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Archive-name: Casual/southpea.txt

Archive-author: Celestine Henley

Archive-title: Southern Peach

     The day was hot and humid like any others in the South, where

the air was so infested with odors and sweat you actually had to

swim through it.  And clothes, heck, it was minimal while it clung

to you like a wet towel.  It was 101 degrees with a humidity of 100

per cent, or at least, that was what it felt like.  I was being

boiled right on my seat in this supposedly air conditioned

hamburger joint that was called, "Art's Burgers"--the sign was

vandalized and now said, "Art's Bugers."  

     I had been invited by my friend Chris to visit his folks and

see the South, which he promised would be "a whole boot'n fun."  So

far, all there had been was a soak-fest, a slimy burger that I

thought moved, and supreme boredom.  

     I asked myself, "Why am I here?"

     I answered, "Waiting for Chris."

     "Okay, but why did decided to come to Georgia in the first


     "Because Chris asked."

     "Okay, but why is Chris late?"

     "I don't know, maybe he got hit by a Confederate soldier and

got mowed down.  Just shut up and enjoy your burger."

     So I shut up and tried my best to enjoy the greasy burger. 

When I say greasy, I mean, oil was dripping out of the burger. 

Better yet, the grease looked like 10W/40 after 3000 miles. 

Finally disgusted with the foul taste, I spate out the single bite

I took out of the most disgusting food that I had ever attempted to

eat.  Instead, I quaffed down the flat Coke.  Here I was in a

little itty-bitty town called Sunrise(or something like that) in

the middle of nowhere, past trying to finish Art's Buger, and horny

as hell.  The latter was noted with distinction.   I think it was

the heat.

     I looked out.  Chris was not there yet.  For that matter,

there was nobody outside...just a two dogs biting each others'

heads off and making a racket.  So I examined the insides of the

modest resort called "Art's Bugers."  It was red.  I mean, CHERRY

RED; it was decked out in the fifties motif, with the jukebox and

the checkered floor.  If it got any more sickening cliche, I was

probably living in a cartoon.  And judging by the good taste of the

populace, I was the only customer at 1:13PM.  Precisely.  

     There was Art, a frail looking chef with grey stubble and a

unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.  There was

the was sweet looking Mrs. Art Bugers, who had so kindly served me

earlier the black plague, and there was J'Belle, their daughter. 

And she was looking mighty fine to me at that moment, hungry as I


     She was at most sixteen and her short body was a bountiful

harvest.  As a southern adage usually interjected at any

conversation regarding the weaker sex, made up instantly by such a

southern gentleman with that funny drawl, "I'd reckon she's shapely

lahhhhhk a gip cow on moonshine."  Whatever it meant, I wanted to

say that she was contoured like the Alps from head to toe; her

sunny hair was tied behind in a tail; she wore a sunny smile that

said everything in the world and her blue eyes, or as the accent

goes, "aaahhhs," were adorable.  I wanted to eat her for breakfast,

lunch, dinner, and then some.  Finally, I made up my mind.

     I beckoned J'Belle over and asked for some more Coke.  As she

was reaching for my glass, I pulled her close and said.  "Dear, I'm

absolutely in love with you, you gorgeous little thing.  How about

a kiss?"  I then patted her rump with a teasing pinch.  She blushed

bright red, frozen for the moment, standing there not sure of what

to say or do.  I was sure every sane guy passing this young minx

passed off a pass like the one I made to this absolutely yummy dim

sum, but I was sure never by a woman.  I sat there smiling my most

sincere smile, licking my lips in anticipation.  

     Now, I'm no dyke.  But I do enjoy the company of little girls

and genteel women.  As well, I've always wanted to say something

like that in front of a total stranger.  And like I said, I was

hornier than a toad in spring.  (Whatever that means.)  The heat

does that to you.

     J'Belle closed her eyes and turned her back with my cup and

headed for the counter.  She told her mother my order and headed

for the Women's Bathroom(or the Water Closet as they say in

England).  I smiled.  All the better!  I followed her into the


     As I entered the dirty little back-room, complete with the

smell of Lysol and crust on the ceiling, J'Belle was leaning on the

single white sink in the room.  She jumped when she saw me enter. 

Her eyes widened.  But she remained silent.  I walked slowly up to

her so as not to scare her off and put my hands around her

enviously slim waist.  Drawing her close, I smelled the fries she

was making, but that scarcely discouraged my game.  I had to pull

her up slightly, but I did manage to seal our lips with a soft,

tender kiss.  Her first resistance melted away and was replaced a

curious anticipation.  I was lost in J'Bell's pair of lush, full

lips.  They were so juicy and tasty.  I could have kissed her for

hours!  I wanted to eat her whole, starting with those strawberry

lips.  But I had other plans in mind.  

     J'Belle was lost in her own dream world as I said to her,

"J'Belle dear, why don't you take a seat in this nice stall over


     She nodded dumbly and sat.  I closed the stall door.  Though

it was a tight fit, I could still manoeuvre around.  "Now, J'Belle. 

I want you to close your eyes and relax.  That's right, dear."

     My hands flew over her body and ruffled through her frilly

uniform, feeling her soft curves.  She was no Plainsman, rather,

more a Rockies person.  Her cute floral underwear was what I was

after.  I stripped it off carefully and was rewarded with a muffled

gasp that she quickly silence with a swallow.  In a couple minutes,

I had her hiccupping with pleasure.

     I would like to believe that we both left the bathroom wiser

and more content.  Actually, more like she became a bit more wiser

and I, a bit more content.  But it amounted to the same thing, did

it not?

     I went back to my table and lit a cigarette, and puffed away

like a whore after trick.  Wait.  That is the other way around, but

you get the idea.  J'Belle came by and placed the Coke gently in

front of me.  She had a Cheshire grin and her bright eyes twinkled

merrily.  J'Belle even gave me a shy wink before she went back to

frying her french fries.  I snuffed out my cigarette and enjoyed

the euphoria of the significance of life, of meeting new people and

sharing with them what little I possessed.  It is a really good

feeling to know that you may have done some good for another

person, and frankly, I had a blast.  

     I looked back outside as a light blue Chevy truck pulled up. 

Chris the Priss was here.  He came in with a courteous nod to the

owners of Art's Bugers and hurried over to me with an apologetic

face.  "Sorry, Cel.  But I ran into an old friend getting here.  I

mean, ran into him.  He wasn't too happy but he'll live."  he said

smiling weakly. 

     "No problem, Chris.  C'mon.  Let's go see your big plantation

house!"  I replied excitedly.

     Going out the door, I heard J'Belle call out, "Now y'all come

back soon, Miss."

     I turned and waved to her in the affirmative and returned her

a coy wink.

     Art's Bugers may taste like shit, but Art's daughter was the

sweetest southern peach I've ever tasted.  I turned to Chris and

said, "I don't know about their burgers."

     He chuckled as we got into his truck.

     "...but I would definitely come back for a wedge of their

scrumptious Georgian Peach Pie."


                      Celestine Henley's Anecdotes / Southern Peach 

     This is paraphrased from the wonderful storyteller Celestine

Henley, whose acquaintance I have recently made.  I don't know if

her little stories belong here, but sometimes they tend to run on

the "risque" side.  If this is too, as the term goes, "vanilla" for

this group, please redirect me to a better place to post.  As well,

I would like to hear what people think of the stories.  If people

like them, please tell me and I'll keep writing them down.  If not,

just tell me and I will not waste any future bandwidth.  Thanks.


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