AmyRoberts
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"The Bloody Road" (closed)
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Rick345
Literotica Guru
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- Oct 7, 2008
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“Good night Mrs Hudson”, Rick waved at the matronly woman her hair matching the gray pantsuit she wore which was impeccably pressed and tidy yet a decade out of fashion. She stood in a second story window watching to make sure he made it to his car.
“I hope that boy doesn’t trip over those size twelves”, she mutters to herself.
As his lean six foot frame lumbers toward the white 2002 Toyota Camry, reaching his long slim fingers a key in there trembling grip, unlocking the car he prays it will start as he tosses a book unto the faded thread bare passengers seat. He had read, “Dead Until Dark”, countless times buyt it was funny all of the Sookie Stackhouse novels were hilariously funny an element lost in the TV shows, “True Blood”so he was reading it again.
Opening the door in no time he’s seated and glances up toward the second story but Mrs. Hudson was gone, back to doing her work, his work he been an employee within the whitewashed Greek revival style building complete with columns and life size marble lions guarding the entrance to the downtown branch of oldest library in Louisiana since graduation six years ago but somehow, it seems longer.
He crosses himself and says a silent prayer before twisting the key, then smiles skyward thanking the almighty as the engine springs to life. In no time pulling onto the street thankful the heatwave that smothered the city for over a week was over and evening temperatures have cooled.
“Nice evening for a drive..”, passing his turn off and heading out of town to his favorite place, a levee just south of town a place he and his family used to picnic and watch the tugs guiding the barges and tankers up the Mississippi to New Orleans. His father was a tug boat captain, as was his father and his father’s father. If family stories could be believed he was a distant relation to Mark Twain. That’s why Hannibal, Missouri was on his bucket list.
As he drove, careful not to speed, the smell of urine and rubbish of the city, gave way to fragrance of Magnolias and Honeysuckle, just as the hum of rubber on asphalt, soon gave way to the crunch of gravel, soon changing to the rumble of rubber on hard packed red clay. The white Toyota leaving bellowing clouds of red dust in its wake. In the distance he spied the old and twisted oak its leafs in full bloom offering plenty of shade.
The squeak of brakes and the growl of rubber biting into the dirt was short lived as the car stopped. Pulling the parking brake and opening the door thankful the evening offers a slight breeze just enough to keep the misquotes from swarming around him and taking turns sucking him dry.
Pulling a blanket from the backseat with one hand and “Dead Until Dark” in the over he leans forward climbing the steep bank of the levee pressing his hand against his knee for extra leverage. The wet grass feeling greasy under foot. Soon his head popped over the crest of the levee he could see the mighty Mississippi and took a deep breath. Several in fact though he was only 27 he was woefully out of shape.
But in no time the navy blue blanket was unfurled and laid out. Using the heel of his boot to dislodge several baseball size stones he carefully laid the rocks around the perimeter of the blanket finally satisfied the breeze would be able to catch a corner and hurl the his carefully crafted nest into the river.
He sat down his back resting comfortably against the oak the majesty of the river before him he opened the book and began to read, “I’d been waiting for years when he walked into the bar…..”
“I hope that boy doesn’t trip over those size twelves”, she mutters to herself.
As his lean six foot frame lumbers toward the white 2002 Toyota Camry, reaching his long slim fingers a key in there trembling grip, unlocking the car he prays it will start as he tosses a book unto the faded thread bare passengers seat. He had read, “Dead Until Dark”, countless times buyt it was funny all of the Sookie Stackhouse novels were hilariously funny an element lost in the TV shows, “True Blood”so he was reading it again.
Opening the door in no time he’s seated and glances up toward the second story but Mrs. Hudson was gone, back to doing her work, his work he been an employee within the whitewashed Greek revival style building complete with columns and life size marble lions guarding the entrance to the downtown branch of oldest library in Louisiana since graduation six years ago but somehow, it seems longer.
He crosses himself and says a silent prayer before twisting the key, then smiles skyward thanking the almighty as the engine springs to life. In no time pulling onto the street thankful the heatwave that smothered the city for over a week was over and evening temperatures have cooled.
“Nice evening for a drive..”, passing his turn off and heading out of town to his favorite place, a levee just south of town a place he and his family used to picnic and watch the tugs guiding the barges and tankers up the Mississippi to New Orleans. His father was a tug boat captain, as was his father and his father’s father. If family stories could be believed he was a distant relation to Mark Twain. That’s why Hannibal, Missouri was on his bucket list.
As he drove, careful not to speed, the smell of urine and rubbish of the city, gave way to fragrance of Magnolias and Honeysuckle, just as the hum of rubber on asphalt, soon gave way to the crunch of gravel, soon changing to the rumble of rubber on hard packed red clay. The white Toyota leaving bellowing clouds of red dust in its wake. In the distance he spied the old and twisted oak its leafs in full bloom offering plenty of shade.
The squeak of brakes and the growl of rubber biting into the dirt was short lived as the car stopped. Pulling the parking brake and opening the door thankful the evening offers a slight breeze just enough to keep the misquotes from swarming around him and taking turns sucking him dry.
Pulling a blanket from the backseat with one hand and “Dead Until Dark” in the over he leans forward climbing the steep bank of the levee pressing his hand against his knee for extra leverage. The wet grass feeling greasy under foot. Soon his head popped over the crest of the levee he could see the mighty Mississippi and took a deep breath. Several in fact though he was only 27 he was woefully out of shape.
But in no time the navy blue blanket was unfurled and laid out. Using the heel of his boot to dislodge several baseball size stones he carefully laid the rocks around the perimeter of the blanket finally satisfied the breeze would be able to catch a corner and hurl the his carefully crafted nest into the river.
He sat down his back resting comfortably against the oak the majesty of the river before him he opened the book and began to read, “I’d been waiting for years when he walked into the bar…..”
AmyRoberts
Experienced
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- Dec 21, 2016
- Posts
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Rick345
Literotica Guru
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- Oct 7, 2008
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A cool breeze ruffles his jet black hair, a shiver runs through him as he continues to read. Even on the river were there is some relief from the dog days of August, August when air usually felt like a warm wet blanket you can’t escape, a blanket which feels like its trying to smother you a cool breeze highly unusual welcome in the sticky August heat but unusual.
"Vampires, right?", his head jolted upright his leaping from page, to the dark haired woman who appeared out of nowhere now standing before him. She was certainly dressed for season, a thin cotton dress that was at least four inches above the knee probably more.. Everything about her was sparkling clean, well everything but her shoes which were caked in mud up to her ankles. They were so encrusted in mud, it was impossible to tell what type of shoes they were.
“Well New Orleans is to vampires as Roswell is to Aliens. Anne Rice and all that.”, his eyes soaking in the beauty before him which snares his total attention as his nervous fingers turn the pages as he completely forgets about the book in his lap.
Feeling the pink warmth of embarrassment creep over his face as lowers herself, and her legs spread ever so slightly, he catches sight of her panties, fighting the urge to stare he loses. It isn't till she begins to explain what happened to her does he tare his eyes away from her underwear and what it barely hide. It had been years since he’d seen this much of a woman and the response to his anatomy is predictable. Shifting his legs in a vain attempt to cover his growing hard-on.
How could some guy hurt you, You look like an angel, why are some men such animals?”
Trying his best to look into her eyes but his eyes never make it past her small perky breasts. He becomes transfixed on the perfect orbs even though she wore a bra her titties were outlined in exquisite detail by the thin cotton dress. His eyes mesmerized by the way they rise and fall with her every breath; so transfixed by the sight he never notices that for a woman that had been abused there isn't a mark on her. It isn't until he sees her smile out of the corner of his eye do their eyes finally meet and words spill out of his mouth unconsciously overcompensating for his inappropriate staring.
“I can give you a ride but before we go to far I have to go home and feed my cat. Is that OK? OH, don’t worry about troubling me, knowing you’ll be away from that monster is reward enough. But we better hurry its getting late and I suffer from night-blindness.”
Biting his bottom lip and getting up grasping her arm, looking down toward her cleavage as she raises to her feet he never notices how cold her arm is, his attention is elsewhere. He tucks the book in the front of his pant to leave his hands free and hide his now all to obvious erection.
Let me help you down the slope its quit steep and harder to get down than it is to climb up."
His hands on her around her waist as he backs down carefully watching his footing.
Its a crying shame what your boyfriend did to you. At least vampire stories are fiction but some monsters are real aren't they...", he says in a heavy sigh...
"Vampires, right?", his head jolted upright his leaping from page, to the dark haired woman who appeared out of nowhere now standing before him. She was certainly dressed for season, a thin cotton dress that was at least four inches above the knee probably more.. Everything about her was sparkling clean, well everything but her shoes which were caked in mud up to her ankles. They were so encrusted in mud, it was impossible to tell what type of shoes they were.
“Well New Orleans is to vampires as Roswell is to Aliens. Anne Rice and all that.”, his eyes soaking in the beauty before him which snares his total attention as his nervous fingers turn the pages as he completely forgets about the book in his lap.
Feeling the pink warmth of embarrassment creep over his face as lowers herself, and her legs spread ever so slightly, he catches sight of her panties, fighting the urge to stare he loses. It isn't till she begins to explain what happened to her does he tare his eyes away from her underwear and what it barely hide. It had been years since he’d seen this much of a woman and the response to his anatomy is predictable. Shifting his legs in a vain attempt to cover his growing hard-on.
How could some guy hurt you, You look like an angel, why are some men such animals?”
Trying his best to look into her eyes but his eyes never make it past her small perky breasts. He becomes transfixed on the perfect orbs even though she wore a bra her titties were outlined in exquisite detail by the thin cotton dress. His eyes mesmerized by the way they rise and fall with her every breath; so transfixed by the sight he never notices that for a woman that had been abused there isn't a mark on her. It isn't until he sees her smile out of the corner of his eye do their eyes finally meet and words spill out of his mouth unconsciously overcompensating for his inappropriate staring.
“I can give you a ride but before we go to far I have to go home and feed my cat. Is that OK? OH, don’t worry about troubling me, knowing you’ll be away from that monster is reward enough. But we better hurry its getting late and I suffer from night-blindness.”
Biting his bottom lip and getting up grasping her arm, looking down toward her cleavage as she raises to her feet he never notices how cold her arm is, his attention is elsewhere. He tucks the book in the front of his pant to leave his hands free and hide his now all to obvious erection.
Let me help you down the slope its quit steep and harder to get down than it is to climb up."
His hands on her around her waist as he backs down carefully watching his footing.
Its a crying shame what your boyfriend did to you. At least vampire stories are fiction but some monsters are real aren't they...", he says in a heavy sigh...
Last edited:
AmyRoberts
Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2016
- Posts
- 386
Deleted.
Last edited:
Rick345
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 7, 2008
- Posts
- 1,692
“Well, I suppose Baxter will be OK for one night and I really want to help you, you must be scared out of your wits. You poor thing.”, his voice a quiver of concern talking mostly to himself his eyes on the road the occasional street coming far and few between..
The softness of her body pressing against him was all it took to make Baxter a distant memory. It had been ages since he'd been this close to a woman. Her personality warm and charming, but there was something different about her, she felt cold almost ice cold, like death warmed over.
“One night with you, I’d like that, I’d like that a lot, Jules...”, glancing over flashing a quick smile...
His thoughts and feelings distracting him from the obvious question, "Where up north do you want to go?"
Being alone with this ravishingly beautiful creature he had more on his mind than a simple road trip.
The softness of her body pressing against him was all it took to make Baxter a distant memory. It had been ages since he'd been this close to a woman. Her personality warm and charming, but there was something different about her, she felt cold almost ice cold, like death warmed over.
“One night with you, I’d like that, I’d like that a lot, Jules...”, glancing over flashing a quick smile...
His thoughts and feelings distracting him from the obvious question, "Where up north do you want to go?"
Being alone with this ravishingly beautiful creature he had more on his mind than a simple road trip.
Last edited:
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