Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 114

Wanderlust part 34 "I got a girl..."

Happy Sunday, folks. Part 34, ahoy.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. gosh I want that little pendant thingy. might have to order it.

Wanderlust
part 34

by Sommer Marsden

There was a water stain on the ceiling. It was shaped like West Virginia. I studied it as he pushed the head of his cock to the tight star of my anus and I heard him say "breathe".

Half command, half reassurance. I sucked in a deep breath, blew it out and there was an inch more and then another and then he was past that stubborn ring of muscle and he froze. We both froze.

Johnny traced patterns no my skin. A soft fingertip skating along my lower back, up my spine. He brushed his hand over my shoulders and slipped his hand under my hair to palm the back of my neck.

I was lulled by it. The snake charmer charming the serpent. I went boneless and that is when he started to move. Slowly at first, letting me adjust. I thought of nothing but the sensation. How full I was and how his cock, deep in my body, nudged my nerve ending to the point of blissful confusion.

My cunt beat in time with my heart, still tender from being used and now thumping with arousal—wanting to be filled but denied the fullness.

"Put your hand under your body," he said.

Out in the parking lot a car door slammed. People were coming and going and arriving and sleeping. All of this happening while Johnny Rose was taking my cherry. Ass fucking—I was getting in.

My crazy train of thought made me laugh—it had a high nervous, slightly scary sound to it. But another sound, too. The laugh of a free woman.

I pushed my hand under myself as he continued to move in and out of me, his cock so perfectly big. Just enough pinch and sizzle of pain to make my demanding pussy ache that much more. I wanted to come. I needed to come.

Flat on my face, pinned by him. taken and used and ordered and handled. It was all about letting him. Letting him. For an I-will-do-it person, letting is the hardest part.

Not on my hands and knees, not on my belly, but hovering in some no-man's land in between. He had me suspended and unable to tell up from down at any given moment, I did what he said, pushing my face to the bedding that smelled like cheap detergent and dust, my hand moving, my body growing tighter and tighter for a release that I somehow want to study—because it was all new—but was too caught up in to care.

"Can you feel it?" he asked, his voice darker than I'd ever heard it.

"If this is a big penis joke I—"

He pinched me—fast and hard—and the pain that rolled through my skin seemed to fill my pussy and echo deep in my body. My heartbeat sped and I swallowed, wishing to come, hoping I wouldn't. Not yet.

He slammed into me, his pelvis banging the back of my hips. My ass tight around his thrusting cock, his breath a hot wash of air on my naked back.

He tried again. "Can you feel how your pussy reacts to this?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"It's like an absence," I managed. Stroking my clit faster with slippery fingers—I couldn't help it. When he talked this way it got into my head, insinuated itself into my mind. Like smoke. Like magic.

My shoulders went tight even as I forced myself back to open to him. The pain of entry a forgotten memory already. All that remained now was the persistent fullness and sweet pressure and the tiny flickers and echoes of approaching orgasm in my cunt.

"And what if I do this?"

His fingers, thick and hard—working man's finger I always thought wildly when I saw them—shoved into my pussy. I arched my hips a bit higher, pressing my upper body flat like I was begging for mercy to some dark god. He filled me there, too, a fat bundle of digits slipping into the wet waiting entrance of my cunt.

I had no answer for Johnny. Only a sound—something primitive and needy—that ripped out of me before I even felt it coming.

"Don't stop those fingers, Snowflake."

And I didn't, giving my tortured clit short fast strokes of my fingertips like a tiny tongue licking at the nub. I shut my eyes tight, my lower body undulating almost of his own accord. Seeking out Johnny—his cock, his fingers, the heat of him.

I moved back to get him deeper. Feel him more. When his fingers curled repeatedly—performing some mystical rhythm it felt like only he knew—I came. A great surge of pressure and then release that had me biting my lip to keep from screaming.

If I had made the noise inside of me, someone would be visiting us. Tapping politely on the door to as if everything was okay. Instead, I swallowed it down and chewed my lip and thrashed like I was dying.

Because it nearly felt like I was. But what a way to go.

"You're so fucking tight, you know that?"

And then he was gone. His body giving me a few more fluid strikes of flesh on flesh. A few more instances where he filled me completely only to withdraw and do it again. And then Johnny went tight against me and emptied and I could tell—because I was paying attention—he stifled his roar too.

He pushed me down under him, letting his weight cover me. He was big and solid and sweaty and his heart was beating at an insane rate against my back. His hands found my hips and held me possessively, fingers clamping tightly to my flesh.

"So, you're not a virgin anymore, Snowflake," he laughed. It was one of those secret laughs. The kind of little inside joke that people share as they grow old together.

I pushed the thought away, feeling my heart crimp up painfully inside the cage of my body.

"I know."

He kissed my back. "You okay with that?"

"I am."

He kissed my neck and it sent a shiver through me. "Hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

"Tired?"

"God, yes."

"Then sleep. I want to go see if the motel man has a beer or something I can bribe him out of."

I smiled but he couldn't see me. "Find me a soda," I said.

"Will do, sweetheart." His fingers stroked my skin as he moved from the bed. There was a reverence in that touch. I don't know how I could feel it, but I sure as shit could. So I closed my eyes to the tears that threatened to prickle there.

"Sleep a little bit, "he said, pulling on his clothes. "We'll be back on the road soon enough. I got a girl who wants to go west." He chuckled almost to himself.

I got a girl…I was nearly out when the door snicked shut.

STAY TUNED...

If I could slap it on my tee and wear it to the store I would...

I did the I Write Like thing this morning with a chunk of Wanderlust. Curiosity killed the jacked-up-on-Zeke's coffee-writer and all that jazz. So here it is:


I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Tada! Pretty fucking awesome. Click the badge to do yours! (heh)

XOXO
Sommer

In Johnny's head...

(This is extra, please see today's installment of Wanderlust below) So a reader commented that she'd love to know what's going on in there. And oddly, my mangled and tortured brain was mulling that over just last night as I fell asleep. And I dozed off with this in my head. It's just a peek, but judging by how Johnny Rose is turning out...it's pretty damn accurate:

I watch her there. And God, is she fucking gorgeous.

Brittle, too. Because Really has been trying to hold up the world.

I know that feeling. I've been there. But holding up the world breaks your spine. One centimeter at a time. It compresses you.

It's a losing battle--trying to hold up the world. I want her to know that. The weight of world always wins.

The lesson is in the letting go...

Wanderlust part 33 *the foreman of fucking*

It's Saturday! Also the first official day of spring break for me and the kidlets. So posting will be a bit later the next ten days. Because I, friends and neighbors, get to...say it with me: SLEEP!

woohooo!

It's also pouring like the dickens here so I doubt I will get anything productive done. Just a lazy day and a whole lot of nothing. Which suits me just fine.

Enough blabbering. Here we go. Wanderlust part 33...

Wanderlust
part 33
by Sommer Marsden


"That's going to make me come," I said staring into Johnny's face. It was like Joe was some necessary evil to mine and Johnny's connection.

"That's okay," he said and his fingers plucked and swirled and played me perfectly.

"Oh Christ," I sighed as I started to come.

He looked over my shoulder. "Do not come," he said to Joe.

Poor Joe, I thought stupidly as the molten liquid orgasm curled around my pelvis, making my knees weaker and my shoulders shake as I tried to continue to support myself on hands and knees.

And Johnny watched ever flicker and tremble intently. Those blue-blue eyes locked on my face as I came. I bit my lip, tried not to cry out but lost the battle as I damn near sobbed because Joe was not letting up on me. He continued to thrust deep and hard, sandwiching me in his big (soldier) hands as he rutted. One on my lower back, pressing me down, one on my hip, yanking me in.

"Good?" Johnny asked, dropping a kiss on my lips.

I tried to breathe. Fuck, I tried to think. All I could do was nod. And nod I did. Like a perverse puppet on a bobbing string. I nodded until I was damn near dizzy with it and then I nodded some more.

Johnny stood and watched. Simply stood there. About a foot from me, legs locked, arms crossed. He looked very much like a boss. The foreman of the operation.

The foreman of fucking…

I laughed softly and curled my fingers into the ugly beige comforter because I could feel it happening again. Another orgasm swiftly approaching as I watched Johnny watch this man take me. This stranger. His eyes were tallying each stroke, ticking off each thrust.

I let my hair hang down to shield my eyes so maybe I could stave off my orgasm. But then he said, "Put your head up, Really."

So I did. Tossing my head back and arching my back like some prize mare up for inspection.

"Fuck," Joe growled and I heard the pant and struggle in his voice.

I tightened my cunt, gripping him, fucking with him. I wanted Joe to feel as out of control as I did.

My motions only served to slide me one inch closer to my own release. I was going to come soon and there was really nothing I could do about it.

I wanted Jonny then. The need for him slammed down on me like a great white wave of desperation. It pushed me under, tossed me around and when I stared up at him, the craving to have him was like an itch under my skin.

I reached for his belt buckle, licked my lips. Showing him with my motions what it was I wanted from him. I wanted him to be a part of this with me. I wanted him to enter me, too. If he'd just let me suck him, then the urge would abait.

"Let me," I said.

He surprised me by taking a step back. He was suddenly and painfully out of my reach and the panic that welled up in me was staggering.

He read it on my face. "I'm right here," he reminded me. "It's okay."

And that was that. It's okay. It echoed around in my head and my chest hitched up tight before shuddering with the surrender to both a sob and an orgasm.

"You come, too," Johnny said softly and poor Joe, the odd man out—the mere background bit player in this little saga—came with a roar that filled the small cheap room and bounced off the flimsy plywood walls.

He came and his hand, I realized, was still pressed to the small of my back as he bucked hard, once, twice, three times and then went still.

Finally, when he pulled free of me and stood, Johnny pulled out a fold of bills and handed them over. "Go get your own room, man," he said.

There was no room for argument in his voice.

I sank down on the bed, pulling my knees up to my chest and crossing my ankles. It was good to be sitting on my ass, though I was shaking. My back had started to ache from the intensity of kneeling for so long. I was trembling almost violently from the adrenaline. Set into motion by the emotion and the coming and the whole bizarre scenario.

I saw Joe open his mouth and then close it again, not a word spoken.

Wise man.

He pulled the door shut when he left.

I stared up at Johnny. Was he angry? Had I done it wrong? Sickening uncertainly filled my gut when he turned from me. But he simply reached into one of the blue plastic sacks and grabbed something. Then he dropped back to his knees to face me and I found air to fill my lungs again.

"You did good."

I said nothing.

He kissed me and I opened my mouth for him. When he finally broke the kiss, he opened the small box and pulled out a bottle of lube.

"Turn over for me, Snowflake."

I turned over.

On my belly, I could not see him and that killed me. I wanted to see him. Especially now. He rested his warm lips on my lower back. It occurred to me that it was the same spot that poor Joe (as I had come to call him in my head) had kept his hand the whole time he'd fucked me.

I moaned softly as Johnny's fingers skated over my ass. He smoothed his hands over each swell of each buttock until each breath I drew was a struggle. Then I heard the rude sound of lube exiting a bottle and felt the cool kiss of his coated finger at my back hole.

He nudged me open and I felt the tip of his finger dip into me. He pushed a bit harder and he was in me to the first knuckle. I tried to breathe normally. I had never done this. Not with my past boyfriends, not with my token husband, not with my countless lovers. Never. Never ever and that knowledge was like an extra beat of excitement in my chest, my belly, my cunt.

"You're very tight with nerves,' he said, chuckling. "Am I your first, Snowflake?"

I nodded. It was all I could do.

There had been fingers and once a toy but never a man. Never a cock. No one had ever fucked me up the ass and I realized with a start that it never occurred me to wonder if I'd let him. I simply had accepted that I would let him.

"Say it for me then. Make me happy."

"You're my first, Johnny."

With that, he slid a second finger into me and my pelvis filled with an entirely new kind of heat and pressure and that kiss of pain pushed the pleasure I was still feeling into a whole new category.

He moved slow, and for that I was grateful. I watched my fingers pluck at the pale comforter, the scratchy white sheets underneath—200 thread count, no doubt. These are the things that raced through my mind to try and push back my fear.

"It's okay. I feel you getting all taut again. It's okay," he said.

And again. Him telling me it was okay. Him reassuring me. Making me feel safe and secure and handled. Who knew I was such a fucking slut for being comforted?

I blew out the breath I had been holding in and felt my body slow down, go slack for him.

"There's my girl." He added yet another finger and I had to consciously make myself not clench up. I steadied my breath, watched my fingers scrunch the sheets.

"I'm scared." I admitted it and that shocked me. Truth was, the words slipped past my lips before I could catch them.

"I know. And tell the truth—shame the devil—isn't that part of the thrill of it? Isn't that part of how good it is?"

I said nothing. I bit my tongue. His hand disappeared—fingers pulling free of me—and I heard the sinister metallic rip of his zipper coming down. The clank of a belt buckle and the rustle of denim. I heard his clothing hitting the other bed but did not turn my head to watch. My heartbeat thudded in my ears and my nipples were so tight the friction from the bed under me was nearly unbearable.

The mattress dipped with the weight of him. He spread himself out over me, covering me but not letting his full weight push me down. His cock rode the crack of my ass, hard and insistent. I knew its potential for pleasure and now…a bit of pain. I was going to let him do this. I wanted him to do this.

"Isn't it?" he asked again.

All of me was alight with anxiety and the rush of anticipation. It was sweet and dark and ripe for the picking. It had been a long time coming, all of this. It was all new and terrifying and so, so good.

So fucking good.

I answered him softly. "Yes."

STAY TUNED...

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Cheater Pants: Wanderlust part 31 "Get in the back, Snowflake" & part 32 "What do you want to do to her?"

So, I totally cheated yesterday and rushed ahead, writing three segments. I'm giving you two today instead of one. Why only two instead of all three? Well, I'm cruel that way (heh) and the other is my ace in the hole (heh, again) in case I don't get writing done today or tomorrow morning. Tomorrow's Saturday after all, this way I have a weekend post on deck.

TGIF, everyone! Make sure you go all the way down to the video clip. Talk about a flashback. Man, all things 80s are new again. Or so it seems. I feel damn near current!

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. both photos are moi :)



Wanderlust
part 31
by Sommer Marsden

Leggings, more leggings, jeans, sweater. Some sweats, flats, new boots and three pairs of pajamas. Shampoo, deodorant, fingernail polish (why not?), moisturizer, girl stuff. I pushed my cart to the front of the store and had my pick of three very bored looking cashiers.

"You traveling?" she asked me as she zipped my items over the electronic eye.

"Yep."

Delores—according to her name tag—had hair that was black as sin but for the three inches closest to her scalp. That was as white as snow.

"Little late for it," she said. "Or early. Depending on how you look at it."

She yawned and I fought the urge to echo her. "I guess. But we have the road to ourselves."

"Suppose so."

My grand total was just shy of two hundred dollars. I realized I was carrying my life's possessions at the moment in plastic bags. She caught the look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing to put it all in," I said. I shrugged. Trying not to let it bother me, but it was one of those little details that niggled at me.

"How about a few of our nifty reusable sacks? They come in fashion colors and everything," she said and then unable to take herself seriously, she snorted with wry laughter.

"I'll take three." I grinned. I was starting to appreciate Delores's humor.

She gave me one pink, one lime green and one that I thought of as emergency orange. We repacked my stuff into the cloth mesh bags and I paid her for my new luggage. "There you go. Now you're stylin'"

It was my time to snort. "I am. I am styling." I waved and headed toward the front where I had no doubts a very bored Johnny would be waiting on the courtesy bench supplied specifically for men waiting on their women.

He was right where I expected him to be. With the guy from out front. The one who thought I was sexy, according to Johnny.

"Really, meet Joe. Joe's gonna ride with us just until we hit Ohio."

I swallowed hard. Not because we had a passenger. I swallowed hard because of the look in Johnny's eyes. It was a look that set my nerves on edge. I flexed my hands around the handles of the tote bags and cleared my throat. "Hi," I managed.

His eyes skittered up and down me. He wasn't a creepy guy. He was actually a decent looking guy. But by the way he eyed me up, I wondered what Johnny had said to him. What Joe was expecting from this leg of the road trip.

"Hi," he said. Both men stood and ushered me out. Flanking me, actually.

We walked to the car in silence and I could feel the strong vibes rumbling off of Johnny. He had three plastic bags and a big bottle of water. At the car, he handed me a chocolate bar. "Get in the back, Snowflake," he said. And then he leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth.

It was a sweet, soft kiss and his tongue touched mine, sending a spark through me like a stab of lightning in a stormy sky. I got in the back.

I couldn't tell if I was scared or excited. I think it was both.

*****

I feigned sleep as we flew down the highway, Ohio bound. I pretended to let slumber take me and I knew damn well that Johnny wasn't buying it. Even after a short time, he knew me well enough to know that anxiety and anticipation would never let me sleep. Not with a stranger in the car.

They didn't speak and that unnerved me even more. I wondered how long they had sat up there on that bench waiting for me. I wondered what they had discussed while they waited. I wondered exactly what I was supposed to do with or for Joe? Then I started to wonder if I was blowing this out of proportion. Maybe we were just giving him a ride to Ohio. Maybe the rest was all in my head.

I cracked one eye and found Johnny watching me in the rearview mirror. He smiled at me and my pussy flickered even as my stomach rolled with cold trepidation.

No. I was not imagining anything.

At some point, I actually did doze. I dreamed of Bill Withers singing on an old transistor radio and my mother dancing in our big white kitchen. She wore a yellow skirt and a pale blouse and she twirled like a whirling dervish.

When the car staggered to a stop, I sat up. Yanked from sleep and somewhat confused to find myself in the back seat, I rubbed my eyes, blinking.

Joe went into the office of a motel. He had money in his hand and for some reason I would have laid odds that Johnny had supplied that money. I didn't say anything, I watched through the foggy plate glass windows as Joe paid the clerk and took the oversized key fob.

"Two thirteen," he said when he got back in the car. He turned and smiled at me. There was lust in that smile.

We drove around to the green door with gold numbers. Two thirteen. Thirteen. Lucky thirteen. I shivered and caught Johnny looking at me in the mirror again. He put the car in park and nodded to Joe. "Go on in. We're coming."

Joe looked unsure but then nodded and off he went. He reminded me of a dog. A big one. Maybe a Labrador or a mutt that you'd rescue that was part Sheppard, part terrier, part everything. Or a Golden Retriever, I thought, my brain gnawing at the whole damn scenario like a rat in a cage.

"Really?"

I blinked at him, startled for a second. "Yeah?"

"What do you want?"

"What?"

"What do you want? Right now. Do you want to go home? Do you want to be with me? What do you want?"

I didn't have to think. "I want to be with you."

He nodded, looking satisfied. "Do you want to please me?"

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. I did want to please him but for a person like me, admitting that was akin to setting myself on fire. I nodded instead.

"No cheating, Snowflake." He reached into the back seat—where I sat very still, feeling very much like a naughty child being punished—and held my chin. "Say it."

He kept his hand on my face as I whispered, "I want to please you, Johnny."

"That makes my cock hard just hearing it," he said conversationally. And my whole body warmed for him.

"Do you know what I want?" he went on.

I shook my head.

"What would make me happy?" he continued.

"No," I said. But I was a liar. I did know. Or I suspected.

"I want to see you with him. I want you to do that for me. Will you do that for me, Really?"

In my mind: You with another man. I bet you'd be spectacular to watch…

He stared at me, waiting for an answer.

Oddly, crazily, unbelievably—again, I did not have to think. "Yes," I whispered to him. "I'll do that for you."

CONTINUED...



Wanderlust
part 32
by Sommer Marsden

"Welcome to Ohio, Really," he said up against my ear. Then Johnny pushed the room door open and Joe was sitting there in a chair waiting.

"Everything okay?"

"It is," Johnny said, dropping the plastic bags on one of the two beds.

I put my pretty colored bags in a row on the dresser, feeling a bit OCD-ish as I did it. My nipples chafed in my bra and my pussy was swollen, slippery, slick with fear and arousal. This was insane. Insane. But I could feel my thudding pulse between my legs as surely as I felt it in my chest and neck and temples.

I wanted this. Because Johnny wanted this.

"Really, why don't you take off your clothes for us?" Johnny said. He dropped his jacket on the other queen sized bed and sat down. Waiting.

I didn't want to. At that moment I was frozen. But somehow I forced my shaking fingers to deal with my clothing as I peeled them off. Joe watched me, his face intent but appreciative and that was a relief. Johnny had picked a guy who was pretty good looking and not creepy and probably didn't have an axe in his coat or a necklace made of teeth in his jacket.

I laughed at my own internal ramblings and Johnny cocked a reassuring smile at me. "It's okay, Really," he said, reading my mind. Which was scary and heartening all at once. "I won't' let a damn thing happen to you."

I took a final breath and pushed my panties down, standing there naked and feeling almost transparent. I was sure that the two men in the room could look at me and see right down to the blood in my beating heart and the fear in my soul.

And the swollen wetness in my cunt. Let's not forget that, shall we?

"What do you want her to do?" Johnny asked Joe.

"I want her to touch herself." He swallowed spasmodically and even from this distance—with the locked front door to my back—I could see he was hard.

My mind jumped ridiculously to the Divynls. I love myself. I want you to love me…

But I did it. I spread my slippery folds with my fingertips, hoping the cheap and dim motel lighting would pick up my wetness for him to see. How had I become so fucking wet? So drenched I could feel the moisture even on the tops of my thighs. I touched my finger to my clit where all the blood in my body seemed to have accumulated. That one sweeping touch, that little bit of contact, was enough to send my heart racing and my body shivering.

"There you go," Johnny said. To me? To Joe? I had no idea.

Joe nodded. Licked his lips. Settled back a little in the chair. He grazed the edge of his hand along the hump of his erection and his eyelids flickered just a bit.

Johnny leaned in, his face looking thinner and more predatory in the strange orange-red light. "Now what? What do you want to do to her?"

Joe blinked like a man coming out of a fog. I rubbed my clit once more but stilled my hand until instructed otherwise. Not because I felt insecure, no, it was so I wouldn't come. I was so amped up that a fine dotting of sweat had prickled along my upper lip. I was feverish with a need to see how this all played out.

The only thing I did know for sure was that Johnny Rose was in control.

"I want to fuck her up the ass," Joe said baldly.

Johnny laughed like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He clapped a big palm to his jean-clad leg and shook his head. "Leave it to you, man, to pick one of the handful of things I won't let you do."

Joe looked disappointed but only for a second. Then he smiled and appeared to blush. "Then I guess I'd just like to fuck her. From behind. Doggie style, Sir," he said.

Military, my mind said. Joe was military. The way the sir rolled off his tongue was as natural as any human drawing air. And it made me that much wetter to hear this big strong guy with his short clipped hair and his cigarettes tucked in his jean jacket pocket call my Johnny Sir. And yes, somewhere along the way, Johnny had become—if only in my head—my Johnny.

"Good deal," Johnny said and his eyes settled on me. Me, standing there by the door—nipples hard, body studded with gooseflesh, cunt so unbearably wet and empty. He pointed and said, "Don't leave the man hanging, Really."

He smiled and I moved on nearly numb feet.

Johnny Rose handed Joe a condom and said matter-of-factly. "Put it on."

He was a flurry of jerky movements and I realized that Joe was as nervous as I was. And as turned on, too. That much was evident when his cock sprang free and he rolled the rubber on with mildly shaking hands. I kneeled on the bed and he reached for me, moving to kiss me.

"That's another thing you can't do," Johnny said.

Joe stopped and stared at me. I could see it in his eyes that he was wondering should he do this, did I want this, did he want this. It all flickered across his face like a movie on fast forward.

I turned and presented myself to him—legs slightly spread, ass high, pussy exposed. Yes, I wanted this, I realized. Because as I looked at Johnny I could see his want of this and that increased my desire to please him tenfold.

Joe pushed his fingers into me. I felt he first faint tickling of fingertips at my glazed entrance, and then on a single heartbeat, he pushed his fingers deep and we both made sounds that were half sigh, half groan.

"Go on, then," Johnny said, nodding. He looked over my shoulder at our visitor but then he looked right at me. His gaze never wavering as Joe pushed the head of his sheathed cock to my pussy and slipped into me.

I let my eyes drift shut and heard, "Look at me, Snowflake."

I opened my eyes and did as told.

He studied me as Joe started to move. His hips bucking with a quick but not hurried tempo. He had a nice cock—big and long and thick—the whole package, so to speak. He filled me perfectly and had I been on the market, looking for a lover, I'd have called Joe again, no doubt. I sighed when his fingers bit into the flesh at my hips to hold me steady

Then one hand settled on the small of my back as if to keep me from floating away. A moment later I was glad it was there to ground me because Johnny pushed a finger to my bottom lip and then he slid it into my mouth. I sucked his finger without thinking, drawing on it the way I would his cock if he would just break down and put that in my mouth.

He thrust his finger in and out, in and out, as Joe continued to pound into me, fucking me so that I slipped in tiny almost unnoticeable increments across the ugly generic bedspread.

My cunt coiled tight, my belly hot, my chest flushed with heat that I could feel. I knew, were I to look in a mirror, I would see the red stain of arousal tattooed on my chest above my breasts. I always flushed when I was unbearably turned on.

Johnny dropped to his knees and as Joe fucked me, his lips touched mine for just an instant. So fast and so light I thought I might have imagined it. Then he reached under me to find my clit, soaked with my own rush of juices and he started to rub in time with Joe's thrusts.

STAY TUNED...

Wanderlust part 30 "part predator, part savior"

Hey, all. Wow, what a busy day yesterday! Thanks for all of your congrats on Coming Together: With Sommer and Schooling. I had a lot of new blog visitors *waves* and I hope you'll come back and join us for the continuation of Wanderlust. Speaking of: and away we go...

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. photo credit is me and at the end I've added a video for you of one of my favorites ever. EVAH! xo

Wanderlust
part 30
by Sommer Marsden

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone…

I realized I was singing along with Bill Withers when I caught Johnny looking at me.

"What?" I snorted.

"Nothing."

"My father used to sing this song to my mother," I recalled. Then the anger kicked me in the gut and I grunted, turning to face the neon spotted darkness as it flew by.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

His hand came down on my leg and he squeezed. It was like being convinced by the world's sexiest mob enforcer. I couldn't quite contain my laughter.

"Come on now, you want to tell me. I showed you mine, now you show me yours." Johnny shook my leg, his grip firm but gentle.

"My what?"

"Your guts. Your soul. Your blood. All the sticky wet insides of Aurelia Blake," he said, focusing once again on the road. A single car flew past us and I watched its tail lights wink at me, demonic eyes in the misty black.

"Nice analogy."

He said nothing, just gave me a half nod.

"Daddy dearest used to sing that to her. He wooed her some. He hurt her lots. Once in a while he beat up on her," I snapped.

I had it coming, Aurelia... swam up from my recent dream. I shook in the bomber jacket even though I hadn't been cold just a moment before.

"So…" He waited.

"So, I feel this way about my mother. This song makes me think about her and how I felt about her. I feel like there's no sunshine now that she's gone." There I had said it. and a huge part of me resented the shit out of him for making me do so.

"What happened?"

"Lung cancer." I shrugged and looked away. What I wanted speed from this runaway journey was dark roads, ugly ass motels with lumpy beds and meals taken at greasy spoons. I did not want to share my feelings or engage in cut-rate therapy with Johnny Rose. And yet at every turn, we seemed to be unzipping ourselves to show off our inside and revel in our pain and rusty workings.

"Sor—"

"Don't say it," I reminded him.

"Right. You're right. I forgot."

"It's okay."

"So he…beat her?"

"Oh, not a lot," I said, nonchalantly. The bitterness in my voice could have eaten paint of his car. Had there been any to begin with. "Just when he was stressed. But—"

"But?"

"But she loved him and he hardly ever did it. That's what she said. He hardly ever did it. So she'd smoke another cigarette and pretend it was okay and call it a fucking day. My father had a lot of stress, my mother had a lot of cigarettes."

"Christ."

"That, too," I laughed. "Virginia Blake was a regular church goer."

He shook his head and sipped from a bottle of water. I could tell he wanted a cigarette but the mention of lung cancer had stayed his hand. Probably more on my behalf than his own

"He broke her arm once," I blurted.

He frowned.

"And yet, I've spent so much time chasing my father's love. But hating him. Go figure that out." Now I wanted a damn cigarette.

"Human nature," he said.

"Humans are fucking stupid," I said.

"True story."

"Enough," I said. "Next subject."

"No problem, Snowflake."

It did not escape my attention that he was more willing to let me slide than I had been to let him off the hook. I was a bitch sometimes, you know? Or maybe I just thought I could fix everyone since I couldn't fix me.

Streetlights stained the inside of the car with blue dots and bleach splotch streaks. It was surreal being on the highway at two-something in the morning.

"I haven't been driving around this late since college. And I was drunk as a skunk"

"Now you just smell like sex and woodsmoke and cold air."

We had left the cabin sealed with a note from Johnny propped on the counter. I found it both totally normal and entirely odd that I had never asked a single question about his friend or the cabin.

He turned off the highway with a flick of his wrist and the obedient Chevy followed the winding exit with ease.

"Where are we going?" We'd only been on the road about ninety minutes, but since he did a good seventy mile an hour clip, we'd gone a decent distance. "Pit stop, already?"

"Yes and no."

We pulled into a mega saving store. The blue sign and the streetlamps fashioned to look old-timey threw the huge parking lot into stark relief. Bugs bounced and dotted the undersides of the tall lights despite the temperature.

"Got a hankering for beef jerky?" I asked him. Something in my stomach rolled and sizzled with nervous energy.

"You need clothes. Now's a good a time as any. You'll probably have the whole damn store to yourself," he said.

We were kissing Pennsylvania goodbye very soon. The thought of pulling into Ohio, taking a hot-hot shower and then putting on honest to god new clothes was so tempting my mouth watered a bit.

"Okay. Good. And what will you do?"

"Grab some food and hang out and wait. You're not one of those girly-girls who needs to try in seventy-five outfits to buy two are ya?"

He turned the Chevy off and faced me.

"Nope. Not me. No giry-girls here."

"Good girl," he said and calmly smoothed my still bed-headed hair.

The words alone sent a tingle through my body and set off a deep and eager flexing in my cunt. I was like some well trained pet who glowed from his praise and attention. I'd have been annoyed with myself had I not been so turned on and anxious.

"Let's go," I managed. If I didn't get a move on, I'd be assaulting him in the front seat.

"Lead the way."

We passed a lone guy in a jean jacket with a backpack. He was smoking a cigarette at the entrance and watching the bugs bang against each other in the halos of light. He nodded as we passed and smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Our friend thinks you're sexy," Johnny said as we pushed into the store.

Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes as an exhausted looking woman in a blue smock, tan slacks and tennis shoes welcomed me with the same excitement you'd find at a funeral home.

I gave her a finger wave and leaned into Johnny. "It's going on three o'clock in the morning. Chances are he's drunk or high or near sighted."

"Are you drunk or high or near sighted?" he asked, snagging a hand basket.

"No. Well, I'm not drunk or high, the near sighted might be beginning to pose a problem. Not sure."

Unexpectedly, he leaned in and kissed me right on the forehead.

"I like you, Really," he said. And that right there was even more unexpected.

My throat worked at what felt like affection but also felt like a rock lodged in my windpipe. "I—"

I'm the farthest thing from a good man that you will find, Aurelia Blake…

"You go get some clothes. I'll wait up front when I'm finished so you can find me."

"I—"

I wanted to tell him I liked him, too. I wanted to tell him he made me feel a lot of things I never had and some I'd given up on. Like safe. He made me feel safe and I had not felt safe—down in the small part of me where the true Really lived—since my mother died. I wanted to say a lot and yet it seemed I could say nothing at all.

"Go on," he said, swatting my ass with his big hard palm.

I gave a little yelp and a little jump and he kissed me right between the eyes this time.

"I'll be here when you're done," he said.

And I knew he would. That alone made me want to throw my arms around him and find a way to say all the shit that was bottled up in me. Instead I said, "If you see chocolate, I'd kill for chocolate."

Johnny nodded and off he went. A hulking, broad shouldered man with a shorn head. An every day working man in a flannel shirt and jeans, work boots smacking the freshly waxed linoleum floors that threw the bright store lights around like fireworks. A big man who always looked like part predator, part savior.

STAY TUNED...

Just when I think it's safe to stop vibrating...

My other book comes out! Two books in one day and some super nice comments on the posting for WANDERLUST today. Who knew ya'll would find that so hot?

Anyway, my new book Schooling is out from EC and it's pretty hot itself. Who knew falling in love again could be so damn sexy? Yay!

XOXO
Sommer

Coming Together: With Sommer

Went live today :) Book benefits LLS. The foreword was written by the amazing William Patrick Tandy, editor extraordinaire (of Smile, Hon fame) and the whole book was made possible by the unstoppable Alessia Brio.

If you go to the book's ARe page, you can read the author's note and see just what this book means to me. Now that's steamy sexy paranormal for a good cause! :)

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 29 "Is there a better time, Snowflake?"

Good morning, good morning, all. Welp, we've hit over 38K as of last night. I sat and wrote another installment before bed. So, we're totally trucking along in this book (pun totally intended).

I have coffee and later today I'll have good news to post. For now--enjoy!

And welcome to new readers. Thanks for your comments and contact! Glad to have you. :)

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 29
by Sommer Marsden

I didn't think we'd be going anywhere. The day had skated away in a chaotic rush of emotions and confessions. I didn't think we'd hit the road at all until the following day. But I woke to whispery secretive sounds just past midnight according to the alarm clock.

Normally a night owl, I rarely fell asleep so early. I also rarely set off human powder kegs or incited two-person riots, either.

There was that sound again. My mind knew the sound but couldn't pluck it out of the ether and name it. I was tired and a bit chilly and a little scared still from earlier. Wind licked around the eaves, sounding lonely and forlorn. Somewhere down below I heard the ticks and pops of wood planks settling as they cooled after being warm all day. The cabin was hunkering down for the night.

Finally, I opened one eye and from the meager glow. Johnny had left a small lamp burning down below—to keep the likes of me from falling down the steps, no doubt. I saw him watching me. Cock in hand, face serene if not serious, jerking off.

I blinked, startled and aroused all in one heartbeat. "Can I help you with something?" I tried to make a joke out of it. But it didn't feel like a joke. The air was charged with an surreal energy.

There was no hurry in his motion. It was a lazy kind of masturbation, like it has just occurred to him and he'd decided on a whim to give in. I grinned and reached for him.

He surprised me further by pushing my hand away. A small splinter of hurt wedged itself under my skin. "Johnny—"

"I said no," he reminded me. He looked down at himself, running his thumb over the tip of his cock. My favorite part of it—the smooth cap of flesh with the small indentation. That diminutive slit in the helmet that I liked to press the tip of my tongue to.

To see him there—handling himself—getting off—made my stomach cramp with nervous lust. "Why?" I breathed. Wanting him even more. Needing him even more.

What a mind fuck. And that, I realized, was the point.

"Because," he said. His hand moved up and then down. Up and down. Slow and sultry. His skin rasping along his shaft.

I watched him, mesmerized several times over. By the no, by the sound, by the sight. "Please?"

"No." He did give me a half grin and it plunged through me with ease.

I was so fucking wet. I wanted him so bad always. I wanted him more when I saw him touching himself. I wanted him insanely because he was telling me no. My body let loose a rush of fluid and my pussy clamped greedily around nothing but the idea of having him in me.

"I don't know why. Why no?" I whispered.

"I want to watch you."

"You can watch me and then fuck me."

"You can watch me and I can watch you. And then soon enough I'll fuck you."

"Soon enough?"

"Soon enough." He held his cock tight, slid his hand down slowly, grasped himself at the root and watched me.

His eyes were my impetus. I threw the covers back and pushed my tee high. Shimmying my hips, I pulled my panties down, holding my breath—praying that seeing me do this would cause him to say fuck it and just enter me, already.

Mount me.

Why did that word turn me on? Mount me. Fuck me. Take me. All of this swirled and danced in my tired still-awakening brain as I yanked my panties down.

Johnny kicked them to the floor and handled his balls, rubbing that thumb over the tip of his cock again.

I remembered the silken feel of him. The impossibly soft skin that sheathed that impossibly hard erection. And he wouldn't let me have it.

I sighed and wriggled. I tried to tempt him. He said, gruffly, "Spread yourself open, Snowflake. Let me see how pretty you are."

That brought heat to my face and my pussy. I was flushed red and rosy from head to toe and again, I coddled my irrational anger over the fact that he wouldn't bend his rule and take me. It had been hours. Hours seemed too long to not be with Johnny Rose.

I spread myself for him and he watched me, his motions just a bit more urgent. I spread my pussy wide and started to rub. I arched my hips, hoping the golden buttery glow of light that stained the darkness would play across the moisture between my legs. Hoped it would accent my ache for him and my readiness to receive.

If he could see how fucking wet I was for him, maybe he would fuck me. I curled my toes against his bicep and I rubbed my clit. We faced each other. Him propped on an elbow at the foot of the bed, his feet facing me. Me with my hair spread out on the pile of pillows, touching my toe to his warm skin.

"I'm not going to change my mind, Really," he said. And then he smiled.

I believed him. But a girl had to try.

"Put your fingers in your cunt," he said. His voice was a whispered prayer in the silence.

I pushed one finger in slowly, watching him as he studied me. His fist squeezed the length of his cock and his hips moved a bit. His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed dark and indecipherable in the gloom.

"Now another."

I added another and moved my hips up a touch more. My fingers slipped slick circles around my clitoris, my thumb keeping the hood pulled back so that the force of my ministrations filled my pelvis with heat. I thrust my fingers, letting him heard the wet sliding sound as I fucked myself for his approval and amusement.

"Good girl," he said.

That first flicker and blush of orgasm sidled up to me and I made a soft noise.

He heard it and chuckled. I curled my toes against him harder and he said "Now curl those fingers of yours. Deep inside. Curl against that spot that makes you shake when you come," he said.

I did it. I curled my fingers, brushing that tender bundle of nerves and it all crashed down around me. The sight of him stroking his cock, the sound of us masturbating that filled the loft, the words good girl and the orders and the way he licked his lips when I started to come.

It all washed over me and I stretched my legs long as I came, my body flickering inside and out from the force of my release.

"Watch me," he managed. His voice had gone broken glass and barbed wire gruff.

I focused my eyes even as little flickers continued to spasm through me. I watched him as my body undulated with the remnants of need and a craving for more. Johnny pumped one-two-three times hard and fast and he came. A thick white jet of come arching out of him, hitting my skin like liquid fire. I watched and felt another smaller orgasm rush through me because my fingers were still buried deep inside my pussy.

"Come clean me up," he said.

I felt one instant of shock and then I willingly crawled to the end of the bed and licked his hand. I sucked each finger like it was my last chance to touch him, licking the salty astringent taste off the back of his hand. When I was done—when he was clean—he caught my hair up in his hand and reeled me in. He gathered me to him and kissed me. His big hands captured my face and he kissed me harder, tasting himself on my lips, on my tongue.

"Now get dressed."

"What?"

"Get dressed." He brushed his lips over my forehead as he pushed the hair out of my face.

"Why?"

"We're leaving. Ohio, here we come."

"Now?"

"Is there a better time, Snowflake?"

"I guess not."

STAY TUNED...