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*Note – this is a chapter in the Fiona Files. These stores can be considered semi-autobiographical fiction, or just fiction. In these stories I will talk about Johnny and Fiona. Johnny is always the same person, mostly me. The Fiona Files is Johnny’s journey. The character of Fiona is a mash of women, real and imagined. Enjoy. Please let me know if you have enjoyed my stories.
The Fiona Files II – String of Days
I met Fiona when she blew through a red light and I broadsided her Alpha. I was able to kick the bumper of my truck back into place but her Alpha was now an organ donor. When the tow rig left she looked at me and said, “Alpha’s fucked”. When I asked if I could drop her somewhere she swung her pack into my truck and said, “your place”. To say Fiona was quiet would be an understatement. She was nearly mute. But from the moment she slammed the door of my truck I knew that we would be together. Not that I wished we would be together – I knew we would be together. That much I was sure of. The rest was a surprise.
I stole glances at her in those first minutes. She had boyish hair, a little long and swept to the right, parted on the left. Not much tit that I could see. Her legs were shaved, brown and strong, she wore cutoffs, longer than a girl would wear and a dirty tour tee shirt. She caught me looking and I swerved to get back in the lane, Fiona looked back me without expression and pushed a Dylan CD into the dash. After a while she settled into the corner of the seat, tucked her leg up, rested her chin on her knee and took a long time checking me out.
“Your name?” she said finally.
“‘cuse me?”, swerve.
A laugh. “Your name. What’s your name?”, her chin still on her knee.
I took another look. She had pool deep brown eyes I don’t think she cared if she blinked or not.
“Johnny. John. Johnny.” I said like I had to recall my own name, the color rose in my face.
“Fiona.” She said.
“Fiona, my name, call me Fio.”
In all time I knew Fiona she never asked for money. I never saw her use a phone. Never saw a check book or a credit card. I didn’t root through her bag or go through her pockets. I didn’t ask questions. I took every day as it came. I took every day with her as a gift.
When we got back to the house Yeller greeted her like she’d been gone for weeks. My usually stand offish best friend had just adopted a new master. While I cooked a diner Fiona alternately flopped and paced, Yeller at her heels or watching her the whole time. We ate and drank without a word, Fiona cleaned up. I put up my lunch for the morning and got into the shower.
I was face to the spray when the curtain pulled back and Fiona stepped in with me. I turned to look at her but she twisted my shoulders back and began to wash me. She started with my hair, moved to my chest and belly, then washed my erection. I was standing legs spread, arms up and out bracing myself. Fiona, soaped my cock and balls and then started on the crack of my ass. She washed me up and down and with a finger, washed me inside too. We still had not spoken since we had eaten, or at least Fio hadn’t. Fiona turned me and we kissed and embraced. I never once thought that I should say anything, I waited for her to speak and if she didn’t, I figured we were good.
Now I washed Fiona. She melted into me. I pressed my iron against her hot buttock and washed her hair. I felt the shape of her skull in my hands, felt her face relax and the grace of her neck. I soaped her muscled shoulders and with both hands washed her little tits. Fio pushed herself harder against me and my cock stood upright between her cheeks. I soaped her belly and then probed her sex. The wetness of the shower met with the slickness of her juices and I finger fucked her to climax. When she was done she reached between her legs and guided me home, bending at the waist to take my cock until we were as close as two people can be. We moved together in silence, the water spraying over her back, the rivulets finding the channels of her spine and ribs and then running down her honey colored moons. When she was ready for me she reached around and clamped a hand on my ass cheek and jerked her body against me until I came and came hard. I could feel myself burst and pump deep into her. I held Fio around the waist with both hands, pulled her up onto her toes and tried to bury my cock deep until the burning stopped.
Fio turned and kissed me. She locked onto me with her almond eyes, “Johnny? Do you believe what they say, that if you save a life, that you then take responsibility for that life?”
I turned the water off and pushed her hair back. There was nothing remarkable canlı bahis about her face, it was almost bland, unfinished, but it had a perfect symmetry and balance, it was a face you could spend a lifetime painting and would always want to look upon one more time. “Yeah, I guess I do. Yeah.” I said. But even as I answered, the question rang in my head; whose life has been saved?
Fiona pecked me on the lips pinched me, “I’m going to need some clothes.”
Next morning I packed up and headed out to the truck. Fiona followed me onto the porch, Yeller along side. I threw a ladder on the rack and lashed it down.
“Hey Johnny.” Fio called.
“Did I forget to say thanks?” she asked taking a seat on the step.
I looked at her then, forearms resting on her knees, coffee steam blowing east and wondered how to answer that. Yeller and I had been living alone for years. I had really given up on chasing women and was concentrating on learning about myself and becoming comfortable in my skin. I read books, Jack London, Conrad, Toni Morrison, all kinds of stuff. I’d done allot of drugs, had fast friends, slept with friends of friends. Now I was banging nails and living by the river. I looked at this woman sitting on my stoop that my dog seemed to know the moment he met her. A woman who really didn’t need to speak. I mean it was strange. She just didn’t need to chatter and comment on useless things. She had no external dialog, none at all, I could be in the room with her not feel the need to fill the space with noise.
I reached into the truck and tossed her a set of keys.
“What are these?” she asked finger sorting them.
“To the Datsun.”
“That?” she said pointing to the ’73 B210 under the maple.
“Does it run?”
“Yeah it runs. Good car. No AC. Just don’t blow through any red lights.” I said from the door of the truck.
“I’ll be home a little after five.” I turned the key and brought the truck to life.
“Hey Johnny!” She yelled over the engine noise, then trotted over to the truck.
“Hey, Johnny! Thanks.” she said
“Now you’ve thanked me.” I threw the rig in gear and headed down the road with a smile and hard-on.
“No. Thank you Fio.” I said to myself.
Fiona pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it on the rail of the wagon and leaned back on open palms. Her hair was longer now than when we’d met and she wore it tied back, if anything it made her look more boyish. I liked that about her, her boyish looks, her slim hips and her little breasts. But while she may have had boyish looks; if you put her in a short skirt and and a tank top, you could watch the women watch their men. Fiona was attractive and possessed a nonchalance that caused men to do things to get her attention. Months of working in the woodlot and gardens and toughened her hands. Her skin, that was honey colored when she crashed into my life was now bronzed and freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. Fiona was still quiet but in our months together she had become relaxed, playful and affectionate.
The light of the burn pile played across her bare shoulders and erect nipples. The fire highlighted the plains of her face and cast it half in shadow. Her eyes were dark pools that flashed amber. I stood between her legs and worked to button of her shorts. Fio pressed warm course hands hard against my stomach and roughly inspected my ribs, chest, shoulders and arms. I tensed my body as she made her way. When she squeezed a muscle I flexed it. I liked her hands on me and I wanted my body to please her. She opened my jeans, pushed them down, then laid back and shucked off her shorts.
On my knees now I pushed my face into her pussy. I inhaled deeply through my nose and dug my toes into the cool earth. The two of us were dirty and sweaty. Fio’s pussy smelled of urine and musk. I parted her damp hair and dug my tongue into her sweet clean folds. I knew how she liked to eaten. She had shown me. “Here” she would say placing a finger on the spot to lick. “Here” she would say reaching for her g-spot. I took my time. I enjoyed the dirty, tangy scent of her sex and labor. I enjoyed having my tongue in her, of gently pulling her clit between my lips. I took my time so that I could look up at her in the shifting light of the fire. So I could watch the rise and fall of her belly as she breathed. I ran my tongue over the sensitive parts of her sex and watched her ribs rise as she arched her back. I drew out her sweet juices and smelled the piss in her hair and watched her twist her graceful neck and chin and saw the fire glint off a single tooth from her open mouth. When she came she kicked hard against my shoulders, bahis siteleri rolled her hips up and invited me to push hard and lick deeply into her snatch. Fio’s juices flowed heavy now, thick and sweet. I drew her honey out with my tongue time and again until she relaxed and her breathing slowed. She held my one hand against her belly and with the other I pulled on my cock. I held it tightly and moved the skin up and back in a frenzy until my hot seed exploded into the cool night air. We stayed like that for a for a long time, Fiona on her back and me with my mouth on her sex, stroking my cock and fondling my balls. I could see that Fiona’s eyes were open and that she was watching the sparks from the fire as they rose into the night sky and died.
It was a Saturday morning. I wandered out of bed and found Fio drinking coffee and reading a book, she was in her running clothes.
“Burnt Pond?” she asked putting her book aside. No good morning or anything, just right to the question.
“Burnt Pond it is.” I replied reaching for the coffee grinder.
“Coffee’s made.” she said without looking up.
“Okay.” I reached for a bagel and the knife.
“Bagel’s all set and packed.”
“Okay. Should I brush my teeth or is that set too?” I asked.
“Funny. We can take my car.”
“Your car? You mean the Datsun?” I was starting to wake up now and sipping coffee from the thermal mug.
“Yeah.” she said with a crooked smile, the brown eyes flashed and narrowed. She was obviously way more awake than me. She waited for my reply but somehow I knew better.
Burnt Pond was our favorite spot. It had always been mine and now it was ours. Fio had indeed packed us up for the day. Yeller knew where we were going by the gear that was packed and whined and moaned the whole way to the trail head. Fio parked the Datsun under a tree and we unpacked amid the pickup trucks and Audi’s that had carried the mountain bikers to these woods.
The Burnt Pond run was where I had introduced Fio to trail running. She had obviously run roads and probably cross country, but never trails. She took to it and excelled. We shucked on our light packs and started running. Fio and Yeller took the lead. The first 2.5 miles is a climb. Never steep, but steady. I followed Fio’s bouncing form. Her pony tail switched back and forth across her shoulders and she held her head steady. Fio was a natural on the the trails, she read the terrain and picked a clean line. She had fast feet and kept them moving, dancing through the rock gardens and exposed roots. As we ran we picked off the mountain bikers one by one. There is nothing sweeter than seeing a big tough mountain biker being passed by a girl on foot. These guys would always stop when she passed and watch her go on. I would say something like, “Hey man, great day huh?” But inside I would be bursting with pride. I know the guys she passed would be thinking of Fio and telling stories for days. Fiona was ripped, beautiful square shoulders with deeply cut muscle definition. Any guy watching her attack an up-hill would see her chin pointed up the hill, fists and knees driving and abs hard and flat as a plate. I knew that on Monday they would be telling their friends about the chick that passed them on the trail.
Yeller hit the pond at full speed, took a couple turns then exploded out of the water and shook himself. If dogs smile, he was smiling. The nine miles to the pond passed in no time, the day was perfect, late summer, not a cloud, warm and windless. Burnt Pond is a small high lake with exposed rock all around and views in every direction. In the center is an island with a pine stand that survived the fire that had exposed the rock on the shore. We stowed our gear in a dry sack that I tied around my waist and we swam naked to the island.
On the island we sat on the rocks in the sun and ate our lunch in silence. When we finished we moved under the cover of the pines and made love on a small blanket we had laid on the soft forest floor.
I never took Fiona for granted, never treated her as just a punch. Her love was gift. I didn’t know why it was given to me and I didn’t know where it came from. When we made love that day I had so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to kiss her forever. I wanted my kisses to tell her things and not just be the thing you do before you actually fuck. I wanted to kiss her until she knew my thoughts. When I went down on her I imagined myself playing a song for her, I had rhythm and melody and tried to play through her and to reach her. When we were together and I was inside her I wanted to crawl inside and plant my thoughts in her womb.
Fiona sensed my need and responded by loving me in bahis şirketleri a nurturing way. She opened her self to me, she pulled me in with her arms and wrapped her legs around me. Fio kissed my neck and comforted me. Fiona lay on her back and spread her legs wide. Her pussy was slick and swollen. She took the head of my cock and guided it into her warmth then pulled me in deeply. In my head I could hear her say, “Come inside, be with me, we are one. This is sanctuary.”
Our lovemaking beneath the pines that day was sweet and kind and melancholy. Our bodies were strong from running and each of us passed that strength to the other.
We were through we lay on our backs holding hands.
“Where were you going on the day of the crash?” I asked.
There was a long pause.
“I never made it.” she said giving my hand a squeeze.
“Where were you coming from?” I tried another tactic.
“Someplace dark.” she said. Her hand went soft and I could feel a stillness come over her.
“Help me out here Fio, I never asked and I need to know.”
Fio threw a leg over and sat astride me. Her knees were by my ribs, her hands on my shoulders.
“Why do you think I got in the truck with you that day Johnny?”
“I don’t know Fio, I honestly don’t know.” I was suddenly very tried and a little sad that I had finally asked.
She looked down at me with warm brown eyes, “Because you didn’t care that I did. You weren’t trying to get over on me, you gave off no vibe. You were nice.”
“Oh great, so now I’m nice.” no one likes to be a nice guy. Dangerous maybe, but not nice.
“And you have a world class ass.” she said giving me a little punch.
“World class? Really? You have a world class ass my friend, not me.”
“No Johnny, I have GREAT ass. Yours in world class. And you have no idea and that’s why I got in the truck.”
“Okay.” I said and then waited. Fio was talking now and I needed her to continue.
“Do you know that you don’t have a calendar in your house?” the brown eyes were burning me now.
“Yeah I do…”
“No Johnny. Not one. Where I was coming from there was one in every room. There were calendars everywhere. Every day of my life was planned for months and years in advance. I felt like I was being held under water, that if I opened my mouth I would drown. The day you smashed into me I was going from the dark to the light. In your house one day just leads to the next and I don’t feel shut in. You don’t make plans for me Johnny. You don’t try to make me be you or something you need me to be for you. You have no idea what that means to me.”
“What are we doing Fio?”
“We’re talking Johnny.” she said with a little smile.
“No, we, us. What are we doing. One day I am living down by the river and the next day – Fiona. Are we Johnny and Fio? Or are we John? And Fiona?” My hands were on her knees and I held them waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know Johnny. Sometimes a life is a just a life. Some are planned like mine was and some are not. Johnny, can’t a life just be a string of days? A life where every day you decide what your life will be? I love you Johnny. Today I think our life is together, but I’m not planning. I sometimes think we might be waypoints. But it might turn out that we are destinations. You want me Johnny. And I want to be wanted, but you don’t need me.”
“Wow. I don’t need you?” I responded, “Maybe I do. Maybe my life is better than it was before you. Maybe I didn’t need you before I knew you but now I do.” We were sitting now, legs twined together.
“What the fuck Fio.”
“Johnny. You don’t need anyone. You’re whole. Another reason I got in the truck. You weren’t looking for missing pieces of yourself that you might get off of me. I want to be whole, like you, but I haven’t been at it as long as you have.”
We sat for a long time then, naked in the woods, souls bare, leaning against each other, looking out through the pines at the water, the shore beyond and mountains beyond that. Maybe life could be a string of days. Maybe you just start walking and everyday you wake in a new place, look at new mountains and deal with that day. Then you walk some more. A string of days. Life made up as you go along. Was that how I had been living my life? One thing I felt sure of was that I would know Fiona my whole life. That even if we were waypoints, she would be in my life. I believed that Fiona had Fallen and that each of our lives had meaning to the other.
Fio’s cheek was soft and warm against my shoulder, she gripped my bicep with both hands, she was so still she could have been sleeping.
“I love you Fio.”
“I love you Johnny.”
“String of days?”
“String of days.”
“You know I’m going to kick your ass on the run home right?”
“I know you’ll try Johnny.”
“I have a hard-on.”
“I can help with that.”
“String of days.”
“String of days.”
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