Dragonfly sex

So we waved goodbye to New York, and after getting stuck on the west side highway, were more than ready to get the fuck out of the city. After a few hours and a second round of Cracker Barrel, Linda and I, plus our newest addition, British Waffle Pete, headed to Weems, Virginia, current residence of Linda's friend James. A bromance immediately sparked between Waffle Pete and James, one that led us ladies to respect their privacy as they exchanged tales of action and adventure in resonant voices at early hours of the day. We ate at a car wash, went to Colonial Williamsburg, and debated purchasing tin flutes and drums. This ended with us passing, much like I made the decision to not buy Deliverance: the novel, which I planned to read aloud to Linda when we were in the darkest, scariest parts of the South.
Then we packed up and left, heading towards Chapel Hill, where the wonderful Katie Fafani had food ready for us when we turned up, starving, tired from a busy day of sitting at a beach in Virginia full of wonderful levels of white trash. A chick covered in confederate flag and white pride tattoos frolics naively with her friend's interracial child. Magical! Does she know or does she just think the kid is really tan? We also got to watch teenagers chase each other with jellyfish on a stick, flinging it in disgusted glee at one another. Oh, youth.
But anyway, Chapel Hill. Good vintage, fun people, great food, and of course, quarry swimming. Something I've never done. I've had a lifelong pussy relationship with bodies of water that aren't swimming pools. And I'm sort of hesitant about swimming pools because people pee in them. I hate people. And pee. So I was nervous about the quarry. But it all worked out wonderfully, despite us wandering off the wrong path because we were following people who thought we knew where we were, and then not having a noodle. See, I have often bemoaned the uselessness of noodles. I hate when people bring them over because they're basically bigger than the pool and suck. BUT when you're floating around a 65 foot deep quarry, they're useful.
I ended up swimming almost the entire length of the quarry in a desperate bid for exercise after all the sitting in a car I've been doing. It was exhausting. And awesome. And I probably have a swamp disease in my arm because I swam with my newly completed and healing tattoo, which is totally against the rules and a bad plan and do not follow my example.
Then we bid a sad goodbye to Katie, Jenkins and Mabel, who will miss rubbing her ass on Linda's leg. But subconsciously, Linda longed for Mabel's rubbing so much that she left her credit card at a bar and we had to come back. It was timely because we passed a bunch of buzzards eating a deer, which was gross and awesome and great and gross again.
Now we're in Charleston, which is beautiful and quiet and full of BBQ. We ate at the BBQ where Steve Colbert launched his presidential campaign, which lasted like a week. What you have to love about the south is all the antiquity and history, and enormous paintings of Steven Colbert.