Maserati Highway Blowout
“Tell me more.”
My Maserati began purring words into my ear. I nodded intensely as each syllable left its grill: “Cut taxes… Spit upon the poor… If someone keys me, drag them into the yard of your 12 bedroom McMansion and paint your grass with their brains using your Remington. You’re an American hero. Show them your mettle.”
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Unzipping my pants, I knelt down behind my deep blue Maserati and gently caressed the rear bumper as I positioned my 2.5" member behind the tailpipe.
“You naughty luxury combustion motor vehicle…” I whispered softly into the audio-sEnsitive backup camera. He could hear me. I know he could hear me. My unnecessarily expensive coupe knows English.
I came before I could penetrate the tailpipe. Bellowed laugher projected from my diagram as cum soiled onto the concrete. “This is why my trans poly pronoun-neutral partner left me.” I sobbed to myself under the limelight of taxpayer-funded streetlights. “Cum” I whispered once more.
I thought of the funny video on YouTube where they edited Kurt Cobain to say ‘cum’ to the crowd.
“Cum.”
