Funny Categories:

Funny Bbw Porn Videos

A story of the consequenses of pushing those raging hormones.

Of course, some of us aren't supposed to buy beer for another couple years, so we depend on the kindness of friends, right?" She elbowed Rosa in the ribs.

The older woman laughed. "That sounds good. I haven't had good pescados y papas fritas for a while."

Ernie had joined their little group. "Y'know, that's Ranger terminology. FISH and CHIPS -- it means, Fighting In Someone's House and Causing Havoc In Peoples Streets. Remember that when we munch our badass food, hey?"

Sammy rolled his eyes. "Yessir, Captain." He turned to Rosa. "Captain America here is in the Army Reserves when he's not abusing physics students. You should see his college office. He has a motto on the wall, says: I ONLY PROMISE YOU TWO THINGS: DEATH, AND DESTRUCTION. He's tough with grades."

"Damn straight," Ernie said. "Death and destruction are what comes when you fuck up your calculations, pardon my language. Carpenters have a rule: Measure twice, cut once. I have a rule: Check your work, and again, and again. Then have someone else check it. Out in the real world, failure is not an option. Fail in class instead, and learn to do it right." He sipped from a Gatorade bottle.

Death and destruction are what happens if you fuck with the cartels back home, Rosa thought. Then she thought: home? Guadalajara; Jalisco; Mexico -- they are not 'home' any more. And neither is Tucson, nor Petaluma. What was that old Boll Weevil song? "Looking for a home, gotta find a home." I am just another boll weevil, she thought, and giggled silently.

Just a gaggle of giggles -- chatter, laughter, singing, and exchanges of phone numbers -- all the way to the trailhead.

A few hikers took off right away; they had destinations other than the fish'n'chips parlor. The score of remaining sweaty, tired, hungry, and thirsty adventurers piled into vehicles and drove for refreshments. They commandeered most of the eatery's outside tables. Food and drink flowed.

Rosa shared a table with Dave, Ayesha, and the Sierra Club coordinator and nominal group leader, a pale skinny man in his late twenties wearing worn Columbia trail clothes. He tipped his Seattle Sombrero back on his head. His long walnut hair was tied in a ponytail. His nose was sharp and menacing.

"Hi, I'm Steve Parker. Sorry I didn't get to talk to you earlier, Rosa. You thinking of being a regular with us? Glad to have you. Just because we're Sierra Singles, doesn't mean you can't bring real close friends. Some of these guys are married. To each other, even." He waved at the other tables. "There's no dues, but we're always open to contributions. Hey Juanita, mas cervesa, por favor, s__?" he called to a passing waitress. "Beer sure goes fast, don't it? Slides right down."

"Steve's, like, our general manager," Ayesha said, sipping an Anchor Steam even darker than her skin. "When he's not selling electric components, he plays slide trombone with local bands."

"Yeah, just a bit of the old in-out, in-out," Steve leered, with exaggerated air-trombone gestures near his crotch. Groans, whistles, and catcalls rang out from nearby tables. "Sorry I can't hang around, got a gig tonight. Hey, at least the Sunday night crowd doesn't get too drunk. Usually." He quaffed his beer, slapped down green cash, and walked off. "See y'all next week."

"Don't let him fool you," young Sammy said from an adjacent table. "His brass ensemble plays classical chamber music at St Rose's parish hall every Sunday evening." He sipped his illegal amber beer. "And he knows how to drink. That's why he rides the bus home."

Dave waved his legal root beer mug. "You can tell the designated drivers; we get A&W instead of Anchor Steam. Cops around here have no sense of humor."

"You want to know the rules about drinking and driving in Mexico? Pretty simple," Rosa said.

2019 © xfun.mobi. All Rigths Reserved. All models were 0ver 18 y.o.