18 May 2014

Someplace Pretty

The last person Daryl Dixon expected to see when he walked into the Leaking Pipe was his boss’s daughter. There she was, Beth Greene, sitting at the bar like she’d been drinking in the worst dive in the county for years. She was nursing a virgin Coke and wearing a denim miniskirt with a tight pink tank with spaghetti straps. He could see from across the room she wasn’t wearing a bra. Every hillbilly pair of eyes in the joint were glued to her. She didn’t have long before one of the assholes in the dive made a move and went too far.

“Beth, what the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Oh, there you are. I was looking for you,” she said brightly.

Good Lord, she was oblivious to the danger she’d put herself in. Well, Daryl wasn’t. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the bar stool. Catcalls followed them as they left the bar and Daryl all but dragged her over to his bike.

“What?” he asked.


He heaved an impatient sigh. “You said you was lookin’ for me. What do you want?”

“To hang out with you. You said you like this place. I mean, I wasn’t going to drink or anything--”

“Get on the bike,” he said.


“Just get on.”

“I’m not going home,” she said, backing up a few paces. “I’m eighteen years old. I don’t have a curfew and I can choose who I want to hang with.”

Daryl got on the bike, started it up, and nodded for her to get on.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you want to go?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Someplace pretty.”

He snorted. “I don’t have someplace pretty to take you. Just get on.”

“I swear, Daryl, if you try to make me go home--”

“You’re starting to piss me off. Get on.”

“Fine,” she huffed, and climbed on behind him.

At once she realized he wasn’t taking her home. Were he planning to do that he would have turned south. Instead he turned north. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his strong back and the smell of the shampoo he’d washed his hair in.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far from here,” he said.

A couple of minutes later he turned onto a dirt road that led back into some dense trees. The long driveway led to a secluded trailer that had seen better days. There was a broken down old pickup on blocks further back.

Daryl got off the bike and headed up to the trailer without a word. Beth followed and was let into a home that was a lot cleaner and neater than she’d expected. Daryl looked rough but he knew how to keep house.

“Well, here we are. You ready to do this thing?” he said.

“Do what thing?”

He laughed, somewhat derisively, took her hand, and led her along a narrow hall toward the bedroom at the back of the trailer. Inside was a full size bed covered with careworn sheets and an old quilt. He shut the door behind her and flipped on the light switch. A lamp lit up beside the bed, while a ceiling fan came on and began to stir the stuffy air.

“This is why you’re here, ain’t it?” he said, pulling off his shirt.

Beth’s heart was pounding. She had hoped to get some touch from Daryl, but not this much, this fast.

“You think you’re the first rich bitch to take a shine to me? Hell, girl, this has been going on for years. Probably as long as you’ve been alive. You’re all the same. You throw yourselves at me so I’ll bring you back here and you can get the experience of fucking a poor white trash boy in his trailer. Then you leave and I never see you again.”

He shrugged. He saw the look of alarm in her eyes turn to anger.

“First, I’m not rich. My daddy's got a few dollars, but he ain't rich either. Second, I’m not a bitch. I’m a nice person. I thought you’d be a cool guy to hang around. I thought maybe you could teach me a thing or two about motorcycles and how to fix stuff. Then I thought maybe you’d start to like me and we could, someday, you know…but you’re just an asshole, Daryl.”

“No arguments there,” he said. “So you gonna cry now? You want me to drive you home on my bike so you can run and tell your daddy what an asshole I am? Then he can fire me--”

“You know what? Let’s do this thing,” she said, angry enough to want to throw his words back in his face, and, frankly, horny enough to want to do it.


“I ain’t had any dick since I broke up with Jimmy. No, wait, it was Simon, the last time. Who cares? Jimmy turned out to be gay, which is why he only fucked me once. They both had little dicks and couldn’t hold out longer than thirty seconds. But that’s a teenage boy for you, right? I’ll bet you’ve got a big dick and lots of staying power.”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” he shot back.

Beth pulled off her thin tank, showing him that he was right--she wasn’t wearing a bra--and then pulled her panties down before kicking them off. She threw herself into his arms and began tongue kissing him. He meant to shove her away. He honestly did. Yet he didn’t quite manage it. Rather than pushing her away, he only succeeded in picking her up and throwing her onto the bed.

“I’m wet. I’m so wet,” she teased. She spread her legs wide and he moaned at the sight of her.

“You’re a real blond,” he noticed, as he unzipped his jeans.

“Fuck me. Give the rich bitch what she wants.”

He yanked a condom from his wallet, put it on, and then spread her legs before pulling her up to him. He positioned the head of his dick at her entrance and pushed in, slowly, eliciting a long moan from both her and himself.

“Fuck!” he gasped, before he began thrusting.

He’d bragged about stamina, but he almost proved himself a liar when he nearly lost it by watching her perky titties bounce with each thrust. Her whimpers and gasps were genuine, not faked. Hers was the wettest pussy he’d ever had. He repositioned her, turning her over and then lying her flat before he began pounding into her with all he had. She came first, and hard, on a scream loud enough to wake the dead. The feel of her orgasm drove him over the edge and he came damn near hard enough to black out.

When it was over he lay next to her. She remained on her belly but watched him with an annoying smirk.

“It’s one a.m.”

“I thought you didn’t have a curfew,” he said.

“I don’t, but I do want that motorcycle ride.”

He reached over and flicked out the lamp. He was dead tired. “Tomorrow.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said. He was fading fast. “I’ll take you someplace pretty.”

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