Sunday, May 22, 2011
Wanderlust part 67 "THE END"
Many, many miles, mucho diners, tons of hotel rooms. Ups, downs, ins, outs, kinks and vanilla. It's been a hell of a ride, folks. And I was so damned honored to wake up with you every day and read your comments and share this trip.
Wanderlust weighed in around 88K, but I got so much more out of it than word count. When I started, I didn't know if I could do it. I never considered that beyond the challenge, I'd have the added bonus of really getting to know all of you. :)
You rock. You roll. You boogie to the music. And I hope you'll keep coming back to see me.
by Sommer Marsden
I sat in the middle of the floor, laughing. The landlord, his name was James Dalton, had given us two weeks to live here, prove employment and start paying first month rent, last month rent and security deposit. He’d left Johnny with a, “You look like a nice couple and the missus and I were young once, too.”
“It’s too surreal to be real.”
“True.” He dropped down next to me. Together, we eyed the small room. There was a heater built into the wall, a Murphy bed build into the wide walk in closet. A small kitchen and then the actal closet that housed the bed—which was the size of a small ante room with built-in drawers and a counter—led into a small bathroom.
“This gives efficiency a new name.”
“Our bed falls out of the closet,” I snorted.
“It folds out. Not falls.”
I stared at it. “I’m pretty sure if we touch it it’s going to fall.”
I couldn’t really breathe and I could see him watching me. I struggled for air and he said, “Hey…”
I held up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine. My body does not know I’m excited. It things I’m stressed,” I giggled.
He stared at me, half smiling, half frowning. Johnny couldn’t figure out what to do.
“We have a place,” he said.
“We have a place,” I echoed.
“I can’t breathe,” I said.
“I can see that.”
And that’s when he tangled his big hand in my hair and wrapped it in his fist. He tugged me up—not too rough, but just hard enough to make me gasp with excitement. He grabbed the Murphy bed and tugged. When it was half down, he hooked his work boot in the end and pushed it flat. He stripped his flannel off, laid it down and pushed me back on the shirt that was filleted open like a small blanket.
“Take your pants off.” He released my hair and started tugging the bottom of my jeans before I even had the button popped.
“What, what, what?” I chanted, but I was working my button with trembling fingers.
He whisked them away so fast it was like a magic trick. I nearly expected a tada! out of him. In true Johnny fashion, he removed his clothes with efficient movements and leaned in, kissing me hard, making my mouth submit to his will.
I was desperate for it. I needed to be grounded, tamed, calmed—whatever you wanted to call it, I needed him.
He flipped me at the same instant he said, “Turn over”. As if I had choice. He had me up on hands and knees, knocking my legs wider. The Murphy bed complained gently with a little squeaky sound and Johnny caught my hair up in his hand again so that I made a similar sound.
“It’ll be okay,” he muttered to me. Because he knew that was the root of my worry.
“Yes,” I agreed and sank back to meet him when I felt his cock stroke along the wet slit of my pussy and then he was in me, thrusting hard, tugging my hair. His free hand splayed possessively on my lower back.
“It will be fine.” He smacked my ass and I hissed but then I relaxed back into his grip.
“More. Please.” There was a humbling begging quality to my voice. “Please,” I breathed again.
He chuckled and hit me again. The other cheek shrieked with sudden rippling pain and then it bled into a dull thump, causing my cunt to beat faster along with my heart.
“Yes,” I sighed. I tried to let my head fall forward, to surrender to the pleasure and the pain and the fear and the soothing. But he still had me caught up in his grip. He held me there, tugging my hair back so my neck was straighter than I liked.
“Heads up,” he joked, but his voice had gone softer, deeper. “Life ahead. We’ll be fine.”
“We will.” I thrust back against him, spearing myself on him. Losing myself to him.
He alternated blows in earnest now. The crack and snap of the spanks filling our tiny little apartment. My body hummed with pleasure and my cunt gripped up around him. I stared at our new shared ceiling and confessed.
“God, Johnny. God, baby. I’m going to come if you keep—“
He did keep it up. He gave me six more blows and then stopped, releasing my hair, gripping my hips, slamming into me with his own urgent need. The heat from my ass traveled like a stain under my skin into my pussy, down my thighs, up my lowered back and when he gripped me just a touch tighter and growled, “Mine. You’re mine now.” I came.
We were silent for a moment, and then dropped to our bed. A bit too close to the top it seemed, because the foot of the bed jumped off the floor and I gave a startled squeak.
Then Johnny was laughing at me and I was laughing at him.
“Best bed ever,” he said.
I spread myself out over him—naked body and soul—and listened to his heart beating.
We had no curtains yet, just the very well-worn cheap shades. The sun was doing its best to stab me in my eyeballs. I was pretty sure I would be blind for life. I heard the front door and shielded my face before I opened my eyes to look.
“Where were you?”
“Out front. We have breakfast.”
“Scrounged car food?” I laughed.
“Nope. Our new landlord, Mr. Dalton came by with his wife. They didn’t come in because I told them you were still sleeping. There is a whole care package here and a few phone numbers for me to find some landscaping work. Or roofing, construction, all that shit.”
I raised up on my elbows. “Jeeze,” I said.
He smiled, waving some donuts and a packet of coffee at me. “I know right?”
“Do we even have a coffee pot?”
He nodded, moving past me into the kitchen. But not before stooping to drop a kiss on my forehead. Johnny Rose looked damn near…domesticated. In a huge, bald, scarred kind of way.
“Yep. Comes with the unit.”
I wrapped myself in his flannel and hurried into the kitchen. “We have like…magical apartment fairy godparents.”
“Someone’s smiling on us.”
I froze. “I didn’t think you believed much in that stuff.”
He eyed me. “Never have. Much. Until now.”
I smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. He caught me up, by surprise and sat my bare ass on the counter. I’d have to clean that.
“It won’t always be easy, Really,” he said seriously staring me in the eye.
“Things go wrong,” he said.
“But I still love you,” I sang softly, recalling a snippet of lyrics from a Chris Isaac song.
“And we’ll fight, you know.”
“Sometimes you might not even like me very much.” As he said it he was parting my thighs enough to step between them. He kissed my neck and put his hands under the shirt to find my breasts.
“I know that too. And ditto for you.”
“That’s fine,” he said, pressing against me with his now-hard cock. Too bad he still had his jeans on.
“It better be,” I sighed, because he was tweaking my nipples with sharp little pinches.
Were we about to christen the kitchen?
“It is because we’ll get through it. If we try. And we’re patient. We will get through anything. And I promise you, I’ll take care of you,” he said. His blue-blue eyes were begging me to believe him.
I cupped his face in my hands and grinned. “I know you will, Johnny. Because you’re a good man.”
And this time when I said it, he didn’t correct me.