STORIES : Rendezvous at Seven Eleven:

“Erin, ESHHHOOOOO! watch out!”

HOOOOONNNNNNNNNNK!

"Holy shit!" Erin swerved to her right just in time to avoid colliding with the Pontiac passing her. Aw man, I gotta get this thing under control, she thought, her heart racing frantically as she felt wetness between her legs. Carla's sneezes or not, I gotta get this fucking thing under control or we're both gonna get killed.

"Why don'cha learn how to drive, you stupid bitch?!" hollered the driver inside the Pontiac as he flipped Erin the bird and then sped off.

Instead of staying ahead where she should have kept them, Erin's eyes wandered to her right, to where Carla sat, caught in the grips of yet another intense fit of sneezes, and she felt relaxed and very horny, too horny to concentrate on her task at hand, maintaining control of the vehicle.

"'Tchoooo! hatchoo! harahshooo! Etchoooo! *sniff* damn allergies are really starting to bug me now," she muttered."

Erin slammed her foot on the brakes at the last moment as the car in front of her stopped suddenly. She could hear her tires squealing, and she had been an inch away from rear-ending the red Honda with the license plate that read OPS-900 and had a bumper sticker on the rear window, top left-hand corner which proclaimed that MEAN PEOPLE SUCK and another, this one old, faded, and cracking all over, on the top right-hand corner that asked:

 

HOW'S MY DRIVING?
CALL 1-800-EAT SHIT!

 

Aw man, another close call, thought Erin. All right, Carla, I NEVER in a million years thought I'd ever be asking this, but please, could you please just STOP sneezing. Just for five minutes, okay...just 'til we get to Seven-Eleven. Once we're there, you can sneeze all you want. But for now, just stop. It's too much of a distraction for me while we're on the road.

Oh...don't...don't ever stop sneezing...

“AhhhhhhhSHoo!”

Just stop 'til we get there, Carla, that's all I ask.

"HAH-EEEEHHSHOOO!"

Oh God...we're both gonna die...

The Honda finally began to move once more, and Erin lightly tapped her foot against the accelerator. It was best to try and go as slow as possible; with Carla's constant sneezing, and the increased level of blissful wetness around Erin's crotch, driving too fast would simply be too dangerous. Carla's allergies were way to much of a distraction even now, as she continued to sneeze, sometimes softly, sometimes loudly, into her cupped hands. One of Erin's hands was on the steering wheel--she struggled in vain to keep it steady, to keep it from swerving left and right as though she were driving drunk. And her other hand had been sneaking deep into her pants, her fingers massaging lightly against her moist sex, rubbing harder and harder against her wet clit each time Carla sneezed and hoping that her best friend wouldn't notice what she had been doing. It was inevitable that she would, though. Erin was skating on thin ice--in her mind she continued to beg Carla to stop sneezing, to please hold them off for a little while, while at the same time pleading for her not to stop, to never stop what she had been doing. She had been so engrossed in this sexual tension that she didn't even ear the other motorists outside screaming at her, cussing her, hollering that she drove worse than an old lady, couldn't see any of them flipping her the bird.

She accidentally pressed down upon the accelerator too hard, and for a few seconds the car increased speeds, making it to 50 miles an hour when the posted speed limit was only 35. She let off a shrill shriek, alarmed, before she applied pressure to the break, once again getting the car back under control and hopefully herself under some kind of composure, before she heard Carla sneezed sexily once again: "Harashoo!"

From out of nowhere, Erin heard the sudden warbling of police sirens, flashing red and blue over every direction. The police cruiser had now been on her tail, and when she saw this in her rearview mirror, she immediately pulled over to the side. She rolled down her window and turned off the radio, and then just sat there, trembling, sweating, and blushing deeply with embarrassment as she saw the police officer walking up to the driver's side window.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need to see your license and registration."

She could neither move nor speak, her breath robbed, her muscles numbed, paralyzed in fear. When she tried to speak, her voice quivered incoherently, and she found herself unable to speak a word, totally flustered beyond incompetence.

"Ma'am, I'm not gonna ask ya again. Now get your hands outta your pants and get me your license and registration, now!"

Oh shit, thought Erin, just as Carla sneezed yet again.

* * *

The rest of the ride had been driven in awkward silence, save for Carla's persistent sneezing fit, which Erin struggled desperately to ignore completely, but found herself unable to ignore it...unable to ignore it completely at least. She pulled over by the entrance of Seven-Eleven, still shaken up over that encounter with the police, her face still blushing with embarrassment. It was perhaps one of the scariest, nerve-wracking experiences of her life, going through the whole field sobriety test, and definitely the most embarrassing. And even afterward, she still found herself aroused by Carla's sneezing fits; she needed an outlet for all this sexual tension; she needed a release for her now unchecked libido.

"I'll try not to be too long, okay?" said Carla in a nasally, stuffed up voice, and then blew her nose with a Kleenex she'd pulled out from her purse as she got out of the car.

“Don't worry about it,” replied Erin, shakily. “Just...just take as long as you need, okay?”

"Are you okay?" asked Erin, worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just do whatever you need to do and I'll wait out here for you to get done. And really, take all the time you need. Honestly. I'll be fine."

"Ummm...well, okay..." And Carla shut the door, no doubt unconvinced that things were truly fine with Erin, but that didn't matter right now at all, did it? They'd somehow deal with this situation later. For now, Erin didn't want to worry about whatever tension there was between them. She simply had enough on her mind at the moment already.

Erin pulled the car slowly into one of the parking slots, brought the transmission to PARK, killed the engine, and then sat there on the driver's seat masturbating as she waited for her friend to finish up with whatever business she had to do here, with the one thought coursing through her mind that she never should have offered to drive Carla to the Seven-Eleven in the first place.

* * *

Carla's head bent back and then thrust forward once more, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she let off with one huge, messy sneeze: "HA-ISHOOO!" with a fine white mist from her lips and twin jets of snot from her tiny nostrils. She took out another Kleenex, wiped the mucous dripping from her nose, and then wiped her watery eyes as well. Christ, she thought wearily, I can't even step out of the house with sneezing my head off.

She thought of Erin, who was usually cool with her allergies and her constant sneezing in general. Oh sure, she would sometimes stare for long periods of time whenever Carla had been caught up with yet another fit of sneezing caught up by these fucking allergies, but otherwise, drew no reaction, save for the usual "bless you", which Carla very often enjoyed hearing after she sneezed, especially from Erin; although she wasn't a big fan of sneezing in public, in front of crowds of people whom she didn't even know, total strangers to her.

She looked at a translucent reflection of herself in the window of the glass doors, and she could tell she was a mess, with her watering, bloodshot eyes and her sore, reddened nose. But what did she care about how she looked. This wasn't her boyfriend, Troy she was meeting (another one of the few people who was cool with Carla's allergies, who never had any kind of reaction other than the same kind of gawking that Erin did, and saying "bless you" after each of Carla's sneezes). This was just some schmuch who emailed her online, offering her some data that she could use for an article for her section in that tabloid magazine she worked for. (She wanted to be a TV journalist, but couldn't stop sneezing in front of the camera, which was very bad when it was being broadcasted. Writing news stories in magazines was a much better line of work for her, and she was a halfway decent writer if she did say so herself. Plus she could sneeze all her tiny nose wanted her to and no one would hear her except possibly Erin). For all she knew, this guy could be a complete and total psychopath, no worse than one of those nuts on the street who'd been raving about how the world was going to end come December 31, 1999 or January 1, 2000 (and seeing as it was well in 2001 by now, there was no doubt about it that those guys were completely full of shit--not that it stopped Weekly World News from ranting about it and upping the dates as we continued to reach the old ones). This was probably a complete waste of her time anyway, and she wanted nothing more than to simply get this bullshit over with and go home, and to help Erin out with whatever it had been that was bothering her.

She was very, very worried about her friend even now. Her behavior in the car just wasn't like her and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that something was wrong.

She opened the entrance glass doors and stepped inside.

It was a nightmare inside that Seven-Eleven; for some reason, it seemed that everybody was sneezing that day, the whole world had one hell of a nasty mass allergy attack. Under some circumstances, Carla would have enjoyed this; it was always nice to see other people sneezing besides her and she always took an immense pleasure out of this; especially when it was Erin or Troy. There was something about being the one to say "bless you" for a change instead of the one being blessed that appealed to her; not that being blessed didn't have it's own pleasantries, particularly when it was either Erin or Troy whom she sneezed in front of and whom blessed her. It somehow made her feel special that they would take the time to even bother with it, especially when it was either Troy or Erin. She rarely said anything to strangers who sneezed (and never told anyone of any of this pleasure she received from it, not even Troy or Erin, the two people she had felt most closest to).

But everything in moderation of course; and everything had a time and place, and regardless of place, this was definitely not the time for any of it. It only served to intensify her own allergies, making her dwell more on them. Sometimes it seemed that merely thinking about sneezing would make her sneeze. And how could she not think about sneezing when every time she turned around, what she saw was someone else caught in the act of sneezing.

She saw a man in his late twenties, long black hair, a lot of stubble on his face, looking as though he hadn't shaved in several days, with a pencil thin mustache had been muttering over and over again: "I'm gonna sneeze...I'm gonna sneeze..." and then, doubling over with great forced, he finally did sneeze: "Hwa-ESHAA! HASHOO! HA-EEESHOOO! Oh man, not done yet...I'm not done yet...I'm gonna sneeze again...I....AAAASHOOOO! HA-ASSHOOOO!" He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and then walked away.

The girl by the cash register, AMBER, it said on her name tag--she had long honey blond hair, a flawless complexion, a physical appearance very similar to Carla's only a few years younger--had her hands cupped over her nose, and Carla new exactly what was going to happen next: "Huh-huh-Esch! hah-ESCHH! Huh-ISHOOO!" she sneezed three times, doubling over herself with the force of her sneezes. And just as she sniffled, probably thinking that she'd been done, she threw her cupped hands over her face again for one last sneeze: "HarASHOOO!" and then pulled a Kleenex out from her purse and blew her nose thoroughly before breathing in a deep sigh of relief.

Carla looked toward the refrigerator containing all the beverages, all the 16-ounce cans and 20-ounce bottles of Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, Sprite, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Nesquik, Jolt, etc. where two guys stood, one white with dirty blond hair, five eight, and a black man, head shaved, with a mustache and goatee. She could see the black man's wide nose twitching as he threw his hands to his face.

"Huh-GyaSHOO!" he sneezed.

"Bless you, Gary," said the white man.

"Thanks, Mel. Huh-ISHOO!"

"Bless you," Mel said.

Gary sneezed a third time.

"Shut up, Gary," Mel said, grinning, and they both burst out laughing.

Carla turned away, her own nose twitching and tickling like crazy. Her eyes watered as she stifled two sneezes and then sighed miserably. She hated stifling, as she would prefer to sneeze naturally and get it all out. But she hated sneezing in public, in large crowds, even more, so it was a drawback she was willing to accept. She looked ahead, to see if she could spot the man she was supposed to meet, wondering if he would be sneezing as well, and as she thought of this, she stifled another sneeze.

She saw a girl, around 19, with long flourishing auburn hair, fair skin with a light sprinkling of freckles over her face, a small, upturned nose, restocking the spice rack. She dropped one of the pepper cases; it had been opened. And as she bent over to pick it up, it exploded, releasing a huge black cloud over her face. She sniffled, coughed, and then cupped her hand over her nose in preparation for a fit of sneezes that sprang forth. "Huh-huh-SHOO! ICHOO! *sniff* ASHOO!" She doubled over with her sneezes as they continued to burst forth. "Ha-esch! Eschoo! Chooo! hachoo! *sniff* Ishoo! Isheeww! Sheeewww!" And Carla wanted to bless this girl as she wanted to bless everyone else in here, but remained silent for fear that speaking up might unleash the sneezes that she fought desperately to hold back.

She walked past the sneezing girl, shocked to find that all the sneezing in here not only served to aggravate her own allergies, making her nose tickle fiercely, but had also made her crotch tingle as well. The wetness she felt between her legs was unbelievable, both enjoyable but also awkward as well. She couldn't believe that any of this was turning her on, but it wouldn't be the first time would it. She had seen others sneezing, enjoyed it, felt wetness, just never to this degree. Then again, she had never seen so much sneezing in one sitting before, had she. It was truly unbelievable--every last bit of it.

"Kmph! Huh-kmph!" she stifled two sneezes, but the third one burst out, refusing to be held back. "Ha-ASHOO!" And they kept on coming from there, some she was able to hide, others, she wasn't so successful. "Ashoo! Kmph! Hitchoo! TCHOOO! SHEEWW! Kmph! Aaaashoooo! Kmph!" She then ran toward the bathroom, her face blushing as red as her sore nose, to let out the rest of her sneezes, complete, and unstifled, rubbing her crotch at the thought of everyone else sneezing along with her in this sneezing orgy she seemed to be caught up in.

* * *

"Carla Gibbs," called a well-manicured man in a charcoal suit and black tie as Carla left the bathroom, rubbing her nose vigorously and sniffling, hoping she had gotten all the sneezes out of her system, but somehow doubting that that was the case at all. "I'm the man that emailed you."

"You...you are?" replied Carla in a nasally voice as she stifled another sneeze.

"That's right," he said. "Let's go, I've got something to give you."

Carla followed her, reluctantly, sneezing three times, and then stifling two more, and getting yelled at by her new informant for sneezing so much, the crude bastard, and then the two of them went outside and she followed him hesitantly to his car, with Carla thinking again and again in between her sneezes which so irritated the informant: Aw man, this is a bad idea, this is such a bad idea! I am sooo going to regret this! It is just such a bad idea!

* * *

"Huh-HASHOOO!"

"For the last time, Miss Gibbs, shut the hell up."

"*sniff*yeah, whatever," replied Carla. "Most people just say 'bless you' you know."

"I'm not most people."

"Well, if my sneezing's really bugging you that much, then maybe you should put out that fucking cigarette seeing as it's only exacerbating the problem."

The informant took a huge puff of his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke in Carla's face, making her cough harshly and sneeze a few more times as well: "Huh-Choo! Tchoo! Ichoo! Sheeewww! ASHOOO! *sniff*, bastard."

"I said shut the fuck up, Carla!" snapped the informant.

"Fuck you, you worthless son of a bitch! ACHOOO! *sniff*" And she blew her nose with a Kleenex, then wiped her watery eyes as well with the back of her hand, wanting nothing more than to get out of this car and away from this jerk as fast as she could. She stifled another sneeze for the simple reason that she didn't want to give this asshole anything further to whine and bitch about. "Just give me whatever it is you wanna give me so I can go home now. I'm really starting to wish I never bothered to show up in the first place."

The informant pulled out a CD. “Put this into your computer. It contains hard documented evidence of government conspiracies dating back to Roswell.”

“What the hell is this, The X-Files? Government conspiracies and crap like that? ‘Hey, watch out, big brother might be listening in.’” Carla giggled softly, then burst out laughing.

“Yeah, very funny.”

Could you go into detail as to what's on the disk?”

“Check it out for yourself. Some pretty sick, disturbing shit. Documented proof that the government has known about the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence for almost 55 years. The countless mind-control experiments they’ve been doing on countless citizens, the drugs they’ve exposed to unsuspecting small town populaces. JFK. Everything. All the cover-ups, the experimentations, the whole nine yards. Two years ago, the NSA tested a series of chemical and biological weapons on a small rural town in Utah and made it look like a small viral outbreak. The CDC was involved, and the whole town was closed off, everyone quarantined. Out of a population of a little over 200, there were no survivors.”

Carla stared in shocked disbelief, struggling to digest all that this man had told her. She opened her mouth finally, after rubbing a finger slowly beneath her itching nose, and said: “No way. No way, man. You’re crazy. Stuff like that…it just doesn’t happen…not in real life, it doesn’t. Maybe on The X-Files, but not in real life.”

“How can you be so sure. My partner died trying to get this information out to the public. Shot in the head by a sniper’s bullet and killed instantly. His family, and a great deal of his friends were also killed from an explosive device set off at his funeral. The government made it look like an act of terrorism. The only reason I wasn’t there was because they had sent me on assignment that day—”

Carla interrupted the man from speaking suddenly as she immediately turned away from the informant and sneezed one great, loud, wet and messy sneeze into her cupped hands: “ISHEWWW! Whew!”

“STOP SNEEZING!”

“Fuck you! *sniff* Hitchoo! Just tell me what this is all about, huh? Why me? Why are you giving me the disk and not someone else. What makes you think I want anything to do with it? What makes you think I even believe you in the first place, Mister?”

"I'm giving this to you so you can write an article in your magazine and expose these sons of  bitches and put an end to their shit once and for all."

"I work for the Weekly World New. No one takes that seriously," she laughed. "Sorry, but you'll have to find someone else if you expect this to accomplish anything. Like maybe Time or Newsweek or something like that."

The informant snuffed his cigarette into the ashtray, extinguishing the flame with an ascending wave of gray smoke, some of which went up Carla’s nose, tickling her way-too-sensitive nasal membranes, leaving a burning itch in the back of her nose that lingered on and refused to go away. She rubbed her fingers furiously against her, trying to either make the tickle go away or urge a sneeze to come on. She knew if she started sneezing now, the way her nose burned, she might not be able to stop for quite awhile, but this burning itch was pure torture and she wanted desperately to be rid of it. Her eyes began to water and mucous dripped from her nostrils. She sniffled, her breathing now becoming ragged as she felt herself slowly building into a major sneeze attack.

Her informant appeared to either not notice or not care in the slightest what was happening to her. He simply placed the CD gently into Carla’s hand. “With this in your possession, your life will now be in danger. The government will stop at nothing to prevent this information from seeping out into the public. That’s why you have to be careful. And that’s why you need to act fast and get this to the public through your newspaper ASAP. The faster you act, the less chance the government has of silencing you for good before you can expose their dirty little lies.”

Carla nodded, tears flooding her eyes, which were now becoming itchy and bloodshot, even worse than before.

She bolted out of the car, slamming the door and feeling the piercing rays of sunlight hitting her face. It was then that the sneezes finally burst out of her, overwhelming her and barely giving her time to breath in between sneezes before she had to sneeze again. “Huh-Hachoo! HACHOO! HA-ISHOO! SHEEEW Ha-AHshoo! HARASHOOOOO!”

As she continued to sneeze her cute little head off, the informant simply lit himself another cigarette as he started his car. His engine hummed into life and he spared one final stone-faced glance toward Carla, caught in the grips of a massive and merciless sneezing fit, and then pulled out of the parking slot and quickly drove off.

Carla continued to sneeze, the force of her sneezes growing stronger and more intense with each sneeze she sneezed. She doubled over, her blond hair flopping over her shoulders and in front of her face her sneezes continued to push her entire head forward. “Huh-CHOO! HESHOO! Harashoo! Eschoo! ASHOOOO!” She could only hope that she wouldn’t draw a gathering crowd around her, that people wouldn’t stop by and gawk at her in the midst of the dreadful sneezing attack. And she just went on sneezing into her hands, barely even noticing as the CD that her informant had given her slipped out of her fingers and fell to the ground by her feet. “Heh-heh-CHOO! Sheeew! Hah-SHEEW! HEH-CHOO TCHOO! Harashoo!”

She stopped sneezing after awhile, her nose now completely stuffed up and dripping from both nostrils and her eyes watering uncontrollably. She blinked repeatedly to try and get some of the water out of her eyes and clear her vision. She then reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of Kleenex and gave her poor reddened nose a good hearty blow to clear out all of the mucous. She moaned as she felt her temples beginning to throb painfully—these allergies really were a real pain in the ass at times, no doubt about it.

She looked at the ground, where the CD had fallen and was now lying, with sunlight gleaming brightly off the back of it. For a second, she considered picking it up off the ground, but instead merely kicked it away and headed back to her car where Erin was no doubt still waiting for her.

Let someone else find and expose the truth if they wanted to. She wanted nothing to do with it.

* * *

“So what was that all about?” asked Erin as Carla returned to the car.

“Some freak who obviously can't stand hearing people sneezing for whatever reason.” Carla laughed bitterly.

How ANYONE could POSSIBLY have a problem with your sneezing, Carla, I will never know, Erin thought, but of course didn't dare say.

“He handed me this CD that supposedly contains hard and damning evidence of the government's dirty work, conspiracies and shit like that,” explained Carla.

“What'd you do with it?”

“*sniff* I threw it away. It's probably bullshit anyway. That freaks sick idea of a joke. And even if it's real, I don't wanna have to deal with the government on my tail as well. Probably wind up missing or dead and don't want either fate, thank you very much. ASHOO!”

Erin nodded.

“You were right; I never should have even bothered with this in the first place.”

“Told ya,” Erin said, and then giggled.

Carla smiled as she ruffled her friends caramel hair. “Hey, how about if you get in the passenger side, Erin,” she suggested. “I don't know what's wrong with you today, and if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, I guess. I'll respect that. For now. But I think we'd both be better off if I drive us home. Kay?”

“Yeah,” Erin agreed, sighed, and then giggled nervously as her cheeks blushed brightly, embarrassed all over again. “You're probably right about that.” And she crawled over to the passenger seat.

And as Carla sat down in the driver's seat, she noticed a patch of warm wetness in the middle, now soaking the seat of her pants. She smiled discreetly, knowing instinctively somehow where it had come from and what had caused Erin's reckless driving on there way to Seven-Eleven, though not fully comprehending where her own pleasure had been coming from. It didn't matter though. She enjoyed it nonetheless, and found her own hand, almost on it's own accord, slipping into her pants and massaging her own moist, wet clit in blissful reverie.

 

The end.

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