walkin' dusty roads part 2  

sparkee58 59M
606 posts
6/20/2006 3:37 am

Last Read:
8/23/2006 8:23 am

walkin' dusty roads part 2

One month later Dusty moved into the Honey's housebarn in the woods. Everyday after work he would stop by and shower, drink a few beers and watch the news while Honey cooked dinner or sat beside him. A lifetime bachelor, he was a pretty good cook himself and one night he had surprised her with his culinary skills. Honey discovered she was happy with him there and that the opposite was also true. She thought about it long and hard, consulting both her logical mind and her galloping heart. In the end they both won out. He was here every night anyway. They settled in to domesticity and they both seemed happy.
One Saturday afternoon Dusty was out back at the wood pile splitting oak for the fireplace. It was going to be a chilly night and he wanted to use some of the chips to smoke the fresh king mackeral steaks Spike had given them. He had taken his shirt off and a sheen of sweat covered his big chest as he lifted the heavy maul overhead and let it fall from it's own weight into the upright log. He was piling the wood into a red metal wheelbarrow when he heard a scream come from inside. He ran to the house.
Honey stood up by the couch. A section of the local paper was crushed in her hand and she kept hitting herself on the leg with it. Tears rolled down her face and Dusty could see they were tears of rage and frustration. She stood there before him, tall and long legged in her bluejeans, her black hair hanging like a dark waterfall.
"What? What's wrong? Did I do something?"
Then she dropped the paper to the floor and her strong arms were around him and Dusty felt the hot tears as they cooled on his bare shoulder. Honey trembled with a barely suppressed rage.
"Baby, it's not you. It's not you."
Dusty held her at arm's length and they looked at each other. This too, he thought, will connect us, will bring us closer together. Whatever it is. He was silent, knowing it would come or it wouldn't. Honey pulled him to her again as if seeking his strength, his fortitude, his passion, his love.
They stood this way for a few minutes and Honey soon calmed and he led her to the swing outside and sat her down and then he brought the bottle of tequila and a shotglass from the kitchen. He poured her a shot and she drank it down and held out the empty glass for another. He poured. She drank, calmed and waved away another. He set the bottle on a table and sat beside her.
They silently rocked for awhile in the gathering twilight. The wind had died. It was quiet; the birds were anest except for the hooting of owls and a lone woodpecker that machine-gunned a faraway tree. Roxie, the manx, lay lanquidly on a chair.
Finally, as darkness closed in around them, Honey talked.
"Do you remember Clare? Clarissa? You met her at the Piggly Wiggly the other night. She had on that thick makeup you commented on."
Dusty nodded. He vaquely remembered a cute, blond woman about the same age as Honey as they shopped for dinner. She had told him they were best friends.
"Well, she wears all that junk on her face to cover up the scars from where her boyfriend slashed her face with a box cutter."
Here Honey paused and took a deep breath. A tear peeked out from the corner of her eye, but by force of will, she stopped it.
"Well, the sonofabitchin' devil got out of prison yesterday."
She sat upright on the swing.
"I have to call her."
They walked inside and while Honey called Clarissa he picked up the crushed paper and searched for the story.

Dusty knew Honey needed to get away so they drove to Carolina Beach the next weekend and rented a room. Spike kept his boat, a twenty foot Grady- White with an inboard engine and a small cuddy cabin, at Snow's Cut marina. Dusty jingled the key in his pocket as they walked down the wooden pier toward it. Honey wore blue jean shorts that showed off her dark skin and long legs. A long white tshirt covered her bikini top and her raven hair was tied up. A few loose strands blew in the wind like a playful kitten's paw as she carried the big bag with a blanket and pillows. Dusty carried a big cooler.
He wore bluejean shorts that he had made by cutting off the legs with his razor sharp Buck knife. Loose white threads unraveled and clung to the dark hairs of his white legs. They climbed aboard, Dusty unlocked the cabin door and they stowed the gear.
The marina was bustling with activity. In the next slip a woman in a thong bikini lay on the foredeck of a big sloop. She lay on her stomach and her bra was unclasped. She was darker than Honey, with no tan lines that could be seen. Honey looked at Dusty.
"You can get that smile off your face," she said.
Dusty started the blowers and let them run to clear any gasoline fumes from the bilges. Then he ran the pumps and it sounded and a line of water shot out from the rear quarter. He started the engine and let it run. Honey sat on one of the high white swivel seats in the shade from the Bimini top. While it idled Dusty untied the spring lines. It was slack tide, with no current. He sat beside Honey at the chrome wheel and maneuvered out of the crowded marina, around the big rocks that made the artificial breakwater that protected the boats, and out into the ICW headed toward the inlet.
"Where we going?" Honey asked.
"Masonboro Island. Spike told me about it. We'll probably have it to ourselves."
Honey smiled. Her eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses but there was look of rapture on her face as she breathed in the atmosphere. She was giddy with excitement, like waking on Christmas morning or christening a fresh snowfall. A boat slowly made it's way heading from the other direction and they passed near the green channel marker. A tall, bearded man was at the helm and he waved as they passed. Honey waved back.
Soon the were at the inlet and turned east. There was a sandy beach on both sides with trucks and campers behind the fishermen that lined the shore. Dim music could be heard. Dusty kept between the markers, red on left and soon they were out away from the shallow water where white waves broke over the sandbars. "Beware white water," Dusty thought, an old nautical saying that was etched in the teakwood of every seaman's mind.
Soon they rounded the half mile marker and Dusty steered due north at a slow 5 knots. The wind was out of the southeast and Honey felt it on her back. Dusty got up from the chair and nodded to her.
"Here. Take the wheel," Dusty said.
Honey got into the other seat and took the wheel in both hands.
"Just run along the island. Keep this distance away," Dusty said as he stood behind her. "It should be 349 on the compass."
He stripped off his shirt and the hot sun burned into him. His muscular white legs tingled with the first bite of sunburn.
"Right there?," she asked, sitting up tall in the seat. The compasss fluctuated between 347 and 351 and as the waves pushed the bow around, she corrected. She soon smiled with confidence.
"You're a natural."
Dusty went below into the small cabin and took out a long, thick rod with an open faced Penn reel. He rigged it with a small metal planer with stainless line holding a big, hooked silver spoon. At the stern he dropped the line overboard and let it unspool from the reel until it was just behind the wake from the boat. Then he clicked the stop on the big reel and pulled back hard on the pole to set the planer. The line went taunt as a harp string. He set the pole into a rodholder and stood solid on the moving deck looking aft at the line. Taking the line in one hand he pulled some off the reel to check the drag. Satisfied, he went below and returned with two beers.
Honey took one and a chard of ice fell on the dark skin of her breast. Dusty leaned down and kissed it off. She put the beer in a holder and ran her fingers through his thick hair.
"You want to fish? Or do you want to drive the boat?" he asked.
"I'll fish," she said and moved out of the seat. Dusty sat back down at the helm. She turned the other seat around so it faced aft and watched the line as it sank into the green ocean water. A line of pelicans flew overhead and soon they were spread out diving into the water. They watched one as it dove under and disappeared.
"Oh my god! Where did he go?" Honey asked excitedly.
Her mouth hung open as she searched the moving, rolling surface. Soon it rose out of the water, a silver, wriggling fish in it's large mouth, and flapped it's wide, grey wings until it was aloft. Once there, gliding on the soft ocean eddies, the currents in the sky, it enjoyed it's fresh meal.
The line went slack.
"Got one on!" Dusty said loudly.
Honey grabbed the rod out of the holder and started reeling it in. As the line got closer to the boat she saw a large fish jump behind and then the line got heavy and it took effort to turn the small crank.
Soon she pulled it over the side where it flopped around on the white deck, a silvery smooth skinned fish with dark spots. Dusty let the boat idle in neutral, and putting his foot firmly on the side of the fish, he removed the steel hook and handed the line with the big planer to Honey. She put the line back overboard and, setting it, put it back in the holder.
"Spanish mackeral," Dusty said.
"Dinner," said Honey. She smiled and nodded her head.
They slowly cruised north, taking turns fishing and steering, catching a couple more and putting them in ice beside the beer. Ahead a line of boats headed into Masonboro inlet. Dusty stopped the boat and they stowed the tackle. He got back at the helm and headed slowly toward the island they had been parallel with and Honey watched as a white sandy beach came into view. All around was thick woods with stunted scrub pines and tall waving sea oats. There was a natural harbour here and soon they were in shallow water.
Honey looked out at the small deserted beach with it's stark beauty and sighed loudly. It totally filled her senses.
Dusty killed the engine and set the anchor. He looked over the side and could see the sand in the clear water. He put the stainless ladder with teak steps over the side and climbed down. The water was to his knees. Honey handed him down the cooler and after he made several trips through the cool water to ferry the supplies, she also climbed down. Soon they both stood on the white sand looking out at the wide expanse of the ocean.
"It's beautiful here," said Honey.
Dusty put his arm around her and pulled her to him. They kissed.
"It is hot, though," he said and stripped off his shorts. Honey watched as he waded out to the deeper water and dove under. He surfaced and wiped the salty water from his eyes and beconned to her. Honey undid her top and it fell to the sand. Then her fingers were on the sides and she pulled the bikini bottoms off and kicked them aside. She walked out to him and she too went underwater, her long black hair floating around her like dark seagrass. They stood in water to their chests and embraced.
"Look," said Dusty.
He bent down and picked up a sand dollar. He gave it to Honey and she clutched it.
"It's perfect," she said.
She smiled and put her arms sround his neck. Dusty felt her hard nipples on his chest as Honey rubbed them against him. Her hand reached down and captured his thick floating penis. It felt familiar as worn slippers, now. She knew it would harden more, would become even longer and thicker until her fingers could not encircle it. Dusty kissed her neck at that special spot that caused her to involuntarily tremble. She squeezed him under the water.
"Let me set up the tent," Dusty said.
Honey looked up at him and nodded.
They waded back, Honey leading and gripping him like a handle. The sand dollar was in her other hand, held gentle as a crumbling relic. Back on the beach, Dusty started unpacking a large canvas bag. He pulled out a sheet and then the tent. Honey spread it out and pulled him down beside her. He dropped the tent stakes.
"Can't you wait?" he said, laughing.
"Why should I?"
Honey lay on her back, her hair underneath, her large breasts flattened mounds with hard brown tips. Dusty lightly traced around the areole with his fingertip and then he leaned over and took it into his mouth, gently sucking. Honey ran her fingers through his thick hair and pulled him tighter. He moved to the other, his hands full as he cupped it and held it before him like a luscious fruit. Soft moans came from her, the throaty, urgent purr of an excited lioness. Her hips moved, lascivious as Salome, and she took his hand and put it between her legs. The ancient dance of lust. David and dark-eyed Bathsheba. The passion and tears of Mary Magdalene.
His fingers tickled at the thin black hairs of her pubis and then he ran a finger in slow circles around the big lips and soon he found the slick entance, warm and moist as her kissing mouth where their tongues swirled with wild abandon. He slid the finger, slimy with her secretions, up to her bumpy clitoris and circled it wetly, light as a hummingbird's breath, until her hips moved side to side and she pressed against him. Then he moved the finger down and slipped it inside her. She gasped and raised her hips.
"I owe you a favor," Dusty whispered at her ear. He licked around the underside and took the lobe between his lips. His finger slowly slid up to her clitoris. He rubbed it, barely touching and then it slithered down along the moist trench back inside her. He continued this, slowly, slowly like a magician conjuring his best trick, as he kissed down to her breasts.
He removed his finger from her and rubbed the juices on a brown nipple, which he licked off. He savored her rich flavor and inhaled her musk. Slipping it back inside he felt the hotness. He slid two fingers in as his lips kissed down her stomach. He paused once at her navel, where he probed with his tongue, foreshadowing, building the anticipation. Finally his cheek lay on her soft black hairs.
Honey lay flat with her knees in the air. She looked at his thick hair as his tongue reached out and she felt it on that sensitive button. A stab of pleasure went through her and she closed her eyes. Oh yes... like that.... lick around and around and around...yes, oh yes....slip it inside like a slithering snake...ohhhhhh, yessssss...ohhhhhh...coming...commmmiiinnnggg...ohhhhhhhhhhhh....what?
"You stopped! Why did you stop?" Honey asked."I'm gonna whack you with a tent stake."
"I'm going to write you a letter," Dusty said. There was a slick sheen on his rugged face.
Honey lay back and his tongue soon was back on her. It slid between the big labia like a river through a fleshy canyon and then inside her where it licked around, stretching the orifice, finding the outer elasticity. Then it went to her clitoris where it licked the letter I.
Honey's mind relaxed as she lay back and enjoyed Dusty's lazy tongue. Time disolved into pleasure. The sun was hot on her breasts. Her nipples tingled. She took them between her fingers and squeezed. Dusty licked at her and she tried to concentrate. L...L...L. O...O...O...V...
"Oh, my God," she thought. Her mind was spinning with the stars, aglitter with bright, twinkling light, on fire with blue-hot heat. Her hand tried to crush the sand dollar to dust and she felt a sharp pain like a wasp's sting.
It all converged at the same time, an avalanche of emotion, a landslide of indescribable pleasure. Her back arched and she pulled at his dark hair like clutching for lfe. She heard the scream of hungry gulls and the muffled crash of close-by waves and the beating of her own heart like a runaway train. A darkness came to her, sudden as thunder and then an unbelievable lightness and a peacefull relaxation of all her muscles.
Dusty continued to lick at her. She tried to push his head away.
"I love you, too," she said.
She clutched the sand dollar tightly, as if it would get away. Only now did she realize it had cut into her palm. There was a small line of blood on the dull white razor's edge.

catseyes23 62F

6/20/2006 4:38 am

You write exceptionally well, Spark. And that is putting it lightly.


sparkee58 replies on 6/20/2006 8:41 am:
you are too gracious
thank you

VATraveler1948 69M

6/21/2006 3:24 pm

I was looking at the Recent Visitors list on my blog a few minutes ago and saw your name there. I decided to return the favor and I motored on over to your blog. I'm certainly glad that I did, your are an excellent writer. I am looking forward to reading more and I've added you to my watch list. Keep it up, it seems that you have MzHuny slobbering all over the place!

sparkee58 replies on 6/22/2006 1:53 am:
thanks for the visit and the compliment.
i lived in Newport News for a while in my teens.


6/22/2006 10:19 am

It's like Christmas morning in the comments too! I love the comments as much as the story But dude needs a serious tan on them legs

just a squirrel trying to get a nut

sparkee58 replies on 6/23/2006 1:51 am:
yea, i know.
i have to keep him in character.
but...he's getting one now.

rm_1SweetBitch 56F
8575 posts
6/22/2006 10:38 am

If you are not a writer you should be...you are gifted...even when you are being a smart ass {=}

No Day Is So Bad It Can't Be Fixed With Great Sex!

1 SweetBitch

sparkee58 replies on 6/23/2006 2:08 am:
me? a smart ass?

you write really well yourself.

rm_sj365 56F
2414 posts
6/22/2006 2:24 pm

so very good!

go you!

sparkee58 replies on 6/23/2006 2:12 am:
because of these comments i have learned discipline, the lack of which was always my downfall with writing
i believe i am improving

VATraveler1948 69M

6/25/2006 7:48 am

Geez you two... get a room

sparkee58 replies on 6/25/2006 9:24 am:
i hear sombody.

HBowt2 60F

6/25/2006 11:41 am

sharp as hell....you write really well...love reading...

sparkee58 replies on 6/26/2006 1:07 am:
i'm glad you like it.
the tale continues...

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