The man crawled out of the ditch like a Darwinian creature emerging to rectify her night.
“It’s true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes,” he told her almost cheerily.
“I’m sorry. You startled me. I’ve never seen hitchhikers on the island before. Ray’s Cab Service runs all night. If it rings for awhile, he’s sleeping, but he’ll get up eventually. Where are you headed?”
“My truck broke down back yonder and I don’t carry a phone.” The man shielded his eyes from the torrential downpour, as if his hand were any match for the deluge that pounded down around them.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “We can speak in my car.” Marilyn gestured to her car and put her hand out to steady herself on the familiar chrome of her vehicle she’d driven ever since they moved to the island.
They hopped in the car speedily and the man shook water from his hair not unlike Pete did after fetching sticks from the foamy ocean.
“Woohoo, what a monsoon!”
“It’s hurricane season,” Marilyn said, shaking her head. “You must not be from around here.” He obviously wasn’t from around here. He smiled at her and shrugged. The man was easy-going and light, unheard of qualities in the men from these parts. His emerald eyes stopped her from reaching for the key. They were unlike any color she’d ever seen before in any other iris, bright and jewel-toned, faceted and sparkling like a diamond. She pressed her lips together and swallowed, lifted her skirt so her milky thighs were exposed right up to the line of the garter. Because they were wet and so was she. Drenched. Dripping. Her muscles quivered in anticipation.
She wanted to spout off baby names from the tip of her tongue. Her obsession was perverse. She wanted to suck him dry and leave as full as possible. Maybe the night wasn’t a total washout after all.
“Wow, you’re really beautiful,” the man said quizzically and then quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry, that just slipped out. And totally inappropriate considering the circumstances. You just caught me off guard.”
“No matter,” she dismissed his apology. Her eyes voraciously sized him up, lingered suggestively on the bulge between his legs, his lips, and then returned to look deeply into his gaze. “Where do you want to go?” Marilyn enunciated every syllable and laced her words with temptation.
“Oh, a hotel, if there’s one close by? If not, I suppose a gas station or a twenty-four-hour diner would do me right.”
“There’s a hotel up ahead.” She stepped on the gas and pulled back on the road with purpose.
The orange blinking sign of the motel blurred double through the windshield and falling rain. She turned into the lot and savored the familiar crunch of gravel under the car’s tires; a sound she’d come to associate with acute anticipation and welcome nervousness.
“I really can’t thank you enough. I know stopping for a stranger this day in age really—”
“Shut up,” Marilyn replied curtly. She opened the car door and stepped out into the parking lot. She peeled the wet cardigan off and dropped it on the ground behind her as she marched toward the yellow-lighted reception where Josephine lorded over the peg board of keys like pirates’ gold. Marilyn hated her priggish insistence on inspecting the rooms upon checkout while she stood humiliated under the florescent light, love bruises blossoming on her chest, swollen lipped, and reeking of sex. Josephine wasn’t dumb, she knew exactly what Marilyn was up to and made her pay simply by adhering to puritanical policies in the face of her guests’ messy discomposure—or in Marilyn’s case—her loose whoring and insatiable flesh.
“Sinful,” she heard Josephine sniff as the bell chimed and the door bumped her backside.
“I need a room,” Marilyn told her robotically.
“Hey, I can take it from here,” the John said as he ran in from the rain, he held a local paper over his head that he must have grabbed from the metal newspaper machine by the door.
His eyes lit up a room. Marilyn grinned slyly as she watched Josephine try to mask her reaction to the stranger’s beautiful face. Marilyn appraised his backside as he made his way to the desk.
“The usual? 107, Mrs. French?”
It was a bogus name. Josephine got her kicks out of using Mrs. every time she ducked in the woman’s blasted, chiming door. The hotel was stifled at least four decades behind. Campy and over-compensatory, apologetic for its hideousness. Marilyn stuck her tongue out like a snake tasting the stale air.
“Oh, we have her credit card on file here, dear,” Josephine delightedly told the John. It didn’t seem to faze him.
“This way,” Marilyn yelled at him. Josephine threw the keys with the sad green plastic fob at her and she snatched them out of the air. “Fucking cunty old bag,” Marilyn muttered under her breath.
“Listen, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you didn’t have to pay for my room . . .” The John jogged behind to catch up with her as she marched with purpose toward 107. She didn’t bother to move her car, she wouldn’t be too long and the rain was already waning. “Do you have a name? I really do appreciate you picking me up.”
Insert key. Pull shitty plywood door toward you first, then push in as you turn hard to the right.
“Marilyn,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Decker,” he replied. Decker chased behind her innocently, probably still befuddled over what the hell had transpired in the last fifteen minutes to get him to this moment.
She shoved open the door and breathed in deep, the must, the mold, the cheap air freshener they used to cover the unpleasantness. Marilyn knew to turn on the lamp and not the glaring overhead light. She marched through the dark toward the bedside table and clicked the dial on the wire illuminating the orange and gold décor of Cliff Side Motel.
“It’s not beautiful, but it works.” She shrugged dismissively, kicked off her heels, unzipped the back of her skirt and let it puddle around her feet. She shrugged off her camisole to reveal the black lace of her bra, panty, and garter against her pale cream skin.
“God, you look familiar, like an actress or something. Do I know you?” Decker asked her. He seemed desperate to keep his jaw up as realization of her intentions was finally dawning on him.
“No. I’m not.” She pulled her bra down and slipped the lace underneath her breasts, essentially pushing them together and forward so they tipped up succulently as if on a platter offered to her new friend. It was D day, time for her succinct soliloquy to explain what she wanted.
“I paid for this room tonight, because I want to fuck. For as long as you can and as hard as you can. I want you to make me come as many times as you are capable. I, in turn, will make you come as many times as is physically possible. My only caveat is that you come inside me without protection.”
At that she reached inside her purse and extracted the paper that she’d unfolded and re-folded so many times it had become delicate like a crunchy fall leaf.
“I’m clean. Here’s my lab results. I trust you to tell me right now if you suffer from any STDs or otherwise contagious diseases.”
He backed up to the wall until his boots hit the baseboard.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered. His bright green eyes, so full of wonderment, lowered from hers to her breasts.
Marilyn dipped her own head and tongued her lifted nipple. She couldn’t quite suck it, but her agile tongue grazed it long enough to make it pucker and tingle.
“So, are you clean, Deck-er?” she divided his name into two competing syllables. Marilyn sauntered over to him nearly naked, with a sense of urgency brewing between her legs. With one hand she grasped the bulge in his jeans and raked the denim with her long red-painted fingernails. “Up to the task?”
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he said, running a distraught hand through his boyish hair.
“Only if you want to,” she quickly assured him, removing her hand discretely. “You can just sleep too and I’ll be on my merry way. I don’t m
ean to scare you.”
“Oh, hell no, I’m down. So down. Just let me get my bearings.” He licked his lips, looked toward the ceiling and seemed to utter a little prayer to the shitty fiber tiles above him. “My grandfather always told me I was a lucky sonofabitch, but this might take the cake.” He reached for her breasts, and thumbed her nipples instantaneously making them harden again.
Marilyn stepped up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his. “Remember, come inside me as many times as you possibly can,” she whispered into his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he swept her up in his arms.
* * *
She loved Ove, but this was . . . better.
Decker wasn’t shy about using his tongue, he kissed her hard and opened-mouthed, sucking her tongue into his own warm mouth. His kiss was immature bordering on brutal, like coitus in how he fucked her mouth, thrusting and groaning as if his eager tongue were an extension of his swollen dick. She loved it and moaned.
“Jesusfuckingchrist,” he said in response to her sounds.
His thumbs worked her nipples as he cupped the swells in his palms. When he ducked his head to suckle the two aroused stones, he first bit the rounded mounds shoved up by her bra. His teeth scraped her flesh and her abdominal muscles clenched down in a rush of desire so fierce it felt like a fever break.
“How hard can you fuck me? How hard is this cock?” she asked him as he devoured her breasts, nursing one nipple and then the next, swirling his tongue over the tip roughly. She was turned on to the brink of insanity. Her fingers found their way into his jeans and she cupped and tugged his balls. “Give it to me. Empty yourself inside me,” she taunted him as he suckled her ripe breasts. He licked the hardened nubs in retaliation, until her head fell back and she hissed at the ceiling.
Marilyn was so wet she felt herself drip in anticipation. Decker continued eating her tits like a starved man who couldn’t sate himself. She wrapped her fingers around his erection and smiled at the size and girth of tonight’s catch.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re going to fuck me so good,” she told him running her loosely clenched fist up and down the long shaft.
“Holyfuckingshit,” Decker said before he thirstily took her mouth again.
“You want to be on top?” Marilyn asked him kindly as she helped him out of his jeans and light flannel.
“I want to eat your pussy,” Decker told her. He caught her nipple and latched on again sucking voraciously. Marilyn was afraid she’d come just from the friction her two thighs made together. She struggled to take a deep breath and calm her pounding heart and her need-to-get-pounded nether regions. Calm down, she told herself.
He could eat her out, but she wanted him inside her when she came—get the muscles moving in the right direction to take in his precious seed.
“You can if you’d like, but I want to come from your dick, with you inside me.” She felt the release of precum from his tip that burst forth with her words. “And you can fuck my face too, if you want, but the same goes. I want you inside me when you come,” she said looking sincerely into his eyes.
“Ohmyfuckinggod, this can’t be real.” He pushed her back onto the bed.
She scooted up the length, bent her knees, and then spread conservatively before him to reveal her glistening, nearly pulsating slit.
“What’s the most you’ve ever come in one night?” she asked. He crawled up toward her, a cocky smile displayed on her lips.
“Just twice, but I’m willing to try anything,” he told her. He pinched the inside of her thigh hard enough to make her squirm and squeal. Then lowered his head and licked up her crack from hole to hole.
“Good boy,” she told him and lowered her hips to the mattress.
* * *
When he penetrated her with his tongue to the hilt, the stubble of his chin grazed her asshole. She screamed out in sheer frustration from holding back the powerful orgasm that was completely overtaking her anatomy.
“Fuck me, fuck me. Give me your cock, now!” she hollered.
“Shhh!” he shushed her, putting a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” He smiled at her mischievously, his bright green eyes sparkling in the lamp light. Wrapping a hand through her long hair, he yanked her toward his straining erection that was pushing against his belly.
She swallowed his cock deeply, craving every ridge and every bulging vein against her lips and tongue. Decker had no problem pushing deep and fucking her mouth as if it were a bottomless hole. His balls slapped under her chin while ropes of saliva strung down her face. She liked that he was unencumbered, that he fucked her hard realizing he should take advantage of the opportunity.
“You feel so fucking good,” he told her. He pulled her hair to control her head, his grip soft, but the size of his raging erection and the thrust of his hips nearly took her to the limit. She gagged on his cock and he didn’t back away. Instead, he caressed her cheek as if she were precious, mouth stuffed with his dick. “Suck my balls,” he ordered her as he finally pulled back, slowly, taking his time to extract every millimeter of pleasure.
Marilyn obliged him, tugging the heavy sacs softly with her full lips. He massaged her breasts in circles until his thick fingers skidded across her stomach to find her clit. He slapped at her pussy with a cupped hand and the sensation sent shock waves resounding through her muscles. She was so afraid to come, with his cock too far from her cunt.
He slapped her again and Marilyn yelped, holding in the orgasm to save her life. She licked up his tightened shaft and rolled the hard edge of his cut tip across her lips, in and out of her mouth. She pulled herself up higher, clinging to his biceps until she was standing on her knees just like him. She rubbed the tip of his dripping cock with her belly button.
“You want me to put it in?” he asked coyly. He knew what she wanted. “Ask me, nicely, Marilyn and maybe I’ll let you ride me. How bad do you want this dick?”
Decker slapped his erection to the side and fisted his dick with a fluency that translated as beauty to her eyes. He handled himself so well, obviously knew how to get himself off. He could just jerk a few times right now and spill the precious fluid Marilyn coveted so much.
“Decker, I want it so badly. Please let me ride your dick, please fuck me. I’ll do anything you want if you put it inside me!” She didn’t even know she was capable of spouting such nonsense, begging for a cock like a hungry little whore with zero self-respect. But alas, that’s what she’d become. His semen was gold to her, life essence, that she’d pay for however he wanted her to, drop for every last drop.
“You ever been fucked in the ass before?”
“Nope.” Marilyn shook her head. She popped a finger into her mouth thoughtlessly.
“You look like a little baby when you do that,” he told her.
She smiled.
“Here, suck on your grown-up pacifier.” He stuck his furious cock in her face and she took him again into her mouth. “I just want to get it in your ass. You’re so tight and I’m so big. Just a little warm-up through the back door. Okay, Marilyn?”
She pulled back from the mouthful he’d given her.
“Whatever you want, Decker, I’m yours all night long.” She resumed licking the head and running her tongue up and down the shaft.
“Turn over and stick your ass up. No crying. Don’t be a baby.”
He jerked her back by the hips abruptly shaking the answer from her mouth. His tongue landed hot and heavy on her little hole and he swirled around twice before breaking the barrier and shoving forward with his mouth.
“Ohhh!” Marilyn squealed at the unfamiliar feeling and in response he slapped her ass with a stinging smack. He spit on her asshole and gently pushed his thumb past the ringed sphincter all the way to his knuckle.
Marilyn squirmed and felt a tugging fire that ran from her mouth to her nipples, her clit all the way to her back door. She pushed back hesitantly and Decker spit
again. Once she accommodated his finger fucking she pushed back tentatively in surprised enjoyment.
“I’m in your ass, Marilyn. I think you like it,” he told her devilishly.
“Decker—” His name barely fell from her lips and he was lifting to stand on his knees, withdrawing his thumb, and smacking her backdoor playfully with his dick.
“Marilyn, do you have lube in that bag of tricks of yours?”
“Aquaphor,” she told him. She couldn’t speak straight with the impending prospect of getting fucked in the ass.
“That will work.” Decker promptly got to work lubricating himself with the ointment in her purse. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and grimaced at the thought of what was about to happen to her. But she was willing to endure it for the pearly prize she needed so badly.
“If you don’t relax, it’s going to hurt.”
She feigned a relaxed face without leaving her ass-in-the-air pose. He laughed at her antics as he coated his cock. When he climbed back on the bed, Marilyn crossed her ankles and it was her turn to say a prayer.
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered as he began to massage her clit with the tips of his fingers. His pace and pressure were surprisingly accurate for a man his age and Marilyn’s body gripped and readied as if it were about to climax against her solid and stubborn will, which at this point, was grasping at straws—grasping and panting.
When he started to slide in, every muscle fiber in her clenched. Marilyn forced her body to calm down, reminding herself that mind over matter accomplished incredible feats.
“Try to let the muscles in your lower abdomen relax, it will trigger the whole chain to respond—”
“Like that?”
“There we go,” he told her. The head of his cock was inside and the burn made her want to cry and then punch him in the face. But, alas, she’d asked for it. Goddamned ass-expert. The more she slackened her lower belly—the more he slid home. And, inadvertently on her part, the more the burn turned into alarming pulses of decadent pleasure. When his balls knocked into her clit, she shuddered and bore down on his dick trying to expel him.
Mixtape: A Love Song Anthology Page 19