After me and Daniella's first full day on holiday, I was left absolutely shattered. I drank way more than I should have. I enjoyed some hot, double penetration action with Daniella and the Greek Boy. I got to watch some hot lesbian action between Daniella, Nina the German teacher lady, and Georgina the Greek lesbian with big nipple rings. After which Burkhard and I enjoyed a little oral action when we both came in his wife's mouth. And most importantly I got to help beautiful Daniella work her way through nearly a dozen orgasms and nearly half as many lovers. So, by the time my head hit the pillow at the end of the night, I was done.
God knows how long I was out, but the next thing I remember, I was dreaming that I was back home in California. I was out somewhere in the Mojave Desert. It was a hot and sunny day, and I was driving along in my dream car—a cherry red, 1972 convertible Corvette Stingray—through the endless western landscapes with my arm hanging out the window and the wind rushing through my hair. I was in heaven.
This wasn't the first time I've had this dream. In fact, it had been one of my favourite recurring dreams ever since I was thirteen when my hard drinking Aunt Carol—with her amazingly the big tits and inappropriately low-cut dresses—took me for a long ride in her late, third husband's Corvette. While we drove across Death Valley, she told me, "it's easy for a boy like me to get lucky in a car like this." It took me many years to understand what she meant by 'get lucky' but when I did, the dream only become more intense.
I drove on through the shimmering deserts until I came to a hill. I slammed on the gas, and the Corvette shot over the crest like a rocket. The whole car roared and shook with a raw power that I could feel in my bones. Then suddenly there was a hand on my crotch working my balls. I looked down half expecting to see my aunt's hand, but instead it was a thin woman's hand. I followed the hand up to find my wife—now my ex-wife—Betty sitting in the car next to me. It was her, but from years ago before we got married and made each other miserable.
She smiled at me with cherry red lips and sparkling blue eyes, as her long blond hair whipped around in the wind, then suddenly she was naked and so was I. Without bothering to stop the car we collapsed into each other's arms and began to kiss and rub our naked bodies all over each other. The car continued happily rumbling along on its own down the road, as she climbed onto my lap.
Betty's pussy was warm, soft and inviting as I slipped my cock inside. Her and I made love in the bright sunshine, in the front seat of the car as we travelled on down the road—only occasionally stopping to wave at creepy truck drivers and smiling passengers as they passed by.
We continued on like this for miles, but just as I was about to cum, a great odd, red shadow passed over the car. I pulled my head away from young Betty's eager mouth to see that a strange face shaped cloud come into view and blot out much of the sky.
Suddenly I looked around and we were no longer out in the deserts, but somewhere in LA, with its endless traffic passing through some nightmarish zone of endless, nondescript strip malls as far as the eye could see. Also, we were no longer in the Corvette, but in that damn two-tone minivan she made me purchase last year for her shitty mobile dog grooming business that she never put any time into.
Betty crawled off my lap and instantly aged ten years. "There it is," she pointed to a beige stucco building sandwiched between a thousand other beige stucco buildings, "Park the van there," she commanded.
I was no longer in control of the minivan. It jerked hard to the left and crashed through a small hedge into an empty, darken parking lot. The sun had disappeared before the minivan came to a screeching halt in front of an old defunct shop now turned evangelical church. The windows were covered in a cheap mirrored tint which gave everything inside a sickly green hue.
"We're here!" Betty smiled. "Time to give us a baby."
"What? No! We're divorced. I'm not giving you a baby," I complained.
The minivan was gone, and we stood outside the building in the darkness as the summer heat radiated off the black asphalt of the parking lot. Above the main shop window to the old store was a beat-up painted on sign that read "The Hands of God Church," while in the corner a red neon sign slowly blinked, "All sacrifices welcome."
I knew the place from when Betty found God a couple years back and made me go to church with her here once. Inside the air was horribly stale and hot given their AC was perpetually broken. The church itself consisted of a large multipurpose room divided in half. Up front there sat a beat-up pulpit, a folding card table on wheels with a white tablecloth thrown over it that doubled as a collections table, and a giant homemade wooden cross made by someone's kid. In back, in place of actual pews, there were just several rows of beat-up plastic folding chairs for the congregation to sit, watch the weird shows, and to find god—poor bastards.
Betty had changed into a long flowing, white, semi translucent, silk night gown, while I remained naked. We stood at the front of the room while a sea of grey, ashen faced evangelical men slowly poured in. Each one greeted Betty by speaking to her in tongues and by running their meaty hands up the front of her silk gown to touch her blond pussy. They then would give me the evil eye before taking their seats.
"Praise Jesus!" boomed the voice of the Preacher from behind the pulpit. He was a greasy middle-aged man in an off color white button up dress shirt and a black tie, with a broad Texas accent, and the look of a used car salesman. "Praise Jesus! We are all here today because we are all sinners. Can I get an amen?"
"Amen!" the congregation shouted back.
"Praise Jesus!" replied the Preacher.
"Praise Jesus!" the congregation replied.
