Tijuana Burger Girl Ch. 01-03

The music that's been playing softly since we all woke up sounds so amazing right now that I have to turn it up. The moment the beat vibrates through my chest and bones, the stimulant effect of this drug compels me to close my eyes and dance around the living room. A few seconds into grooving like a stoned hippy, my heightened sense of hearing picks up the sound of the front door to the beach house opening through the loud music. I'm vibing too hard right now to open my eyes and check if someone is going out or if the girls are finally back with the food.

"Ummm," Vera Chambers, the lanky brunette hums. "Why is Alicia dancing like a maniac while feeling herself up like it's Saturday night at the club all over again?"

My eyes snap open and I twirl around to find her and Lacey sauntering towards the kitchen table, a brown bag that says Asada's in Vera's hand. "Yay! You're back!" I cheer, skipping over to the table, my unblinking eyes locked onto the food bag the entire time.

"Because she chugged two strong-ass margaritas and popped the last molly," Bailey replies to her through an exasperated sigh.

Vera snickers. "Wait... Are you serious?"

Staring at her all wide-eyed and smiley, I nod rapidly while caressing the Styrofoam burger container that I've just pulled out of the bag. "Is this one mine?" I ask in a slight slur.

Both of the girls that just walked in shrug.

"They didn't mark them or anything," says Lacey Gomez, the only Latina in our group. "Three of the burgers are the same, so your odds of picking the right one are pretty good."

Grinning, I open the box in my hand, revealing a juicy 5-ounce burger topped with lime mayo, Monterey Jack cheese, mushrooms, and the best damn guac I've ever tasted in the eight years I've been living in California. "Fuck yassssss!" I say, slowly lifting the burger to my mouth, moaning as I mindlessly grind my vagina against the rounded corner of the table that I've just bumped into. My sense of touch is so heightened that simply licking the hot, greasy patty feels amazing against my tongue. Upon licking my way to the top of the patty, my tongue slips underneath the bun and I lap up a glob of guac and lime mayo that's oozing over the edge. After savoring that gooey deliciousness for a moment, I take a massive bite out of the burger. "MMMM!" I moan, throwing my head back from both the glorious flavors and the pleasure of still bucking into the table's corner.

"Can you not dry-hump the table in front of us?" Bailey groans.

No lie, I was, like, five seconds away from orgasming, so it takes everything in me to stop grinding against the corner.

"Chica, you're a mess and a half," Lacey says to me, giggling and shaking her head.

"FFK YRMM!" is what I mumble to Lacey, my attempt at saying 'fuck you.' "NNN FFK YRMM TRR!" I mumble to Bailey. After dropping my burger back into the container, I pick up the Styrofoam box and then dance my way back to the living room, writhing my body sensually as though I'm trying to seduce an imaginary guy across the room from me.

The warm sea breeze blowing past me feels so incredible against my skin that I keep dancing past the couch and shimmy my way out onto the balcony like I'm being beckoned outside by a siren in the ocean. There's still so much meat and bread and toppings in my mouth right now from that first bite that, instead of taking another chomp out of the burger like I want to, I set the opened Styrofoam container on the patio table right in the sunlight so it'll stay warm while I struggle to chew up this first morsel. Despite being annoyed that it's taking forever to swallow this food, I savor every last flavor during the mastication process, chewing nice and slow as the juices and gooey guac tantalize my wriggling tongue before finally gulping down a bit of mashed beef and toppings. For some reason, though, the longer I chew that first massive bite, the less delicious the burger becomes, tasting nothing like it did the last few times I had it.

Is there something missing? That's what I wonder as I pick up the burger and lift the top bun. The guac looks perfect... The tomato and lettuce don't look old or anything. The mushrooms are cooked. The Monterey Jack cheese is there, looking nice and melted... The medium-well patty looks juicy... Maybe I've just been chewing so long that the flavor is gone... I have been chewing for, like, one whole song...

The instant I finally choke down the last bit, I open my mouth wide and immediately take another massive chomp out of it like a ravenous zombie.

Three chews in, the lack of flavor makes me stop abruptly and wriggle my tongue against the beef I'm mashing against the roof of my mouth, searching for something—anything to excite my tastebuds. What the eff... Now it tastes blander than the first bite... I set the burger in the box upside down, lifting off the bottom bun and setting it on the underside of the lid so I can see if there's something else off about the patty. The meat looks good... Looks seasoned... And the first bite did taste perfectly fine... That can only mean one thing... The molly is jacking up my taste buds already...

It takes, like, the entire next song for me to finally swallow that second bite, and no part of it tasted anything like it did when I ate this burger Friday and yesterday. Even with the molly making me feel super elated, I'm so disheartened by not being able to enjoy the food that I keep dancing in place while staring at the upside-down burger, the bottom bun of which is still sitting in the lid.

"Alicia, why are you staring at the burger and looking all pouty?" Bailey asks as she walks up beside me. "Your food tastes like shit on molly, doesn't it?"

Reluctantly, I nod.

"Want me to put it in the fridge for you?"

"Nah, I'm just taking my time. It's hard to swallow, that's all."

"Okie-Dokie!" she says, heading back inside.

When I twirl around, I spot a margarita that someone left on the coffee table. "Hmm." I wonder if I can taste that, I think, hurrying over to it. I grab it off the table like I need it to live, then I get to chugging. One gulp in, I'm hit with sour citrus notes and the burn of alcoholic agave. Of course I can still taste this, I think, gulping it down to about halfway.

"Alicia!" Payton shouts. "Stop drinking while you're rolling!"

I raise a hand in surrender while setting down the mostly empty glass. "Alright, alright! Chill. We literally drink more than this on molly all the time, so it's not like anything bad's gonna happen..."

"That's not what we're worried about," Payton speaks slowly as if I'm having trouble understanding her. "We're worried you'll still be effed up when it's time to leave."

"Oh yeah..." I mutter. "I forgot it's Sunday..."

"Uh-oh," Bailey grumbles, wincing at Payton. "She's already starting to forget shit..."

Snickering, I wave her off. "Pssh... No I'm not! I'm fine!"

Chapter 3:

A Burger, South of the Border

Sunday

Bailey might've been right about me starting to forget, I think, wondering when and how I ended up vibing on the couch when the last thing I remember was dancing over by the kitchen. I also don't remember how I ended up by the kitchen in the first place because my last memory before that was chugging someone's drink out on the balcony.

That's how this last hour or so has been for me. One second, I'm dancing around the condo. The next thing I know, I'm either stealing someone's drink or vibing out on this couch with my eyes closed. If I'm browning out like this—if time is flying the way it is, that means I definitely drank way more than I should've. Because I only lose time like this on molly when I drink way too much.

The entire time I've been sitting here, one hand has been alternating between caressing my tits and sweeping up to my neck and my face while the other has been lightly tracing circles around my thighs. This MDMA has me so horny right now that it's taking everything in me not to reach down into my jeans and rub my clit over my damp panties. Every time I start to reach down there, I catch a glimpse of the girls in the corner of my eyes and retract my hand.

"Hey!" Vera says from the balcony. "Who left their burger all open out here like this?"

My head snaps over to the left and I see her fanning her hand over the Styrofoam box that's sitting in the middle of the patio table, chasing away a cloud of black dots—a swarm of about ten to fifteen flies. "That's mine!" I shout, springing from the couch.

She shakes her head at me, disappointment etched on her face. "You spent all night and all morning going on and on about having one last burger from Asada's before we leave, you texted us to hurry back with it, and you only took two freaking bites?! What a waste!"

"It's not going to waste!" I whine, pouting while I stare at the upside-down burger, the bun of which is sitting in the lid. Why is it upside-down with the bottom bun off? "I'm going to finish it as soon as I can swallow and taste properly again."

"Um," she says, wincing. "This burger has been sitting out here for well over two hours, Alicia... And did you not see all those flies on it just now? The bun was off, so they were crawling all over the patty just now... It's probably safer just to toss it."

"It'll be fine!" I plead, walking over to her. "I mean, we've all eaten foods that had flies on it before. Remember that science experiment from, like, middle school where you put the meat from a sealed pack in a box or whatever and it still gets maggots anyway?"

Vera sighs. "Either way, bacteria grow rapidly on meat left out for two hours. Also, it's been sitting in the sun, which means it's probably been the perfect temperature to encourage rapid microbial growth..."

"Whatever, microbiology major," I almost snarl. "I've eaten meat left out for longer at tailgates and survived, so you're not throwing it away..." I snatch the container from her and then slam it shut. "If it's already been two hours, I should start coming down soon, so I'll just reheat it and eat it before we leave."

"Unless you're nauseous like you were last night," Payton chimes in as she steps out onto the balcony.

"Then I'll take it with me!" I say with what feels like a deranged smile.

Payton snickers, plopping down on the outdoor lounge chair. "Um... you're not allowed to bring meats back over the border though..."

"If I can smuggle weed and molly across the border, I can surely figure out a way to bring back one harmless burger..." I say with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"What, you gonna cram an entire burger up your vadge the way you did our drugs?" Vera jokes, snickering as she sits in the chair beside Payton. She puts a joint between her lips and then sparks up the lighter.

I snicker as I step back inside. "Nah. I'll figure something out."

"You have fun with that!" Vera says.

On the walk to the fridge, the thought of Vera's joke about stuffing this entire burger up into my hole south of the border makes me grin and giggle to myself. Honestly, that idea isn't that outlandish or gross to me for one very messed-up reason. And that reason is that I've shamefully shoved tons of food up into my flesh pocket before...

Back when my eating disorder was at its worst, my parents had me committed to the hospital in a last-ditch effort to save me from starving myself to death. In those first few days, I had an incredibly hard time adjusting to those large portions they forced me to eat, so I brainstormed away to get rid of it. Since there was no trashcan in my room and they monitored me after each meal, I couldn't exactly store the food in my cheeks and sneak past them to spit it out somewhere else. And since they stood right outside the bathroom door to make sure I wasn't making myself puke every time that I went in, I had to find another way to hide it. That's when I remembered a news story that I'd recently seen on Facebook about a girl who got caught smuggling drugs in her vagina.

It's not like the doctors and nurses can do a cavity search, I thought in the middle of chewing that day's dinner. They don't watch me eat the entire time, so I could just hide away the food whenever they weren't looking...

Not only was I desperate, but I was also in the middle of a really bad manic episode, which meant that I was prime to act impulsively and do whatever sounded like a good idea at the moment no matter how risky it was health-wise. So, right there and then, I began spitting out chewed-up food, reaching up under my hospital gown when no one was looking, and pushing the gross mash into myself. Potatoes, chicken, veggies, beef, rice—you name it, it's been in my cooch. What began as an act of desperation inspired by a bout of mania became habitual even after the depressive phase came along. The only reason I eventually got caught is because it was damn near impossible to finger out all the food that I stuck up there. And, as a result, I developed a bad case of vaginitis that left me with a fever and mild pelvic pain—symptoms that forced me to come clean about my dirty secret.

Following my recovery from that debacle, I stopped for a while, only to start up weeks after returning home from the hospital. And, yes, it was another decision made during a manic phase. Packing my coochie with whole and chewed food again was the only way to keep my parents from catching me throwing out or throwing up food. Eventually, I got my eating disorder under control and stopped completely. Thankfully it's been a few years since I've done that, but here I am thinking about stuffing the ole flesh pocket again to hide food from border patrol instead of doctors or my parents...

Right as I grip the freezer's handle, my body goes statuesque and I zone out as I fantasize about slathering my tight passage in burger grease, mayo, and guac until it's lubed in a slimy mess, and the thought instantly gets me hot and bothered. Imagining how delicious of a sensation it'd be having soft, greasy beef chunks pushed into me while I'm high on molly makes my vagina flutter. In seconds, I'm horny as hell, my chest heaving while a naughty smile plays across my lips.

Back when I used to hide food up there, it never once turned me on. I was repulsed by the idea, and I only did it because I felt I had to. The only excitement I felt was an adrenaline rush brought on by the nervousness of worrying about falling ill or getting caught doing such a disgusting act. But now that I'm rolling on molly at near peak high, all I can think about is what all those strange textured foods and toppings would feel like being fingered into my depths...

I should just break off a chunk and try it, just to experience what it'd feel like while I'm rolling, I think while setting the container in the freezer, my vagina clenching with need. I can definitely fit all of the meat inside of me... The thought of packing myself full makes my body goes statuesque again, my arm still half in the freezer with my fingers gripping the container. And it's only, like, an hour drive back to San Diego... In health class, we learned that the vagina is full of good microbes that outcompete the bad bacteria, so if I only keep it in my coochie until I get home, it should be good to eat so long as I reheat it... My glazed-over eyes refocus on my hand in the freezer that's now aching from the cold. But I won't be able to cram it into me if it's frozen... That shit would be super uncomfy...

"Fuck it," I whisper, grinning as I take the container back out of the freezer.

Thankfully, Vera and Payton are still sitting out on the balcony facing the beach, Lacey is in the second bathroom showering, and Bailey is in the other bedroom talking on the phone. Just in case someone randomly turns around, I hide the Styrofoam box behind my back and hurry over to the master bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. In this room, there's a door that leads out the balcony so, instead of sneakily trying to lock it, I just slip into the master bathroom and lock the door behind me, just in case.

After setting the container on the bathroom counter, I open it and stare at the burger for a moment before mindlessly picking it up. Can I fit all of this inside me? Turning to the full-length mirror hanging from the bathroom door, I nibble at my thumbnail while holding the burger in front of my crotch, giggling as I imagine that it's crammed deep in my birth canal all assembled the way it is now, buns and all. I cannot believe I'm even considering this, I think, snickering as I set the food back into the Styrofoam box.

Trembling from nervousness and excitement, I feverishly pull my white T-shirt over my head then I unbutton my favorite pair of blue jeans, pulling them and my panties down in one go, my body shuddering from how amazing it feels having the fabric brush along my hypersensitive flesh. There's stickiness glistening in the crotch of my undies, probably because the thought of fingering food into myself made me hornier than I already was since I started rolling.

Figuring it'd be easier to clean the bathtub than it would the floor afterward, I quickly dry the tub then I grab the box and step into the bathtub. As soon as I lay back on the cold porcelain and spread my legs, I reach down and rub the sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs. The middle finger of my other hand then wanders down my slit, pressing into my wet folds until it plunges into the sopping-wet hole. While my finger schlicks away inside my passage, my other hand opens the Styrofoam container. The top bun gets taken off along with the lettuce, tomatoes, and mushrooms. The cheese I can't peel off because it's melted to the patty.

Oh well, guess that's going in too...

My breath quickens, coming out in short, ragged, shaky puffs as the two fingers noisily pumping in and out of me quicken their pace. Meanwhile, the middle two digits of my other hand mindlessly caress their way through the slimy layer of mayo and guac, coating themselves in the creaminess before eventually pushing through the soft cheese and plunging into the center of the greasy, room-temperature patty. I sensually finger the hole I just made in the burger meat like it's the vagina of another woman, and it makes a much creamier noise than my coochie is making right now.

Focus, I think, breaking off a small piece of beef from the edge of the patty, a piece without cheese.

After setting the chunk down on my pubic mound, I pull the fingers out of my vagina only to replace them with the ones covered in a paste of brown and green guac swirled with off-white mayo, my digits making the stickiest of sounds as they glide into my depths.

"Ah... Ah... Ahhhh..." I moan quietly from how incredible the thick, greasy, creaminess feels against my fluttering vaginal walls.

My fingers leave my cavity with an incredibly sticky squelch, sounding like extremely wet macaroni salad being squeezed in someone's hand. Satisfied that I'm lubed up enough for the thumbnail-sized chunk of beef I broke off, I spread open my lips—the lips south of the border, not the ones belonging to my face—then I push the meat into my hole until it bulges past the remnants of my hymen.

"Oh... Ah—fuuuugh..." I groan quietly, my body writhing restlessly as the squishy, greasy, cold, lump drags through my rapidly clenching passage toward the end of the line.

The foreign sensation feels so glorious that my pussy throbs, almost sucking in my finger and the chunk with each clench as though it's begging to be fed more. The pleasure drives me so mad that, without even thinking about it, the hand that was parting my folds slides up and begins vigorously rubbing my clit. Diddling myself while rolling on molly feels so damn good that my eyes immediately clench shut and I can't help but groan in sweet agony. The next thing I know, I'm blindly reaching over to the burger beside me and breaking off what feels like a bigger chunk of meat. Reluctantly, I stop rubbing myself and mash the cheesy chunk of guac-slathered beef into me.