Twenty-Seven
O ur starter was cold, but did I give a fuck? Like hell. I was serious about a hundred fucks before I die, and I was determined to keep count. I created a ‘fuck list’ on my phone and noted down both occasions. It sounds sick or pathetic, I guess, but I wanted to be able to look at it and see the different places we’d managed to get it on. And yeah, I wasn’t supposed to have sex yet, and yeah, I’d probably made myself bleed again, but I couldn’t give a fuck, because it was worth every fucking second.
“Would you like me to bring you something else?” The waitress was back and fussing about our cold food.
“Sorry, darlin’. Our little chat took a bit longer than planned, but it was our fault. We’ll just wait for our mains thanks.” She took away the cold uneaten food, and I watched as Camille nursed her drink with pink cheeks.
“You need to hold your head high, wife. Nothing wrong with what we did in there. We’re married, and we’re allowed to fuck any time we want.”
She sipped her drink and stared out the window, watching people walking by.
“They know what we were doing in there. I’m mortified, Stitch. I told you the exhibitionist thing isn’t me. I’m all for deviant sexual behaviour, but I’m not comfortable with people knowing about it.”
Hell... she was in for a shock then.
“If you’re gonna live in the clubhouse, girl, they’re gonna know we’re fucking in there. ”
Her eyes widened. “Live in the clubhouse? When was that decision made? We haven’t discussed that?” Shit, we hadn’t. I’d made an assumption, but then, she had that cute little house, didn’t she?
“Is it a definite no? They’re my family.”
Our food arrived then, briefly shelving the subject, as we started our food.
“I’m not saying it’s absolutely a no, Stitch, I’m just saying that we haven’t discussed anything beyond our honeymoon. That’s big stuff that we need to talk about later.”
Yeah, that’s the kind of shit normal people do, right? People who have a ‘later’ and a ‘future’. What a sobering reminder of our short time together. My appetite disappeared mid-bite, and I set my fork down.
“Are you okay?”
I finished my beer, and waved at the waitress for another.
“Yeah.”
“You can talk to me about stuff, you know that, right? Even if we weren’t married, I’d still be here for you. I’m not as good as Lissa, but I can listen.”
I didn’t want reality to intrude on our honeymoon, and I didn’t want to have to think about my impending demise, so I waved her off and pointed at her food.
“Tuck in, gorgeous. You’re gonna need your energy. Married fuck number three is happening when we get back to the camper.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think about?”
I debated offering some kind of blasé response, but in the end I opted for honesty.
“Camille, you’re honestly the only good thing happening to me right now. The best part of my life, so why the fuck would I want to concentrate on anything other than you? I want to do everything with you, and to you, and I’m not exactly planning to take it slow. If that’s a problem, you need to tell me, because I don’t want to be some kind of fucking burden here. I just don’t want to waste a minute with you. I’m a selfish bastard, and I want every fucking minute of your time. Every breath, every sigh, every smile, and every fucking sound you make while I’m inside you, while any part of me is inside you. And I’ve seen your bucket list, girl, I know the kind of shit you want to experience, and I want to give you every damn thing on that list.”
Camm y
I didn’t argue with him, so we finished our food and walked back to the camper, enjoying the cool night air and the warmth of Stitch’s arm over my shoulders.
“We weren’t supposed to have sex, by the way. Doc’s going to be mad at you.”
Stitch snorted, tightening his arm around me.
“Can’t say I give a fuck about his opinion right now, girl. I feel fine, and for as long as I feel fine, I need to live.”
I wished he could stop thinking about his impending demise, and live for me, rather than to race against that ticking clock only he could see.
“Stitch?”
“Yeah, sexy?”
I took a breath, steeling myself.
“When are your test results due? I don’t think you ever said.”
I literally felt the way his entire body tensed at my question, but he never slowed his pace.
“Not sure. Sometime soon. You know what it’s like with the NHS, everything takes time.”
I hated pushing him, but it was important, because what if he was chasing an end date that was years off, decades even?
“Don’t you think you should chase them up? The sooner you know-”
He’d stopped moving, turning to face me as I stopped alongside him.
“The sooner I know, what? The sooner I know I’m definitely dying, I can start putting my shit in order? The sooner I know I’m dying, I can just give up, and die quietly? Do you think seeing it in writing is gonna change anything? I know what I feel. I know what the odds are. I know I’m going out far fucking sooner than I wanted to.” He paused for a moment, his breathing a little faster.
“I always thought I’d go out on my bike, you know? Like it’d be some reckless accident, where I’d go out like a fucking god, and everyone would be like ‘wow, that dude was fucking awesome’. Instead, I’m gonna be wasting away in a hospice somewhere, with bags strapped to me, while I writhe in agony, and pray that clock would tick a little faster. It terrifies me, Camille. I want to go out with a bang, a sudden crash of violence, and lights out. Not that long drawn out death scene that everyone prays would just fucking end.”
He suddenly pulled away from me and walked ahead, but I saw his hand brush across his eyes. He was in so much pain, and I’d just made it worse. Why hadn’t I just let him enjoy this new sense of living for the moment that he’d been reaching for? Why didn’t I just enjoy him the way he was right now?
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, striding just ahead of me.
“Let’s just get back, okay? It’s colder out here than I expected, and you don’t have a jacket.” He paused. “You could wear my cut, but it won’t keep your arms warm.” He started shoving it over his shoulders, but I stopped him, wrapping both arms around him from behind.
“Just stop, Stitch, please. I’m only cold if you take your warmth from me, okay? Don’t push me away, when all I want is to be near you.” I felt the tension drain from his body as I held him, and then he moved, dragging me around to his front with those strong arms of his.
His breathing was a little shaky, but I let him hold me tight against him, and didn’t ask, didn’t address the fact that I’d upset him, because he deserved to hide his tears if he needed to.
Stitch
W e didn’t fuck that night when we got back after all. We went back to the camper and we curled up in the bed together, laying there in silence, until her breathing deepened and I knew she was fast asleep.
Yet again, I cursed the fact that I didn’t find her until I had no damn time left to spend with her. She deserved years of being loved, and pampered and worshipped. She deserved years of pure deviant pleasure and rough fucking, just like she seemed to really crave.
I cast my mind back through her x-rated bucket list, because right from the moment she started creating hers, it was filled with all kinds of filthy things, unlike mine. I’d held back from listing anything sexual, because I was so sure that I’d already had my last fuck long ago. She’d changed all that.
I glanced down at her sleeping form, as her face rested against my chest, and one leg draped over mine. We were naked, of course, because why would we want clothes separating us from each other in bed? She moaned in her sleep, edging closer to me, her leg dragging her closer, so her pussy was practically draped over my leg, its warmth seeping into my skin… and that’s when I remembered something from her list.
I pressed my lips against the top of her head and she sighed in her sleep, pressing closer to me again. Huh… maybe time for another bucket list item, even though I had no idea if it’d work.
I slid my hand slowly down her back, cupping one pert ass cheek, and she barely reacted, so deeply asleep again. I reached my other hand around her ass and squeezed both cheeks in sync. A light moan, but no other response. I risked moving both of us then, dragging her fully on top of me, with her legs either side of mine.
She was trapping my dick between us, and that was a problem, but one I’d deal with in a minute. Moving her had caused her to become restless for a moment, like she was about to wake, but then a light snore filled the air, and her soft breaths tickled the side of my neck.
I went from cupping her ass cheeks to trailing my fingers between them, teasing her crack, and pulling her cheeks apart to tease at the hole I planned to take at some point. It wasn’t on her list, but she didn’t seem opposed to the idea, so it was definitely on mine. The one in my head, the one I’d started to list on my phone now that I’d warmed to the idea of sex again.
I pulled Camille’s legs apart, draping her over me like a wanton sex goddess, which she clearly was. Now that I had her spread out, I was able to dip my fingers lower, and tease between her legs. It wasn’t ideal, and I could only just reach, but all I had to do was get her wet enough, right?
One dip of my fingers between her pussy lips was enough, because the little vixen was already wet, wasn’t she? I had a sneaking suspicion I knew exactly why.
“Camille?” My voice was a really low whisper, just in case she was still asleep, but I was pretty sure she was faking it at this point.
Her breathing wasn’t as deep as it had been before, and I had no idea when that had changed, probably during my awkward attempts to move her where I wanted her.
“If you’re awake, just keep pretending, girl. I need to get my dick in you in the worst fucking way.”
I was still whispering, but her breathing had definitely changed again, coming more rapidly now.
Hell. I took the plunge, and rolled us, taking her onto her back, as I grasped my dick and guided it between her slack legs as I covered her with my body.
One slick glide, and I was ‘balls deep’, and she was still faking it, her head tipped to the side. It was the slight curve of her lips that gave her away now.
“Such a wicked little minx, enticing me with that sleepy warm body, while she was awake and fucking loving every second of my touch.”
Her lips quirked a little more, but she clearly intended on faking sleep a little longer. I decided to test her resolve, and see how long she could keep up that facade.
Cammy
I loved him for trying. For trying to give me that forbidden wishlist item that I hadn’t even realised he’d seen. I’d woken almost instantly when he started trying to position me over his warm body. I’d been secretly hoping that he was about to mess with me while I slept, and then his fingers started teasing at my ass, and I couldn’t help how horny that made me. Even though he wasn’t actually going there, he was clearly planning something.
I don’t know when he realised I was awake, but I kept pretending, because it was adding to the fun for both of us. Stitch withdrew fully from me, and rammed in hard, while I tried not to react. It was so hard not to, because he was fucking me so forcefully that I wanted to grip his arms, and writhe with him, riding him as he rode me so hard.
Every time he slid out of me, I tried not to let out a whine of complaint, because I knew he was going to ram back inside me. The next time he withdrew, he moved up onto his knees, lifting my hips and dragging me up to meet him, and then he started jackhammering me. He was practically jarring my bones with each powerful thrust, and he was moving so fast I couldn’t even pretend anymore.
My breathing wasn’t breathing anymore. It was something more, something animalistic. Grunting noises, as every sharp crash of his body against mine literally pushed sounds out of me. When I met his eyes, he was grinning widely.
“Aw, sorry babe. Did I wake you?” I loved his wicked grin, as he continued to rail me, showing no mercy each time I gasped or whined in response to his thrusts.
I tried to answer as he slowed his thrusts, but each time I opened my mouth to speak, he hit me deep inside, and my words dissipated into a ragged response that could never be deciphered.
When Stitch suddenly pressed his thumb down on my clit, which he’d been routinely crashing against with his heavy thrusts, it was all I needed to send me over the edge, as every inch of me felt my orgasm blasting through me. I nearly bucked right out of his lap, and forced him out of me, as I came, and didn’t he look proud as fuck as he watched me.
“That’s my girl… taking my dick like a fucking goddess. Nearly crushed my dick when you just came. I can’t fucking believe you’re mine, Camille. How the hell did I get so damn lucky?” He was fucking me in ragged jerks now, as he chased his own release.
“I love you, Stitch, even if you did just disturb me from a great dream.”
His laughter chuffed out of him as he gripped my hips tighter, rocking into me several more times before he suddenly backed up and withdrew. He grabbed his dick, rubbing it as he ejaculated all over my pussy and my stomach.
“There we go… that’s my fucking goddess, covered in my cum, like the deliciously twisted little whore she is.”
His words shouldn’t have touched so deep inside me, but they did. Not just for the coarse words he used, but also because he sounded so fucking in love with me, that it made my heart soar too. I might be a little whore, but I was his little whore, and so proud of that fact.
Stitch trailed his fingers through his cum on my skin.
“Will you hate me if I want you to sleep like this? I like the idea of you being marked as mine. No clearer signal to other men than you being covered in my cum, right?”
“What other men, Stitch?”
He kept his eyes on his fingers, as he smeared his cum all over my stomach, running his fingers up between my breasts.
“I know you’re a fucking catch, Camille, too good for me, by a long way. I’m too selfish to let you go though, because I see you as mine now. That sounds like some kind of caveman shit, doesn’t it? Like it should be a red flag for you, and I get that. I just can’t help it. I want to own you, want you as my old lady. I just want you.”
I wished I could be his old lady.
“That takes a vote, right?”
He nodded, then pulled away from me, rolling onto his back beside me.
“Doesn’t matter though. I’m not gonna be around long enough to have that, so I’m not forcing you to wear my name. That shit’s permanent.”
Anger and sadness warred inside me, as I bit back what I wanted to say, and tried the gentle approach.
“What if I want to, Stitch?”
And what did my delightful husband say then? He huffed out a frustrated sound, and uttered a very firm response.
“No.” No? He said he wanted all these things, but he didn’t want me as his old lady? I was stunned by how much that hurt, that ‘no’. The way it was said in a harsh, abrupt kind of way. Was he just blowing smoke up my ass with all the other things he said? Did he just want what he could get for now, until I came to my senses and left him?
He said he didn’t want me to wear his name if he wouldn’t be around long enough, but was that really it? Or did he just not want to wear mine into the next life?