Drive-in Crush and the Poopy Barbeque

 

I dreamed Sharon and I were out on a date at a drive-in movie theater, only there was no movie and no other cars, and it was just her and I making out in the back seat of a 1960s American luxury sedan. 

As things began to heat up, I put the passenger seat back to demonstrate how the whole interior could be made into a giant bed. I forgot to tell Sharon to move, however, and she was temporarily crushed between the two black leather upholstered seats.

"Are you OK?" I gasped frantically. "I'll get you unstuck, I promise."

I pulled the lever, and the seat retracted. She was fine, but this put an end to the backseat lovemaking. We went home to our apartment in town and decided to have a barbecue out in the courtyard. I threw some steaks on the grill and headed to the apartment to get some spices.

On my way to the apartment, I stepped in some dog shit. Great, I thought, and I was barefoot, naturally. I wriggled my toes to try to rid them of the smushy poop, but I only made it worse. 

Inside the apartment, I used the sink sprayer to rinse my feet off. The hose must have been extremely long because I wasn't anywhere near the sink. I was in the hallway, and the poop was getting rinsed off onto the hardwood floor. I made a mental note to clean it up later and went back outside to the grill, where an amorous Sharon awaited me.

I somehow managed to regain the mood despite the dog shit, and soon we abandoned the steaks and headed into the apartment for a quickie. I grabbed her by the back of both thighs, hoisted her up and carried her reverse piggie-back into the bedroom.