to think pretty fast out there Bill" said
the raspy voiced man with leathery skin. "Don't worry.  Just go home and get
some rest.  Be back at work tomorrow, and if we need anything else.. errr..
we'll be in touch.  But basically, don't worry".  They shook his hand and he
left in a pool of cold sweat.

The next day they were back at mile marker 15 leaning.  At 10am a sporty Latina
Daisy Dukes came up with her warning sign.  At 1pm a new meat wagon pulled up.
Mickey was out sick.  During the afternoon circus, two bodies became a part of
the reinforced embankment.  The three men were silent but keenly aware.  The
overseers were watching them very closely.  At 4:00 they knocked off.  A truck
dropped them at the central hub.

Bill changed in the locker room and donned his street clothes.  He opened his
lunchbox and removed a wallet and car keys.  His car keys?  He held up his
familiar chain, but instead of the silver Chevy key, was a large plastic fobbed
key with the Mercedes logo.   Outside was a used 450SL.   That month, he made
sure to pay his union dues early, and the next, and the next, and the next.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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