<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2f/72/f4/2f72f46ea210e7744b1d513df3b0c405.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Beualah Pusser (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281000.msg13833405#msg13833405)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Cruising in the South Pacfic<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Everyone<br/><br/>"Dang it's hotter'n hell in these her parts!"<br/><br/>The stuffy storage hold had turned the lovely South Pacific weather into something a lot more oppressive. And the exertion Beulah Pusser had put in sorting crates had her bangin' bod glistening with sweat. She had wisely chosen a tiny pair of Daisy Dukes and a red halter top for the morning's activities but even that felt like too much. Beulah had rolled up her top so that it barely covered her colossal cornfed cannons in a futile effort to keep cool. But Beulah really didn't mind the work, it reminded her of growing up on a farm in little ol' Finger, Tennessee. As she told anyone that would listen that morning, as a kid she had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to get her chores done. All them animals weren't gonna manually masturbate themselves. Hard to believe all the places she had been since then. Iraq, Cuba, now all over the world with TES. But she always made it back home to Tennessee.<br/><br/>It was just the day before that Beulah had left the family farm in Finger to go on the latest mission for TES. The job was a godsend after she had lost her position as county sheriff.  The pay was really good even if the actual clientele was a bit dubious. But that was what they had Beulah for. She had been in law enforcement both in the military and back home so she was fluent in police. Beulah made sure the Bangin' Bods' bitchin' butts were covered as much as they could be. Legally, that is. Lord know they didn't dress like any other paramilitary outfit around. For all its moral ambiguity, Beulah did find herself liking her job. It was teaching her how to fight dirty, something she would have to do if she was gonna get her badge back from the Dixie Mafia. That's why the day before she loaded up her truck to head to the airport. Her cousin Dwayne was there to see her off.<br/><br/><div align="center">(http://www.jimbo.info/weblog/archives/boduke.jpg)</div><br/><br/>"When ya reckon ya gonna git back?" asked Dwayne.<br/><br/>"Ah dunno," answered Beulah truthfully. "A lot lot this stuff this hush-hush 'til we git there. Ah'll give you a holler when I can."<br/><br/>Beaulah squatted down to say farewell to her hound dogs Elvis and Jerry. Dwayne took the opportunity to stare down at his cousin's canyonesque cleavage. A shit-eating grin appeared on his scruffy yet handsome face.<br/><br/>"Hey, Beulah... ya got time for a quickie?"<br/><br/>Sure, it was a stereotype to be from the South and fucking your cousin but Beulah had to admit he was really good at it. Dwayne had years of practice, going back to when first felt her up after showing her how to drive. It was a nice relaxing no-strings attached relationship... that they would both probably burn in hell for. But until the let the good times roll. Just not right now.<br/><br/>"Sorry, cuz," Beulah replied. "Gotta go if Ah'm gonna catch my flight. Take care of my dogs and give that wife of yours a big kiss from me."<br/><br/>Yes, things are a little different in Finger, Tennessee. But right now Beulah was in the South Pacific. After the little chat with the boss, Beulah took a long swig out of water bottle. Then she pulled her rolled up top up over her massive mammaries and poured the cool liquid over them. Beulah cooed as she rubbed the chilly water over her hot honeydews, her nipples stiffening from both the temperature and her touch. It was just then that Beulah realized there was someone new approaching and she felt herself getting flush not from the weather but from embarrassment.<br/><br/>"Uhhh... howdy. Ah'm Beulah," she managed to get out. "Ain't underboob sweat the worst?"