Strips
Tall Tank Tales
Lingerie Beer Factory - "Just Keep Phucking"
But there was no beer. Certainly not out in the wind-swept region of the Outback they were currently calling home. OK - not much of a home, but they were stuck there. Not for long thought Booga, eyeing his Tanky treat.
With the tent beginning to further disintegrate, Booga thought it wise to seek shelter back in the nearby Tank. Gathering their few belongings, they braved the sand-storm and lumbered back to the tank. The tent then dashed off over the horizon in a cloud of dust and debris. Inside the tank, Booga’s mind (although wind-battered) was focusing on the scant remains of what once may have been considered Tanky’s clothing. While on the subject - she was damn near naked. Something of appeal to Booga.
In one deft maneuver, he scooped up Tanky, swiped off the remains of her clothing and pressed her hard against the metal grated floor of the tank.
"What took ya so long, Fuzzball?" she inquired.
"Specking out the details, Honey", he replied amidst grunts and groans of shagging delight.
As the two rolled about the hard metal floor, nearing a writhing O, a subtle thud echoed. And then again. Still another.
"What was that?" asked the Roo.
"Shut up. don’t stop now!" she belted.
"This may bare investigation", he muttered slowing his thrusting considerable.
"If you stop, I’ll beat the crap out of you! ... So, get back to business!"
THUD!
"Dammit", muttered the Roo.
"Leave me, you die", she growled as sweat ran down her brow.
Booga loved this sweaty little mess of a woman.
THUD!
THUD!
He rose to investigate.
"Christ!" she exclaimed, "Whatda have to do to get laid around here?"
THUD!
Begrudgingly, they poked their heads out of the top turret hoping to shoot at the source of the thud-noise.
"There is is", she pointed, letting off four shots into the dusty cloud.
"Where?"
"Dying right over there. I must have hit something."
THUD!
"Darn. I coulda sworn I saw blood".
"Stop shooting", yelled Booga, "That’s international tennis star Andre Agassi".
"Are you high, Fur-Brain?", she bellowed, "What the hell would he be doing out here banging away on my... Holy Shit! I think you’re right."
"Silly girl", thought Booga.
"But why is he hitting my tank with his tennis racquet?"
THUD!
"Ok, this shit is coming to an end", she wailed leaping down from the tank.
"Don’t kill him. He might have beer and cigarettes".
"He’s an athlete. AND, he’s hitting MY TANK!"
"Think before acting, my dear".
She paused for a moment seemingly oblivious to the pounding sand-storm that rushed around them. Then said...
"What if we built a dog-sled and Andre pulled us to civilization where we could steal beer and cigarettes?"
"Why would he do that?" mused Booga at the idiocy of her suggestion.
"This is a work of fiction. He’ll do whatever we want."
This sounded reasonable to Booga as he wondered how he could entice ex-porn star Traci Lords into serving finger-sandwiches at his next birthday party...
The sand blew hard as Tanky and Booga returned to their sexual depravity in the tank as Andre Agassi went about building the dog-sled. As the girl and her Roo rolled in extacy, they both knew they would soon be enjoying a cigarette over a cold beer.
THUD!... "Hey guys... I’m done. We can go now"
Tanky and Booga were wrapped in each other’s arms staring into one another’s eyes. But it was now time to forge ahead to recapture their favorite vices. They emerged from the tank to a beautiful dog-sled neatly bound together from branches. But something was different...
"Do you notice something?" Tanky inquired.
"Yeah, but I can’t quite put my finger on it", replied Booga.
"The wind-storm has ended", yelled Andre.
"He may be onto something", offered Booga.
"So lets fire up the tank and get going", she squealed disappearing back into the tank.
VRRROOOooomm! as the tank lurched forward.
Crunch! (crushing dog-sled noise)
Squish! AAHHHHhhh! (Andre noise)
Continued...