Booger

On a web site, someone asked the question: Have you ever popped a girl and then saw her several years later and she made you want to puke?

I posted a story about a girl and some seemed to enjoy it so I will put it here for those that do not frequent that web site.

Back when I was in high school I would bang pretty much anything with a vagina and a set of lung warts. One particular girl, Kimberly McCellan -- aka: Booger -- was very unattractive. She had a pig nose, wore glasses, had some messed up choppers, a mullet and easily topped the scales out at over 200 +. Looking back, I’m pretty sure she was mildly retarded because I can’t remember a single intelligent conversation I had with her. One particular conversation that I remember the most is when she asked me if I ever got “poop” on my hand when wiping, and, if so, did I ever smell it. She was indeed quite strange.

She was my don't-tell-booty call. This is how the relationship started:

She lived in this shack of a home with her older sister and their mother. Her father had been a garbage man until he was killed when a cable on his garbage truck broke and severed his jugular vein. My dad knew Mr. McCellan as he was known in these parts as "Goat Man". He always kept a yard full of goats and hogs. He wasn’t a farmer, but he made a little extra cash to support his alcoholism by selling hogs and goat milk. One of my dad’s favorite stories is about the time he went over to Mr. McCellan's to purchase a hog and witnessed Goat Man fighting a goat. Apparently, the goat had rammed Goat Man and he had decided he was going to teach it a lesson. He hopped on a tricycle that he had fashioned into a goat rammer and started a ramming fight with the goat. My father said this went on for about 15 minutes until finally the goat gave in and stumbled off -- lesson learned.

Anyway, the mom was extremely overweight, so much so that she rarely left the home. A few times a year my parent’s church would help out a poor family and my father would always make me help. I guess he thought it was supposed to teach me some type of valuable lesson about how it sucks to be poor. For the most part they helped out families around the holidays; buy toys for kids that Santa wouldn’t visit, buy a Thanksgiving dinner for a family in need, yard work -- stuff like that. This particular case, the family they decided to help out was Booger's.

As most of you know, my father is a retired police officer, but what some of you may not know is that he is also decent handyman. He can fix pretty much anything that breaks around the house (dishwashers, washing machines, toilets, etc.) and he can also build stuff; decks are his forte, so when Ms. McCellan informed my father’s church that she was in need of a deck with a wheelchair ramp, my dad was more than happy to help out.

The deck building started in late December and it was cold, really cold. I, of course, was being the whiny little bitch that I am when it comes to manual labor and my father was being his typical hardassed self, so we were butting heads. I was telling him that it was too cold to be outside working and he was asking me if my little boy pussy was bleeding.

Booger's older sister must have heard us because she stepped outside and asked if we would like some hot coco. I jumped at this offer as if I were a Jew in Auschwitz being offered some stale bread. While I was in their home warming up, Booger walked over to the table and sat down across from me. We had some small talk and then she asked if I would sign her year book. The year book was in her bedroom so we walked back there. 5 minutes later she was face down and I was taking a trip down the tuna tunnel. From that point on, Booger became my regular booty call. When I was in a dry spell or just needed someone to take some of my frustrations out on, I'd call Booger. I fucked her in several locations, but our favorite spot was this old saw mill that was about a mile from my home because it was secluded and well insulated. Booger would put-out anytime and anywhere.

About 6 months ago I saw here in Wal-Mart. She, like her mother was (I think she is dead now) is extremely overweight. She was riding in one of those fat carts that all Wal-Mart’s have and I avoided her like she was Black Death, and, yes, I wanted to puke when I thought back to the many times I rolled in her bulldog lip.