Cherry Bomb |H.S|

Chapter 1.

-Groovy Fest, Oregon. 1972-

MARY JANE MILLER

"You know what, for such a small space; you do know how to get my flares off quickly" our lips come apart as he watches me speak. My Cherry red lipstick all over his lips as he smiles down at me.

"You do a lot of talking, Cherry lips" his voice is low but full of mischief as he speaks. It's like laying out on the beach, or popping your first club drug after awhile. Warm and addicting.

"You do a lot of looking at my lips, dork" my fingers come up to his lips to smear my lipstick around them more, his eyes filled with playfulness and lust — or he's just jacked out of it on club drugs.

"Can't not, look like two cherry bombs on your pretty face" he teases as I roll my eyes taking the sunflower shaped blue glasses from his face.

"Groovy, how long were you keeping that one in for?" I ask sliding the frames onto my face as I stare up at him hovering over me in the back of his shaggin' wagon.

"Dork. C'mere cherry lips" his laugh is soft before I reach my head up and connect our lips again. It's messy and sloppy but it's what we both need right now. The drugs are intensifying every feeling, kissing feels like mini orgasms and actual orgasms are like winning the bingo — heavenly.

"I should be buggin' out right now, but those little star lights on your ceiling are really helping me not think you're going to kill me" my voice comes out in pants as he kisses down my neck, our hips grinding as his denims rub against my panties.

"Sunshine, I really need you to let me love on you, I love your voice but it's taking all your energy" his laugh is full of pants also, his head now near mine as he smiles down at me.

"M'sorry Mister Cherry Bomb, I'll be quiet" my laughs are hard to contain as I watch him laugh shaking his head, his chocolate brown curls bouncing on his head.

"Dork" he mumbles before connecting our lips again, his hands running down my chest, slowly unbuttoning my flared button up blindly — oh so he's good good at sex. Noted.

He helps me sit up, our lips never leaving each other's as we both take off my button up, it gets discarded god knows where but I don't care right now.

My hands roam up his chest, slipping my fingers under his brown and green sleeveless knitted vest he was sporting all tonight, nothing underneath — how scandalous.

He groans into my mouth when I tug on his chain, pulling him back down with me as my head hits the pillow again. I pull apart, dipping my head down to run my tongue along his salty tasting neck, sweat and beer coating his skin from his performance and the party backstage afterwards. He grinds his hips more into mine as I suck on his neck, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he cradles my head in one hand and supporting himself on the other.

"Sweets, I need to take off my denims" his voice is husky and low, dripping with need and lust as his fingers bury into my hair, thick strands wrapped around each finger which has their own coloured ring. I pull away, his hand dropping from my hair as he leans up on his knees looking down at me as he unbuttons his denims with a smirk.

I bite my lip, tasting the beer, sweat and lipstick on them as I lay before him in only my bra and panties, my fingers dancing along the skin of my tummy as I wait for him. He eventually pulls of his tight fitted flared denims, tossing his vest off too leaving him in only a pair of bright yellow floral pattern underwear.

"I like your jockies" my laugh is quiet but evident as he laughs along with me, looking down at the tight fitted jocks that stick to his skin, that's why his bum looked so good — he had no visible panty lines and I wondered how. Now I know.