Tuesday July 11, 2006
 
Her train set.
 
 
She's invited me over to help put together her Lionel Pennsylvania Flyer train set and we're sitting on the floor of her living room and while we're sitting there we're talking and laughing and drinking cold beer from long necked Budweiser bottles.
 
"What's this?" I say.

Her ass is aimed toward me as she connects pieces of track for the train to ride on and when I ask my question she moves her head and says:

"That's a crude oil pump."

I say:

"A crude oil pump?"

She says:

"You've probably seen the full size ones.  The pump moves up and down.  It's got a smooth bobbing action just like the real thing."

I say:

"Sure I've seen them." 

I haven't.

It feels like we're standing on the platform heading to Humpsville.  She's used this train assembling thing to get my butt over to her house and I'm thinking that she figures we'll eventually be f-cking.  Jeez.  Maybe I don't want to engage in intercourse.  Maybe I just want to get the Pennsylvania Flyer train set working and then maybe once it's working we'll laugh and shake hands and you'll make me soup and a sandwich and we'll tell ghost stories while your Pennsylvania Flyer chugs 'round the tracks.    

With her tight, jean wearing ass aimed squarely at me she says:

"I really appreciate your help, Norm."

I say:

"What's this thing?"

She turns her head and says: 

"That's a true to scale industrial smoke stack.  Smoke really comes out of it and it's got working aircraft warning lights at the top.  Turn it on."

"Turn it on?" I say.        

"Turn it on," she says then smiling.

I say:

"Really puts out a lot of smoke."

She says:

"God I've wanted this for a long time."

When she says God I've wanted this for a long time she stands and unlatches her jeans, pulls down the zipper and when her pants are resting at her ankles she kicks them off.  

While I'm holding the true-to-life industrial miniature smoke stack I say:

"What are you doing?"

"Don't talk," she says then walking to the ultra thin wall mounted CD player (with powered sliding glass doors).

"Are you playing a CD?"  I say. 

"Do you like Fiona Apple?" she says then pushing the miniature smoke stack from my hands.  She positions herself on all fours above the train tracks and above the quarter scale town complete with working crude oil pump, ice-cream parlor and United States Post Office.

She says:    

"Come on Norm."

The miniature lifelike smoke stack is lying on its side just below her snatch and the red aircraft warning lights are blinking and smoke is coming out of the stack and it's wafting up to her vagina and it's kinda lingering around her pubic hairs (looking like low lying fog one would see in a meadow or field in the early morning hours) and as I'm watching she says:

"Come on Norm."

There's not gonna be ghost stories and sandwiches or soup even.


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