Lubricia’s back with another reader letter!
Hello, lovers! I’m Lubricia Cosmoline, your hoe-stess of “After Dark.” As a long-time aficionado of everything that goes “bang,” I seek to offer a platform for all of your most intimate, personal experiences in the world of guns and hunting. I’ve seen it all—a .50 BMG can’t go too far for me! So sit back, unholster, and get ready for today’s letter…I call it “Where the Dick’s Aren’t.”
Dear Lubricia Cosmoline,
I never thought it would happen to me, because my two best galpals and I have never had problems getting what we need from Dick’s before. But despite our lustrous hair, wide, doe-like eyes and enormous bosoms, that very thing just recently happened…but it all worked out in the end.
I should probably give you some important background. I was lucky enough to room with my two very best childhood friends for our freshman year of college, so we’ve spent several months recently just doing what extremely busty but small-waisted and barely legal ladies do in college. You know, pillow fights, lingerie fashion shows, nude yoga…pretty standard stuff. But the three of us have a naughty little secret that sets us apart from the “other girls”: We like to go hunting. One weekend, we decided to go out predator hunting, only to realize to our 38DDDDismay that we’d forgotten our rifles back home!
“No worries,” said my brunette roommate poutily. “We’ll just stop off for some Dick’s therapy on the way to our hunting lease!” (It’s a good thing we were all wearing cheerleading outfits already, so we could properly cheer her terrific idea.)
Giving my pompoms a vigorous shake, I sang, “Let’s get an AR-15! They have stocks adjustable for length of pull, so even though we are petite, average, and tall, each of us can use it!”
“I can’t wait to get to Dick’s!” said my blonde roommate innocently, and just like that, a star wipe happened and everything went black.
When the star wipe released, we were walking into the famous sporting goods store. Dick’s runs have always been our favorite things since we turned 18, but like I said, it had been a few months since we’d last had the chance. So when we skipped, arm-in-arm, up to the gun counter, we were shocked to see that the big, black piece we’d been craving wasn’t there. (Nor were there any pink ones, for that matter!)
“What’s going on?” I cooed sexily to the clerk, looking at his nametag. “Where are the AR-15s, Chode Pudlington?”
“Oh…uhm,” he stammered, “Well, Corporate decided that we’d look really great to the public if we yanked all the black guns off the shelves and then hired some anti-gun lobbyists.”
“Do you mean to tell us that Dick’s is going to disappoint all three of us? At the same time?” pouted my brunette roommate.
“It’s okay, guys,” whispered our blonde roommate innocently. “As long as we’re here, we can pick up some hunting gear.”
“Oh…uhm,” stuttered Chode, “well, we kinda had to stop selling that, too. I guess we thought that the hunters wouldn’t mind if we stopped selling the black ones, but as it turns out they did mind and they quit buying from us too.”
“That’s kinda Dick-ed up,” I purred sexily at Chode, as he tugged comically at his shirt collar. “I guess we’re just going to have to go see if we can have fun without Dick’s.”
“P-p-p-please,” Chode said, flaccidly. “We can still have fun–why, we’ve still got lots of…like, balls and stuff…you could play with!”
“No, girls,” I said, saucily, and with a flip of my cheerleading skirt and a bounce of buttocks, I turned to them and said, “I think it’s time we went where the Dick’s aren’t.”
One star wipe later, and we were cheering our way into the doors of a new gun store: Quim’s! We spent hours there, taking our time, taking our turns, touching everything. Absolutely nothing was off-limits: They had LWRC Diadems. They had Springfield Armory Saints. They had black guns, pink guns, and everything in between…and we had the time of our lives, even without Dick’s to help us out.
After we (and our credit limits) were completely spent, I looked into my brunette and blonde besties’ eyes and said, “All right, ladies! Are you ready to go predator hunting?”
“Ohh my yes,” they murmured, in unison. “So did our lease’s trail cam still show that bobcat hanging around?”
“Mm-hmm,” I nodded, seductively. “So let’s go slay some pussy!”
Dear Where the Dick’s Aren’t,
I’m so very pleased to hear that you’ve discovered that, whether you’re very serious or just want to play for a semester or so, it’s just not necessary to have a Dick’s around to have a wonderful time!
Love and other indoor sports,