Thursday, April 21, 2011

Cheater Pants Revisited: Wanderlust part 38 "the weirdest man ever" & Wanderlust part 39 "bondage psychotherapy"

Yeah, yeah, I'm cheating. So sue me...Morning, all


part 39
by Sommer Marsden

“How long do you think it will take us to get there?”

“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.”

“Is that the world according to Johnny Turner Rose?”

“Please,” he said and waved a hand at me, “no middle names.”

I laughed. “Sorry.”

“And it was Lao Tzu who said that.”

“You are the weirdest man ever.”

“Thank you.”

I was starving and he had headed toward the restaurants and motels the roadside signs had promised. The silk tie was still draped over his thigh and it made me wet every time I glanced at it. By the time we were alone, I’d be so slippery he’d damn near fall into me.

The Chevy barreled down a black top road with freshly painted yellow slashes in the center. On either side, open fields and on the right our headlights threw a dilapidated barn into the spotlight. It seemed to seemed to belong to no one at all. I couldn’t see a farmhouse no matter how hard I looked. The stark lonely blankness of the whole tableau felt almost welcoming. Peaceful.

We ate at a place called Jolene’s. Not really a diner, more of a hole in the wall bar that happened to serve food. What I would call a honky tonk. Country music played on the juke box and our waitress wore a shirt so tight I could see the indentation of her navel.

I ate ribs and corn and cole slaw, Johnny got a steak. I was starving but didn’t eat. Ravenous but the food did nothing for me. I drank a Pabst Blue Ribbon (on tap, no less) and picked at my ribs.

“I thought you were hungry.” He popped his last fry in his mouth and studied me. I felt naked under that gaze of his.

“I am.”

“You're not eating.”

I shrugged.

“You tired?” He finished off his beer and waved a finger at our server.

She came right to him, like a well trained puppy. He seemed to have that effect on folks. Women, especially.

“Yes and no. I feel wired. Like in college when we’d do uppers and then drink. That buzzed, twitchy kind of thing.”

“Oh, a dark and illegal past.”

“Yeah, I’m a rebel.”

He put money down and caught me staring.

“What?” His big hand plucked mine from the table and he squeezed my fingers. “You surprised I have money?”

I smiled and said, “Yes and no?”

“There must be an echo in here.”

“I just…you were a waiter. A roofer. A candlestick maker?”

“I do odd jobs. I have low overhead.” His face went serious, almost cruel. “No family to take care of. It’s easy to sock some of it away.”

“Fair enough.”

“You ready to go?”

I nodded again. I could feel the watch in my pocket, the round outline pressing against my skin through my jeans. “Yep.”

“Melancholy?” he asked.

It startled me. I don’t know why. It was the exact emotion I was feeling and hadn’t been able to pin point. “Yeah. Creepy much?”

He grinned at me. “It’s a gift. Plus, I recognize it. We’re old friends, melancholy and myself.”

I followed him out, feeling our waitresses eyes on him and her disappointment o see him go. I also felt a stab of jealousy at her attentions.

Our motel tonight was a one level, ugly rose-colored stucco building with a neon sign out front that said VACA--Y.

“You ready for vacay?” he asked, putting the car in park.

He grabbed our bags and I followed him up to the door. His boots crunching over the gravel that lined the walkway.

“Sure thing.” Ready to get naked. Ready to get fucked. Ready to sleep under the watchful eye of Johnny. We pushed into the dimly lit lobby.

Fallon. That was her name according to the gold tag she wore. And she stared me down from behind her too-black bangs. Her gaze on Johnny was much more welcoming. Flirtatious. Slutty.

“Just one?” she asked.

Even though the bitch could see me.

He suppressed a grin and somehow that annoyed me more than her dumb ass question. “Two,” he said.

“Fill this out,” she said, pushing a paper toward him. “Mr. and Mrs…?”

“We’re not married,” I snapped. I did my best not to feel any anger or jealousy. A woman like this—a girl, really—could smell it a mile away. And they liked it.

“Oh,” she said, her voice going up at the end of the word.

Johnny pushed the paper back, dropped some bills on the counter. “Is that enough or a night?”

“You’re due some change,” she said and turned to get it, putting way more sway in her step than she needed to. Displaying a small ass in tight skinny jeans—jet black of course.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to blush, but I felt the heat rising to my cheeks anyway.

Johnny saw me and his arm snaked around my neck as he pulled me to him. Pressing his lips to my ear, he said, “I’m going to fuck you until you weep when I get you in that room.”

And then I was blushing for an entirely different reason. And I couldn’t help but give her an eat-shit-and-die glance when we left. If only I had know.


There was no headboard. Odd, but true. He tugged me to the open closet.

“Put your arms up, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear and I did. He’d stripped me bare and I stood there in nothing but my earrings. Johnny tied my arms to the metal rod in the barren space. He leaned and kissed me almost chastely. Then he said, “Be right back. I’m going to take a shower.”

“I…what?” I blinked at him, feeling slow and stupid. Was he fucking serious?

“I’m going to take a shower. And then I’ll be back.” He said. He wasn’t smiling, but fuck me hard, his eyes were.

“You’re going to leave me here?”

“Think of it as meditation.”

“Are you insane?”

He shrugged, his big shoulders moving casually. “Maybe.”

“Don’t’ leave me here,” I said. I was going to cry. Which was completely fucking asinine. He wasn’t leaving the state, just the room, but still…Invisible cracks of black fear and red anger opened all over me. My skin stung with the force of my emotion.

“I’ll be back.”


“Aurelia,” he said sternly and leveled a finger at me.

I shut up. Will wonders never cease. I shut up, but my vision had already doubled and then trebled with tears by the time he was out of my line of sight.

I waited until the water cut on to let the sob rip loose of me. It came barreling from me like some invisible creature. I shivered, hanging there, crying, my hair in my face, feeling like a fool. A wet-between-the-legs for him idiot. One who would be waiting right here for him when he came back.

part 39
by Sommer Marsden

And come back he did. Naked, rubbing his head stubble with yet another cheap white towel. His cock was hard, jutting out from a thatch of dark pubic hair. Small beads of water remained on his skin and I envied them. I wanted to lick them off of him or feel them destroyed between us when he pressed his body to mine.

“See what it did to me knowing you were hanging out here waiting for me.” He moved in close, his erection pressing to my hip as he traced the silk tie that bound me to the metal bar. “How do you feel?”



“Because you left me out here.”

“But I was right there.”

“I know.”

“Why were you scared?”

Now I felt angry. What the fuck was this. Bondage psychotherapy?

I shook my head, felt my lips press together and my eyes narrow. I had not been in a good mood since Fallon and now I was pissed.

“Why, Really?” He prodded.

“I don’t know.”

He turned me. I didn’t have much choice but to go, tied up to that eye-level clothing rod. I turned and he delivered one hard smack to my ass. The sound was deafening in the silent room. We hadn’t even flipped the TV on.

I was determined not to make a sound.


“I don’t know,” I lied.

Smack, smack, smack. Heat bloomed in my skin and in my pussy. My body revved up and readied itself for him, recalling the car. The punishment he’d delivered. And the pleasure.

“I think you do.” He pressed his mouth to my ear, his stubble biting the back of my neck. His arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me back to him. My back pressed to his chest, his belly, his hard cock. My eyes slammed shut, my mouth went dry.

God, I wanted him.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. It was nothing more than a puff of air. Barely a sound.

Four more smacks and I could feel the redness, feel my pulse beating in my skin.

“All you have to do is tell me.”

My cunt grew tight, urging me to tell the truth. I bit my tongue, remembered the greedy look of the girl in the lobby. She wanted him. Wanted what I felt should be mine, even though the object of my coveting had made it clear he was a free agent. Didn’t do monogamy well, he’d said.

That’s what made it so hard to admit to him.

“Tell me.”

“You make me feel—“ I bit my tongue. Shook my he had. My hair hung in my face and I hid behind it willingly.

“Come on, Really, talk to daddy.”

An ugly laugh burst out of me. “Daddy is the last name you want to invoke,” I growled.

“Tell daddy what’s the matter.”

He was baiting me.

“Fuck off.”

I got five for that one. And they were hard. Strung together like surges of heat lightning during a late summer storm. My body thrummed, my eyes prickled with tears.

“Why did you get upset?”

“Because you make me feel safe, you ass!” I roared.

And he laughed. There was that laugh again.

But his thick finger delved into my pussy from behind. I was so hot and tight and swollen that one measly finger caused me to moan. Caused my body to clutch up around him.

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” I said and that was the truth.

“How do you feel?”


He added a second finger.

“How would you feel if your father was looking for you?”

“Pissed,” I breathed. Another finger joined the fray and he was thrusting, curling, pounding into me with those fingers. Invading my body with his hand and my soul with his questions.

“How do you feel that he’s not looking for you?”

“Pissed,” I sobbed.

“Do you detect a theme, Really?”

I nodded. Exhausted by this stupid exercise in Aurelia Blake.

Johnny held my hips and tilted them toward him. He stepped right up behind me, kicking my ankles apart a bit. I tilted my ass up for him. I hung there limply, letting the weight of my body hurt my shoulder sockets and not caring.

He slid into me with a groan. A man sinking into a hot bath, a comfortable chair…a willing woman. He started to move, both thrusting to me and pulling me to him. He filled me utterly, his lips pressed to the back of my neck as he fucked me.

I made nonsense sounds. I shook my head and tried to hold on but he read me well and reached around me, stroking my clit. I gave up my orgasm easily. It slipped out of me as fluidly as my breath.

It didn’t take much longer for him. Johnny came with a single grunt and a single word. “Really.”


*click the brooch to purchase...


  1. Heh, bondage psychotherapy. Glad you didn't leave us hanging in the cupboard.

  2. Knew there was spanking on her horizon. lol He certainly put the tie to good use.

    BTW, you can surprise me with two installments any time. Can't get enough ;)

    brooch? is that another surprise?

  3. This is so cool, Sommer. I booked your blog on my ereader, and every day when I turn it on, I can check to see if there is a new installment and read it right there.

    Thanks for the story :)I'm totally hooked!

  4. Overnight is too long to hang in a cupboard (closet), Jo. :)

    The pic of Indiana is a brooch. It's cool! I think you'll like tomorrow's, Cass.

    Kiki, that is too cool! I am incredibly flatteredd to be in your ereader! It's like magic, right? LOL


  5. Wow, a two-fer. Yes! Also, I'm also one of your followers that go to your blog in the morning. I pour my coffee and cross my fingers in hope that you have the next installment posted. Johnny and coffee are very nice to wake up to. ( shh! Don't tell my husband)

  6. That is awesome, Janeen. You rock! Heh. Come to think of it, I have Johnny with my coffee, too! :)


  7. Closet! You're not wrong. Oops! And giggle.

  8. ha! i just thought it was an Irish/American thing! lol. cupboard/closet...close enough.


  9. Oh my! What a fine set of updates to come home to.

    Oh, and since when is bondage not psychotherapy? It takes you down into that deep, dark place where you hide, and shines a light into the corners so you can't hide there anymore.

  10. yay! welcome back, CJ.

    and I agree about bondage. I guess Really just wasn't expecting it, now was she? poor thing.



What sayest thou?