walkin' dusty roads part 6  

sparkee58 59M
606 posts
7/11/2006 2:57 am

Last Read:
8/23/2006 8:25 am

walkin' dusty roads part 6


Honey wanted nothing more than to come home at night and know that Dusty was there. They always drove both vehicles to work because she never knew when she would have to stay over for some reason or the other. It was about a thirty minute drive, past fallow tobacco fields and deep, green woods with slim towering pines and spreading oaks. Lately, this was the only time she had to herself. Her mind would wander like a ship with a broken rudder.
Dusty was her man; solid and chiseled as Roosevelt on Mt. Rushmore. When they lay in bed she liked to tease him with her long fingers until, laughing with pleasure, she would throw off the covers and kiss his strong body until he was trembling with desire. She smiled to herself as she envisioned herself over him, letting her heavy breasts dangle before his wet licking mouth.
A cloud passed over the bright sun and the road darkened. Dusty was acting strange, it seemed to her. He had always been attentive, but for the past few days he had treated her like the Queen of Sheba, messaging her throbbing feet, scratching the unreachable parts of her smooth back, cooking wonderful meals. One night he had almost spelled out "War and Peace" with his tongue and she thought she would black out from pleasure. He had always been a quiet man but now he was almost silent. It was almost like he was brooding.
There were vague rumours at the jobsite, too. Just small snippets and asides from the men when they didn't think she was listening. A fishing trip. Spike and Dusty. Stan. Wednesday. And now Dusty with three days off as they waited for the urinalysis results. Good thing he hadn't smoked anything the other night. As she drove, her mind whirled these bits together and tried to make some sense of it.
She stopped to pick up beer and something for dinner at the Piggly Wiggly. She wore tight faded blue jeans with a white tshirt and heavy steel toed boots. Her long black hair was tied up from where she kept it mostly hidden when she wore the shiny white foreman's hardhat. She went inside pushing a small cart, walking tall and regal and long legged. The gawky boy stacking the shelves followed her with his eyes as did the manager in his tinted glassed office. Honey pushed the cart to the meat section on the stained linoleum floor. One of the wheels spun uselessly.
When she turned at the end of the aisle she hesitated. There was Angel and Stan looking down into a meat case. She pushed on, the cart pulling to the left like a car with a flat.
"Hey, Miss Honey," said Angel, smiling like her namesake.
"Hey, Angel."
"We're trying to decide what to get for dinner," Angel continued.
Her baby blue eyes were clouded and her speech slurred. A long sleeved flannel shirt was unbuttoned and her overly large breasts pushed out of the tight tshirt she wore underneath.
Honey nodded. Stan was behind their cart, studying the clear packaged pork like it was the last two minutes of a tied Super Bowl.
"Chicken or pork? Or hamburgers. I just don't know. Maybe we'll just get a whopper at Burger King."
Angel's voice faded to a sweet choir as Honey stared at Stan. He ignored her. Suddenly she was transported back to that night in the emergency room with bloody Clare. A chill came over her. It flooded back to her like a broken levee, the moans of pain, the utter heartbreak to know a man she loved did this to her. The disenchantment; the sweet innocence lost. Her mouth set in a grim determination.
"I have to go," she said and, without getting anything, she abandoned the cart as soon as she turned the aisle and strode through the store, the sounds of her heavy boots echoing, until she pushed open the swinging glass doors and was again in the bright sunshine. She climbed up into the warm seat and sat for a moment, breathing deep; trying to calm down. She started the jeep and drove home, her mind numb with a dark foreboding fear. But something new was there, an emotion that almost gave her pleasure with it's grusome images. The phantoms of revenge lurked close to the surface.
She flew down the dirt path and parked in a cloud of dust. Dusty stood over the open hood of his own jeep, tall and shirtless, his broad chest brown from the sun. He wiped his hands with a white cloth and, looking at her, wiped his hands on a white rag. Empty oil cans lay at his feet. Honey leaned over the steering wheel with her eyes closed. He walked over.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
Honey was silent. She opened her eyes and then she climbed down and fell into his strong arms.
"What is it?"
"I don't know what you've got planned. And I've heard some rumours. But I don't care. I don't care."
Dusty held her at arms length. He had felt the warm tears as they flowed down her cheeks and onto his skin. Her fingernails had dug into the flesh of his back.
He nodded and led her inside. It was Tuesday night.

That night, in the big bed, Dusty lay on his back and Honey had her head on his chest. She lay awake, thinking. One of his strong arms was around her. The ceiling fan slowly spun overhead and its cool breeze flowed down on them. They had made love of a sorts earlier. Dusty had never been so gentle, she thought, as if she were a priceless Ming vase he was afraid would break. The emotions were now so deep between them, so full it almost overwhelmed her. As Dusty lightly snored she felt his semen mixed with her juices slip out of her and puddle between her legs. It made a cool, damp spot on the sheets.
She remembered how they had met and played pool at Jethros, how they had collided like the double stars they had seen on the Discovery channel, to make one brilliant sun. She soon drifted off to sleep, her heart heavy as a handfull of lead.
They were awake at four the next morning and she lay abed as Dusty fixed coffee. When it was done she joined him in the kitchen, where they sat at the table. She had pulled on the big tshirt he had worn last night. Dusty was in his cut-off jeans shorts, his legs tan from their previous trips to the beach. He poured her a cup and set it before her. They were silent. Neither could think of anything to say. Honey was afraid if she opened her mouth to speak she would just break down. Dusty could feel her anxiousness; it was the deep melancholy of a funeral home, of a wake, of a filled coffin being lowered into the soft ground.
"I gotta go," he finally said and stood up. He pushed the chair in and it loudly scraped on the tile floor.
"I know."
Honey stood up and they walked through the large open main room and to the front door where Dusty put his arms around her and they hugged. She thought he would squeeze the air from her lungs.
"Make love to me one more time," Honey said and there was urgency in her hoarse voice.
They kissed and then Dusty picked her up and carried her to the couch where he lay her down, her black hair shining with the moonbeams coming through the windows.
He stood over her and unzipped his shorts and dropped them and his underwear in one motion. Honey looked up at him and took him in, as if for the last time. His thick, hairy legs, now tanned up to mid thigh, his big barrel of a chest under the tshirt. She sat up and gripped him on his sides and, leaning her head, she took him limply into her mouth. She gently sucked as she moved her head and it stretched out long and thin and soft. She felt a satisfaction as it filled with blood and grew larger in her mouth until it stretched her wet lips. She stopped and looked at the end where a clear drop of fluid gathered at the opening. Her pointed tongue lapped it and she tasted his sweet saltiness. She licked around and around the plum sized head, her pink tongue lashing the sensitive nerves like a slippery, declawed, cat-o-nine-tails. Dusty moaned with pleasure and stood still, his hips not moving.
Honey took the head back into her mouth where it lay on her tongue. She licked sideways on the bottom where the skin comes together underneath. She could feel his legs tremble and the deep groans of pleasure.
She removed it again and her tongue lashed the thick shaft up one side and then down the other. She licked and sucked until it was rigid as steel and throbbing in her hand. It was wet with her saliva. She opened her mouth wide and he felt the pressure of her lips on him and then her head was moving, steadily faster, until he gently pulled her head away. It smacked loudly in the silent room when it came out and stood straight out like a outstretched, accusing arm.
"You better stop that," he said.
He reached down and pulled the tshirt off her and lay her back on the soft cushions. He knelt and they kissed, Dusty's mouth suddenly full with an urgent, wet, strangely musky tasting tongue. Honey's mouth was as opened wide as it could get and her arms around his neck pulled him to her tightly. Soft whimpers came from her. Their saliva mixed like a sticky sweat. Honey tightened her lips around his tongue and slowly sucked it in and out.
They broke free and he kissed her neck, sliding his tongue underneath her ear and licking the soft crease until she shivered and moved away, laughing with pleasure. He found the sensitive spot near her soft shoulder and as he nibbled on it, she arched her back off the pillows.
Dusty kissed down to her breasts, which he had ignored until now, and as he knelt on the floor, he ran his tongue along the underside of them, and then on both sides, leaving a slippery wet trail as he covered them with saliva. His tongue flicked at the hardening brown nipples.
As he took them finally into his suckling mouth, he tickled at her black thatch of pubic hair. Gripping the soft, dark skin of her firm leg he pulled it away and set it on the floor. His nose filled with the pungnancy of lust. His middle finger slowly ran up and down her slit until it found the origin of her wetness. It slid in and Honey's hips moved to meet it's probing.
"Ohhhhhhh!" she huskily moaned.
He looked at her face as he moved to the other breast. Her dark eyes were like almonds as they looked back at him, filled with longing and lust.
He gently sucked at the sensitive nipple and flicked it with his tongue. His fingers, slick with her honey thick secretions, slid up to her button of a clitoris, where he did lazy circles around it, never quite touching. Using all four fingers he moved them as if plucking a harp. Honey closed her eyes and her wide hips rocked laciviously back and forth. Dusty continued this, ever increasing the speed and intensity, until she would tremble on the verge of orgasm and then he would stop.
Her round breasts lay on her chest like brown- tipped hills and he lifted his face and stared at her own, which was scrunched up in disappointment. Her arms pulled him to her. Dusty climbed over her and, holding himself with one hand, he slid the end up and down along her open, wet orifice. Honey put her arms around his back and pulled him to her until she felt the end slide in and then he pulled it out until it just touched her engorged labia. A string of clear fluid, slight as a spider's web, still connected their flesh. Then he slowly slid in another inch and withdrew it
Honey felt him stretching her; she still wasn't used to his large size. The inside of her vagina was a ganglia of sensation as he slowly, slowly, ever so slowly pushed inside. Soft moans came from her as her flesh yielded like wet satin. Then he was completely inside, his pubis rubbing against hers, and she felt full as she had ever felt, filled with him utterly. They started slowly moving. Then the tempo picked up and soon they were moving as one. Suddenly Dusty stopped. She felt him touching the end and she trembled with the pleasurable pain. She concentrated hard and squeezed him with her muscles and then she felt him throb, the big head contracting with soft spasms.
"Already?"
"Sorry, babe. You shouldn't have gripped it like that."
Honey closed her eyes and moved under him while he remained hard inside. He moved his hand down to where they were joined together and, lubricating his fingers with their juices, he rubbed her clitoris as she raced toward her orgasm. He watched her face and soon she grimaced as if in pain and then it was like seeing a rainbow form as she stopped afterward, panting and sweaty with exertion and looked into his eyes.
"I love ya, cowboy. You better come back to me."
Dusty nodded.
"Love you, too, baby."
Honey lay still watching as he pulled on his clothes. He leaned over to kiss her and she pulled him to her and held him tight. She closed her eyes and didn't open them for a long time after the door closed and she heard his jeep crank up and leave down the path.

Nina_Dee 62F

7/11/2006 4:30 am

Beautiful imagery, Spark.


sparkee58 replies on 7/11/2006 7:36 am:
i'm glad you like it, nina

HBowt2 60F

7/20/2006 3:13 pm

I wonder why this one was my favourite....the words seemed to flow wonderfully...


sparkee58 replies on 7/21/2006 3:55 am:
different days
sometimes it just flows,
not very often, though

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