Sadie Mae The Whore

Random whoredom, boredom or call it what you might—Sadie Mae knew that Mercedes was not the kind of kid who got uptight about a little public nudity. She was most certainly not a prude. She liked to get her big breasts out in public and liked to fuck in front of others as well.

Mercedes portrayed herself avidly as an east coast whitegal preppie debutante with debauchery and narcissism her stock in trade.
As it often is in such cases, Mercedes shot her yip off about her family and all that—how rich they were and how many houses they had and where. Famous people in government and industry and the arts and sciences she was related to. Fucksters all.
It was almost as if Mercedes's family's prominence had come about because of their traditional ancestral bouts with the fucksudkrut. Such a brood needed a lot of joyjuice passed between them to keep the blueblood genes flowing.
Mercedes's offhand remarks about brothers and sisters blowing and sucking. Sibling fucking.

Sadie Mae was therefore under the impression that rich people in their estates and compounds and private beaches—this was the height of discretion—explored the same reaches of depravity and obsession as did the stereotypic view attribute—as a for-instance—to the denizens of the American redneck outback.
"Now, tell me truly. How would you all define an Arkansas virgin?"
"Why, sir—that's a sister who can run faster than her brothers. Ask me another."
Trailer park frolics.
Sex-mad carnies. And of course those smirking cracks about blacks or jigaboos or what have you fucking like junglebun-nies in the ghetto. Or the kinky spic kicks wetbacks were supposedly into.

Mick tricks behind the lace curtains of animalistic Irish immigrants.
Economic and ethnic and social class distinctions were aimless when one regarded the overall pattern of human shamelessness. v-
Such remarks were well applied to the carnality of the rich and famous.
Sadie Mae saw that all of the trashmouthing about people's cultures was the work of vultures who fed on the carrion of incivility.
Propriety was simply a guise.
Guilt and shame were manipulative games.
People were all the same.
They all opened their legs and spread their fannies wide.
AH stuck their penises inside.
Here upper-crusty whitebitch Mercedes had already screwed—and she blew them too—two dudes in the booth at Uncle Roy's Roadhouse saloon.
And now it seemed as though Mercedes were coming on to Sadie Mae.
Sadie Mae knew enough not to let words get in the way.
But her head was in disarray.
She had heard of lesbians. Women who were queer for each other. Liked to play kissyface.