The Small Town Country GalThe Small Town Country Gal

Amateur

I was making my way back to Dallas from a business trip to East Texas when I decided to stop off at a local country store in a very small town and grab a snack. As I pulled into the gravel-topped drive of the store, I noticed a fairly good looking gal walking down the sidewalk towards the same country store where I had just pulled into to park. I pulled up in front of the store about the same time she walked right in front of my car. I smiled as she looked my way and she smiled back. I love country gals who wear those real tight-fitting jeans and tight fitting shirts and this girl was no disappointment in this regard. She had an hour glass figure and long brown hair. I stepped out of my car and into the store. I could see my beautiful angel over by the soda dispensing fountain. I grabbed a cola from the cooler and made my way to the chip aisle. As I did, my country angel stepped on the same aisle. “Excuse me,” I said as I reached for a bag of chips. “You’re fine,” she replied, grabbing a bag of chips. Out of instinct, I scanned her left hand for a ring. There wasn’t one. I stepped to the side and allowed her to pay for her items, giving me another chance to get a good look at her tight little body. I guess she sensed I was sizing her up, because she glanced back at me and winked. “You’re not from round here are ya?” she asked as the clerk bagged her snacks. “Nah,” I replied, “Just passing through on çankaya escort my way back to Dallas.” “I used to live in Dallas,” she replied, stepping to the side, as the clerk rang up my snacks and I slid my debit card into the card reader. “I like it,” I nonchalantly replied. “So what do you do?” she inquired. “I’m a private investigator,” I replied matter-of-factly. “That so cool,” she replied. “I dated a guy years ago that was a private investigator. Have you ever heard of Paul DeBaggadio?” I had to admit, I did not know anyone by the name. The clerk bagged my snack and handed me the bag. “So do you live around here?” I asked as we walked out the front door of the store. “Yeah,” she replied, “about a mile down the road.” “Well, have a good one,” I replied, stepping towards my car. I was at a loss for words. She had a slight twang to her voice and I didn’t want to push the boundary of respect. “You too sugar,” she replied, as she stepped on to the gravel of the parking lot and towards to two lane roadway. I pulled up next to her just as she started walking the well beaten path in the grass next to the road. I rolled down my window and pulled up next to her. “Do you want a ride?” I asked. It was a pretty warm day. She didn’t hesitate to take me up on my offer, pulling open the passenger side door and slipping into the bucket seat next to me. “What’s your name?” she asked. rus escort “Rick,” I replied, as I turned on to the black top. “I’m Tammy,” she replied. “I really appreciate the ride.” “Where to?” I asked. “Anywhere you want,” she replied. I glanced in her direction. “I really don’t want to head back to the house,” she said, “I get bored being there all day by myself.” “You don’t work?” I asked. “Laid off three months ago,” she replied, taking a sip on her fountain drink. “Sorry to hear that,” I replied. So now I had an angel in my car and I was stymied. I didn’t want to be rude and ask her to get out, but at the same time, I wondered where we were heading. “So is there a park or some place around here where we can sit and chat?” I asked. “Myers Park,” she said, “Turn right at the next black top.” I didn’t say anything as I tried to formulate an exit plan. Part of me wanted to just take her home and part of me wanted see what was in those jeans. Just as I turned on the blacktop, I glanced over at my country gal. She smiled. “Are you married?” she asked. “Divorced,” I replied. “What type of idiot woman gave up on you?” she asked. ‘You’re cute.” My ego was now well stoked. The road sign read “Myers Park, Turn right.” I turned on to a tree-lined dirt road. My country gal rolled down the window, allowing her long brown hair to blow freely in the passing breeze. “I love this park,” eryaman escort she said as we rolled down the bumpy, one lane dirt road towards a small rise. As we topped the hill, the land opened up and we pulled into an empty dirt parking lot. A trash barrel sat off to one side, along a row of large oak trees and empty picnic tables. I pulled up next to one of the picnic tables and parked. She opened the passenger side door and rested her outstretched legs on the window ledge, as she reclined the seatback. The top button of her very tight button-down shirt was unfastened and I could easily make out the tops of her gorgeous breasts that were neatly tucked into a white lace bra. “You know what I like about this park?” she asked, looking over at me. I didn’t have the foggiest idea why she liked the park. It was nothing more than a row of shade trees down an old dirt road. “No one ever comes over here,” she said, “…’cept lovers.” Now… now, we were talking. “So are you a ‘lover’?” I asked. She looked at me and asked, “Are you a ‘lover’?” “I can be,” I replied. My country girl smiled, as she unsnapped the button on her jeans. “I need to lose some weight,” she casually replied, pulling her shirt tail from her jeans. “Nah,” I replied, “I think you look fine.” She pulled her shirt up, exposing her abdomen. “I need to lose about ten pounds,” she shot back, patting her bare stomach. I slipped my arm across the console and on to her stomach. “No,” I argued back, circling my hand on her flat tummy, “Everything looks and feels fine to me.” She silently unfastened the buttons on her shirt, allowing it to part, exposing her gorgeous breasts tucked into her 38D cup brassiere.

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