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There was one car that was purely speed… until he rammed into a brick wall, of course. His wife mourned his passing and buried herself in her room. The body of Lightning McQueen was dumped in a car graveyard and was left alone, until one car came by and crushed it even more. Yeah, big hotshot racecar Lightning McQueen was out of the way and Sally was all alone, vulnerable and liable for love. What happens when a car filled with lust goes after a girl he has long sought after?
One big oily oil job happens, that’s what.
Francesco Bernoulli had always suffered the hots for Sally. Now was his chance to envelope her with his love. He entered the house, which doors were unlocked, and he found Sally inside her room still sobbing. He nudged her and she looked at him. It was true love, vibrating between them… and then that vibration got physical and there was passionate car sex as they got down to it. It lasted for a few minutes before Sally forced the formula one out of her house and continued her mourning.
Oh, but aren’t Italians stubborn? He waited outside her house until she finally came rushing back out. Uh-oh, the stoned hippie bus was watching them with great intent. Being only a flimsy formula one car, Francesco invited the bus to join in and they went to a beach for some nastier car sex. But this was threesome time, of course, where they tried the airplane, the wheel-mouth, and squirted oil everywhere. You could hear the engines igniting from over a mile away, and if you came, you could see the tongues flicking inside and out the exhaust pipes.
Of course, the hippie got tired and drove away, but the other two weren’t about to let him get away and they dragged him back, slaughtered the bus and rolled around the seats when they split the roof off.
“Oh, Sally,” moaned Francesco. “oh, ooooh, my pipes are soooo rusty.”
“Let me cure them, hon,” Sally murmured and with a flick of her tongue, began to clean out the rust. She let oil dribble over her mouth as he went into reverse and of course, the exhaust pipes suddenly went all hard and warm.
Francesco mounted the back of Sally and began to let his open wheels rub against her and she began to moan and groan with pleasure. Finally, Sheriff spotted them and stopped the lovemaking in its tracks. The two lovers froze but relaxed when Sheriff just went away mumbling, “I didn’t see nothing….”
“Bash me harder, harder you pasta loving monster!” screamed Sally and she let the racecar bump the back of her making several dents. She went into licking up the oil leaks that Francesco had had, and she rolled around in the gasoline that he had squirted.
Rolling his tire in some mud that had fallen off of his back end, Francesco wiped it on Sally to give her a “dirty Chick Hicks” and they continued their noisy lovemaking ritual.
Later, ashamed of selling her body out, Sally committed suicide and she threw herself out into the alleyway before she died. Francesco, the persistent car he was, saw her body and fell beside her and moaned, “She is gone!” but then he had an even better idea.
NECROPHILIA!
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