We're Trailer Trash, That's What We Are

ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS

To Readers: This tale from Real Life is a prototype of the Trailer Trash Tales I aim to specialize with. This place really existed, the people really existed, and the interactions are fair depictions of real events. As gross as it is, I cleaned it up a tidge, to chase the flies away. If it appeals to you, comment.

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Pearl's trailer was way the hell back in the woods, past where the paved highway ended, beyond the gravel road, and about two miles further near the end of a dirt trail. Her old trailer sat in the middle of a one acre lot, surrounded by a few thousand black garbage bags, scores of old appliances, and several cords of sawed tree trunks.

There was a path through the debris, from the trail in front of the place to the back door of the trailer. Her neighbors hated the dump she created and the rats she attracted. The rats came for the baby shit but ate the Pampers, too, and the Pampers swelled up inside the rats and killed them. Old crumpled, yellow, condoms punctuated the ground around the garbage bags, where the rats had opened the bags to get at the poop.

Inside was almost as pleasant as outside. Many of the trailer's windows had broken panes. The carpet was saturated with dog piss, and made sloshing noises when walked on. The kitchen was coated with a patina of light brown grease, and the sink and counter tops were piled high with pots, pans, and cereal boxes. The refrigerator didn't work, and was used for storage space till the contents spoiled. The bathtub was piled high with rotted dirty laundry. The sour stench of piss, mildew, and tobacco smoke saturated the air throughout the trailer.

Pearl was 32 years old, 190 pounds, five-four, long peroxide blonde hair, gray eyes, size 16 pants, and a medium top. Plus she was unemployed, a high school dropout, unskilled, and pregnant. Her latest lover was a carny in town till the county fair closed Saturday night. Pearl didn't know she was pregnant. The baby daddy was her step-father, Bud. When Pearl needed money Bud was the go-to guy, for a price. Bud came by the trailer a lot but didn't fuck her there. It was too nasty.

Bud and the grandmother rented trailers, and so Bud and Pearl pretended he was paying her to clean vacated trailers he owned. Sometimes he gave her pot instead of cash. Some of his renters paid him with drugs.

Pearl and the carny fucked on a pissy mattress in the living room if he found a ride to her place after the fair closed at night.

Pearl's two kids lived with grandma. Their daddy was in prison for cooking meth, though Pearl was almost sure Bud was the real father of both. Rick always seemed to like drugs better than pussy, and most of her friends slept with their stepfathers or uncles. But Pearl wanted to see more of the world than trailer ceilings. Her plan was to follow the carnival when it moved on, and share her lover's bed in the dorm trailer the workers slept in. Bud was almost her first lover, knew how to get her off, and she'd miss the money.

Pearl came out to the truck, sucking on her first bottle of beer of the morning, when Bud pulled up and tooted the horn. She looked clean, her hair was clean and fluffy, she had no unpleasant odors, her teeth always looked good, and he liked what he saw inside her black hooker dress. Her tats were modest, few in number, and in good taste. "You ready to do some hookin'?" He laughed. She got in the truck and he tossed her a baggie of pot.

"No money, today?" She asked, admiring his new straw cowboy hat.

"It's in the bag," he said, taking a drag off his Marlboro and following the trail out of the woods.

She removed the money from the baggie, counted it, and stuffed it and the pot in her pocket. "Where we goin'?" She asked.

"Got a trailer over off Shady Hills Road, nice and secluded," he smiled.

The trailer, a single-wide, sat at the back of a large lot, behind a grove of Black Jack Oak trees. Bud unlocked the front door, opened it, and went in. Pearl followed him. "Go shower," he said. Bud switched On the air conditioning, and returned to the pickup to fetch a bottle of bourbon and a bag. A carton of beer was already in the fridge. Bud liked to get her fucked up first. Pot and beer had always been the bait Pearl bit at.

Bud heard the shower running, and took a cold bottle to Pearl, then took the whisky to the bedroom and uncapped the bottle to sip.

After a while Pearl opened the bathroom door and came to the bedroom wearing a beach towel wrapped around her waist, her tits exposed and beaded with water. Bud was on the bed, stretched out. "Come sit on my face and I'll polish your apple," he said.

She got on the bed, straddled his chest, then inched forward till she could grip the headboard while he licked her. Pearl didn't think too much while fucking or anything else, though she liked how she felt as he pinched her nipples. What worked for her was to screw or eat or drink or smoke till she had her fill of the good time. Good Time is what Bud called his cock. And she didn't like to think with a cock inside her. Fucking was no time for thinking.

After Bud got her off with his tongue, she opened another beer while she rolled a joint. A joint would clear her head of noise. Bud knew this. After the joint was rolled, she lit it, and lay on the bed to smoke it while Bud fucked her.

When he got between her legs, she opened them wider, then guided him in with her free hand. It was the best part of sex, she thought, when the guy is pushing himself in and goes through the door, it was always a good feeling.

Bud's routine was always the same, twenty minutes of stroking her, then a nap to let his cum drain out into the sheet and mattress. About four o'clock, if she woke up first, she'd drink a beer, roll another joint, pee, and return to bed to get him off in her mouth. After she swallowed it was time for a beer and a shower. Occasionally she preferred a 2nd load of semen she could enjoy as it leaked out and made a wet stain on the bottom of her skirt or shorts.

Today she awoke first and rolled her tongue around the head of Bud's cock, painting it with spit she then sucked off. He released a fair load inside her mouth this time, then she got out of bed, to wash it down with a beer chaser, followed by a hot bath.

Bud sat on the toilet lid, smoking, as she bathed. She smiled at him as she spread soap on her tits and arms with the washcloth. "You'll be staying here from now on," he said. "After you're done bathing we'll run over to the Super Center to buy a few things you need."

"What's the special occasion?" She asked.

"Your ma and I decided to tear the other place down, clean up the lot, and find another trailer for it," he said. "Too many neighbors been pissing and moaning about the squalor."

"This place is too easy for Ma to visit," she said.

"I'm thinking about putting you to work," he said.

"Doing what?" She asked.

"Selling pussy," he replied.

"Pimp me?" She asked.

"A couple or three tricks a week oughta be easy for you to handle, you been giving it away since I met you," he said. "You been sitting on a gold mine, and it's time to make it pay."

"I bet Ma doesn't know about your plan," she said.

"It was her idea, we been selling her pussy for a long time," he said. "Her pussy bought all the trailers we rent."