Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wanderlust part 47 "Do we fuck too much?"
Bleh. Just up a little while ago. The last few hours of sleep were plagued by dreams of people pursuing me and telling he I was a terrible writer. No shit. And I woke up all shaky and freaked out the way I tend to when a dream scares me to a certain level. The man is making me coffee and I'm wondering how I let these things bother me. I guess a better question is, how do I not?
Bottom line is, i can't do anything about the dream but let it pass. So pass it will. Here we go. Wanderlust, ahoy...
by Sommer Marsden
I floated on it, the pill and the feel of him touching me. I kissed him almost desperately, though my body felt light and untethered.
“Hurt me,” I said in his ear. His fingers delved and dipped into me. His hand moving as he gauged my arousal.
I gasped as my body tightened around his fingers, my hips moved up. Writhing like I was underwater, twisting in a wave. A mermaid caught in her own net of pleasure. His mouth bullied mine, his tongue hot and sweet on my tongue.
“But I want it,” I murmured.
Johnny rested his lips to my ear, his voice no more than an exhalation. “You might want it, but it’s not what you need.”
I did need it, didn’t I? I needed that sharp bite of pain to focus me, to cleanse me, to soothe me. He turned me on my side to face away from him and I thought about struggling but didn’t. When my back was to him, Johnny hooked my leg with his big arm, draping the hinge of my knee over the crook of his arm. His teeth scraped the back of my neck, his chest pressed to my shoulder blades. I could feel his heart beating. He moved me so I opened for him and then he entered me from behind.
I bit my lip. Wanting to beg him to do what I asked, but what he was giving me was too good to shut off. He moved slow. He didn’t talk.
The room was lightening with dawn and I succumbed to his will. He kept his lower arm wrapped around my waist, the other still held my leg. His cock filling me and stretching me. Teeth crimped flesh over my pulse and I felt that flutter and burst of uneasy arousal. The potential for pain pressed to my flesh in the guise of his beloved mouth.
“Right now I want to give you what you need,” he said.
I shook my head, my eyes stinging with tears all the sudden. That stupid pill should have taken care of the irrational tears and the anxiety induced mood swings.
“You deserve to get what you need,” he said.
I shook my head again.
“Yes, you do.” He soothed the spot his teeth had worried with his tongue and I shivered.
I shook my head again but said nothing as he readjusted his hips and thrust in at a different angle. An angle that nudged my G-spot so that a pleasant heaviness filled my limbs, my womb.
“No,” I said.
“Yes, Really,” he countered. “Where were you?”
“Punishing yourself, I suspect.”
“Maybe some of that,” I laughed. But it was a sad laugh. A tired laugh. The laugh that showed up when the fear did.
“This is what you need, Snowflake. Kindness.”
I opened my mouth to answer and a sob hitched up out of me so unexpectedly my body shook with it. The arm around my waist held me tighter even as he splayed his fingers low so they brushed my mound. Not touching my clit—not yet—but promising it.
When he pulled my top leg up a touch higher, I let him, to help him open me up, get his cock deeper. Johnny levered me forward just a bit, so that I bent at the waist just a enough, and when he did that, I started to come. The friction of it all—the goodness of it all—so fucking unbearable, I couldn’t do anything but let myself fall into it. At the tail end of that orgasm, he slid the arm under me lower and his fingers found me. Rubbing with swift slippery circles so that I came again almost immediately.
He let my leg go, bent me forward a little more and wrapped my hair in his fist, holding me tight, fucking me hard and coming with a satisfied grunt.
“There,” he said, almost conversationally.
Outside a car door slammed, muted back drop noise to our breathing.
“There,” I echoed, wiping the wetness off my face. My chest still ached from all the fucking feelings.
He rolled to his back and pulled me against his chest.
“Do we fuck too much?” I asked him, the shell of my ear resting over his heart so the steady pound filled my tired mind.
“There’s no such thing,” he chuckled. “Not when you—“
I was almost asleep but his sudden silence roused me. “When you what?”
“Nothing, Really. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
And I was too tired to argue. I was almost under when, with a thick tongue, I blurted, “I took a pill.”
“Was it a pill you were meant to take?” he asked. I could feel he had gone on alert. As if I’d crawled out of this bed to score some illicit drug and had proceeded to OD. It almost made me laugh. But I was too exhausted to laugh and too touched that he even cared. All of me felt numb and calm and drowsy.
“Yeah. They’re mine. I just never ever take them,” I mumbled. “Ever,” I added.
“Why?” He was touching my hair in the dark. It was the most soothing thing I could imagine feeling. His hands in my hair, stroking.
“They make me weaker than I already am,” I confessed. And then I fell all the way under to darkness with Johnny’s fingers tangled in my hair.