I hope you guys like this story. I will not be uploading the other chapters until I get some feedback. This is unlike anything that's out there Richonne wise. Enjoy!
This story isn't mine, it comes from Literotica, I've literally just changed the characters' names and edited it. If that offends you then fuck off. If you want to read the original story, you can do so here: www. literotica / s / aint-budging
The year was 1974. Rick Grimes, like an arrow against the wind, tilted his Harley chopper towards the approaching bend, watching more of the Sonora desert, wildly greened with cactus bushes, roughed up with rocks, come hurtling towards him. Air frantically combed his shoulder length black hair, beard, and glided smoothly across the chrome plating of his Harley chopper. The growl of his engine bit the streaming breeze, orchestrating a raw music of speed. Man and machine pummeled with reckless abandon across the tarmac plain. Savoring the feeling, the rush, from behind the shadow of the Ray-Bans, he saw ahead of him the silhouette of a hitchhiker on the other side of the road.
Well she ain't wearing much. Must be something crazy to stick her thumb out in that slutty get up, Rick mused. keeping a forward eye on the road and a glance on the side mirror.
The silhouette had rapidly developed into the more acute form of a young black woman sporting an . Rick smiled at her attire; she was clad in a leopard-print jumpsuit and white go-go boots. Her only real possession seemed to be a small suede satchel that rested on her hip. The woman had her thumb stuck out despairingly in an attempt to hitchhike in his dangerous and isolated neck of the woods. Rick wondered if the lone lady hitchhiker had some hankering for a hurting, particularly being a Negro woman in unfriendly parts of the country. He slowed down as he passed the chick who caught his eye just as he caught hers, thinking for a split second that he could ask her what her deal was. However, just as he was about to slow and flip lanes, an unmarked truck approached and stopped beside her.
Conscious that there was no other traffic on the road, he slowed to a crawl and watched the side mirrors as a rotund trucker in a dirty grey t-shirt got out of the truck and leapt on top of the chick, squashing her with his considerable heft, ultimately causing a mushroom cloud of red dust to envelop them.
Rick felt a glorious shot of adrenaline flare through his torso; figuring he could make the trucker squeal like a pig on a Sunday and make himself feel heroic to boot, he decided to involve himself. Plus, telling the story later would be just the thing to warm up a conversation after a few beers with his biker brethren. Rick dipped his feet to the ground and spun the bike round before hurtling towards the assailant. Just as he closed in, he saw the assailant scrabble up in pain and yelp.
He stopped the bike and got up, breaking out in laughter when he saw what the Black chick had done: she had stabbed the trucker in the upper thigh with her comb. The trucker howled in pain and staggered towards the chick, who was now running delicately in the opposite direction, restricted in speed by her impractically high go-go boots. Rick ran towards the trucker and roughly kicked the guy in the back of the legs.
The trucker fell and Rick snarled as the trucker began to scream. "What the fuck man! Stop hitting me, dude, look at her, she's easy, she's just a nigger – arrrrrgh!"
The chick, turned round and hurried back in the direction of the commotion, looking at Rick with wholehearted admiration as he repeatedly planted his steel-toed cowboy boots into the trucker's most sensitive parts.
She then loomed over the trucker, her comb still firmly implanted in his thigh and yelled angrily, "Fuck you, you rapist piece of shit. You're lucky I don't go stick my comb in your baby maker like you deserve you motherfucker." She kicked the trucker's nuts with her go-go boots.
The trucker gurgled, "My brother-in-law is the county sheriff- if you kill me-"
Rick hit the guy hard across the face with his fist and knocked him out cold.
Rick chuckled jokingly, "Come on, Pam Grier. Let's go and don't forget your comb."
The chick ran over delicately and pulled the comb from out of her assailant, who groaned in response. "I wouldn't want to leave evidence. I hope we haven't killed him."
Rick shrugged and mounted his motorbike. "His nose is twitching so I'm guessing he's alive, all that matters. Get on the back and hold on tight."
'Okay."
Rick revved up and nudged his Ray-Bans up his nose, feeling the girl tighten her grip around his waist. He liked this feeling. It reminded him of quick one night stands with girls he'd met when he was out at nights at the biker bar with his bros, playing it cool with the mammas who wanted in with any outlaw bikers. He smiled to himself, sweet orgasmic memories of sluts of yore flooding back.
He turned the bike round to head on back home to his little shack in the woods. "Hang on tight now."
"Where are you taking me, hey, what are all these on your clothes? Tell me that is not a swastika painted on your jack-"
The bike spurted into action as she shrieked in horror at the insignia on his clothes, her shrieks intermingled with his raucous laughter. Soon she was shrieking in horror at his laughter and he was laughing at the horror of her shrieks. She had her arms wrapped tight around him, both out of fear of being flung onto the road and fear of her eventual destination.
"The swastikas aren't all that serious; they're just to show that we don't give a fuck what society thinks. Have a beer."
The woman saw the biker glance at her wearily. He cracked open his fridge, minding the strange green splodge that had merged with the door handle, picked a bottle and tossed one to her. She caught it like she was catching for her life, and doing a terrible job of it. She had always been the last kid to be picked for school teams and her skills had not blossomed with the years. The dude looked at her, his bright blue eyes twinkling, and grinned. Despite herself, she couldn't help admiring him, if only on a physical level. The biker was statuesque in his slightly flared denim trousers and cowboy boots. He was a handsome man, long curly hair and all.
Michonne allowed her gaze to appraise his home, which was coated in Confederate flags and miniatures of bikes. Then there was his knife and gun collection just above his television set. On his coffee table was a strew of bikers magazines and porno magazines. Then she set her eyes on the pièce de résistance: a poster with blackface caricatures embellished with the words, 'All Coons Look Alike To Me!'. Her eyes nearly watered. She suddenly felt like she was having lunch with a crocodile.
The biker must have seen her gaze at the poster, her eyes wide, her mouth hung open. "You keep staring with your eyes so white and yo' mouth so wide and you're gonna start looking like one of them." He grunted as he pointed to one of the caricatures and took a swig of beer.
Michonne looked at him in shock as he assessed her, sublimely unrepentant for the cruelty of his words.
Her anger got the better of her and she got up and put her hands on her hips. "What the hell? Whatever I may be, you baby, are at least a dozen kinds of gross. I'd rather be squashed by a horny trucker than listen to this shit. Sayonara, pal."
Michonne could only see red and didn't see the biker get up and roughly pick her up, swinging her over his shoulder, and then back down on the sofa in what must have been a blur. She bounced on the sofa for a while, frozen in shock.
Michonne's hands gripped the edge of the sofa, and she swallowed. She looked at him wide-eyed and concerned.
His face was cold, sinister, and without expression as he said evenly, "You don't like what I say, or what I like, whatever. But if you think I'm gonna let you get your ass raped and killed hitchhiking, dressed like some floozy, then you've got another think coming. It's late and the closest interstate station is twenty miles from here, so I will gladly deposit you there tomorrow, but not tonight as I got some plans. Personally, I want to know what kind of girl is stupid enough to hitchhike dressed in go-go boots! So baby, enlighten me why don't you?"
Michonne raised an eyebrow before relaxing into the sofa, and reluctantly sipping the cool beer. She crossed her legs, "Enlighten you? That's a tall order, and if the Lord couldn't help Neanderthal Man, I sure as hell can't do the same for you."
Michonne saw the flash of anger in his eyes, but then he chuckled and stretched his manly physique across his arm chair. "You are a bitch with some nerve. Look, just tell me what makes a Negro chick dressed so... Sparingly take to hitchhiking in the Arizona desert? I got to say, can't blame a guy for being curious and all."
Michonne pouted a little and then began her story, "Well..."
Rick never knew what was going on with his mind. the Vietnam War had sapped him a little of his capacity to control himself, but one thing he did know was that even when his mind was a mystery unto itself, his body could tell him stuff about himself that he didn't even know.
He didn't know he liked disco chicks, Negro chicks, or ditzy chicks who could defend themselves armed with nothing but a comb.
His eyes kept wandering down to her lips, the delicious swells of her perky titts, her slim waist, and would finally settle on the very tops her exposed chocolate-brown thighs before some word she would say would catch his attention so that he was forced to stare into her almost almond-shaped brown eyes. The way his eyes were going, he knew that he craved something of her, but he didn't know why because he had never been with a Black girl before.
Then there was his cock, which seemed to have a hankering for the way her nipples were so clearly imprinted against her indecently tight suit, and the way she spoke, her open expression, her gestures and her ... For some reason, he really dug it. She had a sunny cuteness about her. He hadn't seen sunny cuteness up his neck of the woods for quite some time. His cock had gently swelled just from watching her. Despite himself, she was a little sexy.
"Hello Rick... I'm telling you my story, but you're... Staring."
Rick watched her squeeze her thighs together as if that was meant to deter him from looking at her cocoa-brown pins, he grunted and slurped beer.
"Naw I'm just thinking."
Michonne shook her head slowly, "I don't think so, you're not listening to me."
Rick watched her shift in her seat, but then he noticed that she was staring at him in exactly the same way, more subtly, but her eyes went from his lips, to his torso, to his crotch - they were really lingering at his crotch.
"Yeah so anyway, after I French kissed the lap dancer, my boyfriend said-"
Rick suddenly became animated and snapped back to attention, "Woah woah woah! You French kissed a lap dancer, a lady? What did she look like?"
Michonne snapped her head back and laughed wickedly, "Sorry, just checking where your attention was at... There was no stripper."
Rick smiled, resting his hands between his legs and leaned forward, "Okay, well uh, play it back a bit, so what really happened?"
Michonne shrugged, "I dumped my boyfriend in the van on the way back from New Orleans - you know, Mardi Gras - so he literally dumped me. He opened the door, shoved me out, sped off. What a low brother."
Rick nodded, that explained her choice of dress, and odd hitchhiking location.
"Why did you dump him?" He asked.
She placed the bottle down and twisted a finger round an curl, "You really want to know?"
He nodded.
"I told him that there was more to love making than missionary position. He didn't like that. He calls the joys of sex a feminist conspiracy."
Rick roared with laughter and slammed his bottle of beer down.
His eyes twinkled, he said in a low rough growl. "So, what was it that happened in the van that made it seem like the perfect moment to dump him?"
Michonne yawned and shrugged evasively, "Not much...gosh, I am ever so tired, can I sleep on your sofa a little?"
Rick shook his head. "You can sleep on my bed while I'm gone out with the brothers tonight, I'll give you a t-shirt if you like and a bandanna for your hair. I'll be back later though, so I'll want my bed back then if that suits you okay."
Michonne looked grateful for the second time since metting him. "Thanks Rick, that's really considerate of you to give me a bandana for my hair. Can I use your shower and all that too? Do you have a spare towel?"
Rick nodded. "Sure sure... If you don't mind using the hand towel to dry down, its kinda clean. I won't be perving, I'll be going out soon."
She nodded and got up, "Thanks and... I appreciate your hospitality. I guess it can't come natural to you." She indicated the poster and the flags.
Rick watched the chick smile, really smile and God was her smile hot; it was lightning to his cock. He smiled back, winked and drew his Ray-Bans back on from the inside pocket of his jacket. If only she knew how natural helping her had felt, a little too natural for his own liking. He would talk to his friends about this; he bet anything they would be able to offer some good advice.
"A foxy Black chick? I'd fuck her." Abraham scratched his Adam's apple deep in thought.
Rick, taking another shot at the old tin can on the fence with his pump gun. "I ain't offering her to you to fuck her, if I recall, I was just telling you she was my house guest, so if you bumped into her over the next few days, play nice. I know you guys aren't the most tolerant."
Daryl gunned a tin can down and added less-than-helpfully, "Not like you're gonna marry her and take her back to your pops to meet, we just gonna screw her. Hey, you know Rick, if you fuck Negro, Latina, and Asian girl three days in a row, you get a free beer on Sunday nights at the bar for at least eighteen months. How great is that? Besides, I thought you said she was only staying 'til tomorrow morning?"
Rick exhaled, "Yeah well, I might be too busy to take her back tomorrow morning, spoke to Glenn before I came across you guys and he's not going to be able to open up the chopper shop tomorrow morning, wants me to do it. He's got some guys coming in from Phoenix, they all want to custom paint their bikes with their colors, they got some new patch wearers too who want their forks swapped. Glenn promised me a little something extra if I cover for him. Hey, you got a light?"
Glenn was an honorary member and Vietnam War vet. Rick had introduced them to the rest of the gang as the best bike mechanic there was. They didn't believe until they realized that his shop was neutral ground.
Abraham threw his lighter at Rick. He then drew out his cigarette and lit it up. "I might have to take her back in the evening."
Daryl chuckled, "You said she might be staying for a few days, bro, she really must be a foxy chick if you're this sweet on her. If she's still here tomorrow, bring her to the bar. Hey, maybe if we all like her, we can share and share alike right?"
Rick said nothing, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke to the air. "I dunno 'bout that man."
The two other guys looked at Rick and then shared knowing glances at each other, before resuming their pot shots of the tin cans that were precariously balanced on the decrepit rotten wood fence.
Michonne was disturbed by his disheveled house, the racist poster, and the kitchen - the kitchen which seemed to have been over-run by an invasion of fungi and unwashed pots. She couldn't take it anymore. So, she cleaned it all up. She threw away the 'coon' poster because it just ugly and washed his bongs and neatly placed them in his cupboard. Then there was the porn which had grubby print marks that she placed in a box. She dusted, washed, and scrub-a-dubbed and when she was satisfied with her handiwork, she rested.
Michonne plaited her hair into two French braids that went down to her shoulders, showered and wore the t-shirt Rick had left out for her. She had to admit, wearing his t-shirt felt weirdly... Sexy. It was so large, and she felt honored he had given her the one clean item of clothing in his possession. She washed her panties in the bath and hung them on the rail to dry. She normally slept without panties, so it was no big deal for her. They would be clean and dry for her in the morning.
As she lay in the darkness, she thought of her ex-boyfriend, Mike. He had been an ex-Black-Panther-turned-utter-bore who was scared of everything and anything; she dated him for two months and on a drunken night he had methodologically taken her virginity. Michonne, a commitment-phobe from an untarnished line of unmarried women grimaced. Two months. Why had she even bothered dating at all? No woman in her family had never got a ring nor dime from a man, and she was not about to become arrogant enough to think she could break such a fine tradition.
Life was too short, women were now liberated and she was on the pill. Screw screwing Mike, she was going to get screwed. An image flashed into her mind of Rick standing by the kitchen doorway smiling, handsome and wild.
There is liberated and then there is moronic. The guy's a racist; he's crude, and rough. If you want, you can find yourself a nice leather wearing white man when you get back to San Francisco. Note to self: just make sure he doesn't like other nice leather wearing men.
On that happy thought, Michonne drifted into a delicious sleep.
"Woman, what the hell you gone done to my lounge and kitchen? What the fuck?"
Michonne was roused from sleep by Rick's demanding barks and the hideous glare of the bedroom light.
"Rick, can you turn the light off, I really am very tired. You can thank me for cleaning, yeah that's right, cleaning your abode in the morning."
She opened her eyes to Rick glaring down at her with a real mean look in his eyes, so she turned to sleep on her stomach, but upon doing that he roughly stripped back the duvet making her feel exposed, mainly because she was exposed. She could feel the cool air on her ass cheeks.
"Michonne you should never ever mess with a man's property. There is a lesson in that that you've got to learn."
Michonne gently yanked the t-shirt over her ass cheeks, and too drowsy to make sense of anything groaned, "No, that's not cool, you're kicking me to the sofa?"
She sat up and folded her legs, and looked up at Rick, whose face was stormy with some kind of emotion.
"I'm not kicking you to the sofa, Michonne..."
Rick extended a large hand, Michonne gazed at it, and noticed whilst she was busy gazing that there was a significant bulge in his Levi's.
Rick said nothing. He picked her up swung her round so that as he sat down, she was lying on his lap. She felt his hand casually brush the t-shirt up to her waist as his other hand gently stroked her neck.
"Rick, what are you doing?"
"Teaching you not to mess with my bongs, my porn, and my stuff... You sure have a fine rump on you Senorita."
"Why thanks I-"
An open hand suddenly swatted her bottom hard, leaving a reverberating sting across her sensitive flesh.
"What the hell?" Michonne screamed, now awake and in pain. She tried to squirm, but Rick pinned down by firmly grasping the back of her head. He continued his volley of spanks on her bottom, making it burn.
"This one's for moving my bongs, I like to know where everything is lady!"
He spanked her again.
"This one's for putting my porn in a box, I ain't ashamed of it!"
"This one's for wearing my t-shirt with no panties with your ass hanging out!"
Michonne felt the tingling electric warmth of her now tender bottom rouse her most intimate areas. She tried to wiggle away and cried in exasperation. "Rick you dog, let me go!"
"And this one is because I think you're enjoying this!"
He spanked her one more time.
"Why should I let you go Michonne, when you're enjoying this as much as I am?"
Michonne whimpered, "No I'm not."
Rick playfully countered, "Oh right, so if I touch you here...?"
He then reached below her toned legs and spread them with his hand.
Michonne unconsciously complied by spreading her legs, before whimpering, "No..."
Rick chuckled and began rubbing his white fingers between the moist pink pussy petals that peeked appealingly out of her cocoa outer lips. "That's some kind of no... You're so wet; you like being spanked do you?"
"It's degrading." She whimpered as she gently rocked her pussy against Rick's hand, coating his fingers with her honey.
"Well, sometimes a spring-cleaning Senorita such as yourself needs to be taken down a peg or two." He spanked her ass once more, making her shudder.
Rick idly circled his finger round her swollen pink clit and drawled. "I am going to make you cum so hard that you'll want to spread all that delicious cream up and down my hard white cock." Rick spread her pussy lips roughly with his fingers, allowing the friction to draw her in with tingles of pleasure.
Michonne lewdly rotated her butt-cheeks as she moaned and writhed against Rick's hands. She felt hid spare hand squeeze her ass cheeks, which sent a pleasurable throb to the moist peek of her swollen clit as he continued to massage her clitoris.
"Am I touching you better than Mike?" He teased, tweaking her clitoris and flicking it, making her writher in pleasure.
Michonne cried out, spreading her legs further apart.
Rick responded by replacing his finger with his thumb and slowly teased his finger into her sopping cunt. "God Michonne, your pussy is going to be so tight around my cock. I don't think Mike was giving you the fucking a foxy Black honey like you deserves."
Rick slapped her ass again, as he finger fucked her; she jumped a little, "Mmm, baby you know those spankings I've been giving your ass?"
She nodded.
"Well now your ass is like a little black cherry, good enough to bite. When I get the chance, that's exactly what I'll do."
Rick's thumb rubbed Michonne's clit aggressively, she writhed and moaned, in a hypnotic trance as he spanked and finger fucked her, making her clit and pussy the centerof her universe. She pumped up and down, wondering just how slutty she looked.
Michonne felt so lewd, spread across the lap of a biker whom she had known for only a few hours, but no man had ever made her feel this good. Though of course, there had been only Mike. Michonne thought of the fact that the deliciously handsome white man was busy manhandling her, and then her pussy clamped down on his fingers.
"Oh Rick, I'm going to..." Michonne gasped and moaned in encouragement, closing her eyes and arching her back in pleasure as the warm delicious lick of intoxicating joy shook her body to the core.
Rick smacked her ass, sending another jolt of pleasure across her body, "Bad girl, you've cum all over my fingers. Now, lick them."
Michonne would normally say something smart-mouthed, but she quietly accepted the hand before her and licked all of her own juices off. Something about obeying what he said made her feel weak at the knees for him.
Rick growled at her. "Now now girl, I want you to beg, beg to fuck your white master's cock."
Michonne stopped licking and frowned, "I will do no such thing; one screw doth not make me your slave."
Rick returned his hand to her clit, "Not yet, but it will," He rubbed her clit, so that more of her juices oozed from her pussy lips.
Michonne arched her back, her body still electric from the previous climax: "Rick..."
"Beg for my cock baby, tell me how badly you want it." He sternly asked.
"No. I ain't begging and I ain't budging."
Rick slapped her ass with more force than before. Michonne jolted and cried out, "Ow! I'm not fucking you, Rick!"
"You sure?"
He then picked her up, suspending her in the air before sitting her on his lap, so that he could see the beautiful profile of her face. He wrapped his arms around her and playfully nibbled her earlobe, his blue eyes seeking her response. He found it in Michonne's lust-drowsy brown eyes, her eyelids heavy, fluttering.
Rick kissed her jaw, and then finally, he kissed her lips.
Michonne moaned before getting up to fully straddle him so that their noses practically touched, "I must be touched in the head to like you. Still, I guess no one ever needs to know. After I leave tomorrow we'll be strangers right?"
Rick kissed the tip of Michonne's nose with a tenderness that surprised her. "That's right. Let's face it, a white biker dude, a Black disco chick, not like we're going to get married! You need a good fucking, and I quite want one."
Michonne sighed and kissed Rick's jaw. "You really know how to romance a girl."
Rick hands traveled underneath her smooth back which arched from his touch. "Well, I'm good at picking up the courtship signals that girls give, like when that girl is sprawled all over my bed pantiless."
Michonne laughed and planted a kiss on Rick's lips, "It wasn't like that..."
Rick began to remove Michonne's shirt, she willingly obliged by lifting up her arms. He flung it across the room and gazed at her, angel-faced, and allowed his eyes to roam her perky tits topped with dark chocolate nipples.
Rick growled playfully. "Michonne, I want to screw you just like this, with you bouncing up and down my cock until I cum." He placed his tanned hands on her dark nipples, cupping them, feeling their weight, admiring their feminine curve.
"Rick you're all talk, just a tease." She moaned, arching her chest against him, before unexpectedly getting up wearing nothing but a teasing smile, and dragging him over to the bed by the lapel of his leather jacket. Rick obliged, allowing his feet to glide as if on air. She pushed him onto the bed and eagerly straddled him, before unbuckling his trousers and yanking down his jeans.
Rick, now lying on top of his rumpled duvet, kicked off his trousers and yanked off his jacket and shirt, so that he was there, covered in nothing but tattoos and his boxers. Michonne inhaled. His body was lean and strong, with muscles and bulk that made her stomach flutter. Rick caught her look of appreciation and grabbed her waist with his large tanned hands.
Michonne traced a tattoo of a snake wrapped around a dagger on his chest, and then craned down to kiss his, she then slid a hand underneath the material of his underwear, and felt the large, substantially large bulge, she heard him take a sharp breath.
Michonne felt the spirit of adventure grow within her. She shook her finger cheekily at the man who wanted her to continue massaging his cock. She intended to call the shots. She edged down his body until her face was level with his cloth-restrained cock. He could feel her breath, warm, like feathers, arousing him further.
She took pleasure in hearing his ragged breath, knowing the control she had over him, so she brushed her lips against his underwear, before using her teeth to gently edge them down. She looked up, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell as he struggled to control himself.
"Suck it." He groaned, unable to control himself, desperate, even in the moment of sex, not to lose his cool in front of a near-stranger, his one attempt at controlling the situation revealing his helplessness. Michonne didn't answer, she merely continued with intentional slowness.
The warmth of the room dwindled across his sensitive cock-flesh; he kept his eyes closed as he felt her warm breath grow closer to his balls. He opened his eyes, and watched the incredibly erotic sight of Michonne tenderly cradling the base of his cock with one hand and slowly swirling the tip of her pink tongue tentatively around the top of his raging hard-on before swallowing it and sucking him into a delicious vacuum of wetness. Her beautiful ebony face contrasted with his cock. He closed his eyes and moaned in satisfaction.
Michonne, relishing the reaction that she was eliciting from someone who was deeply uncomfortable with losing control. She slowed down and loosened her hands grip on the rock hard base of his cock to watch his hips rise in frustration, before picking up the pace again. She lightly scratched her nails down his belly, which caused another reaction.
She stopped, and Rick leaned forward, looking eager to take control of the situation. She tried to push him back down again, but he caught her wrist and drew her up to him, kissing her, his tongue for the first time penetrating her lips and brushing against her own tentative tongue, creating a fire between them that heightened the moment and made the air still. Michonne wrapped her hand round his broad tattooed back, and ran her nails lightly down it.
Rick's blazed cobalt blue eyes filled with desire and he growled. "I want you."
Michonne gasped as she felt him roll her back down and then gently bite and stretch out her nipples with his teeth. She whimpered as they throbbed from being in that delicious place between aroused to hard nubs and sore.
He squeezed her tits and then lay back, commanding playfully, "Ride my cock."
Michonne smiled cheekily. Rick watched her take hold of his cock head, flatten it against his belly, and then slowly, teasingly rubbed herself against the length. He felt her clitoris, the inner folds of her pussy, brush up and down against his flesh, making him thrust against her in frustration.
His skin lightly glistened, he couldn't take any more so he rose and before she could react, picked her up facing him and carried her to the wall. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, both of them gazing silently at each other, their eyes both dilate, yearning desperately for release.
He kissed her forcefully on the lips as her back met the wall and his hands grabbed her buttocks, he stopped kissing her lips and whispered, "Spread your legs a little more."
Michonne, in a fever of lust, obeyed, wrapping her dark legs around Rick's body, feeling his large, very aroused cock enter her. She was small in comparison to his masculine bulk, so she squirmed deliciously as she felt him grab her ass and thrust his way into her very tight, dripping pussy. He kissed the little sensitive spot between neck and jaw, making her moan loudly. Michonne's tits rubbed against Rick's chest; giving her some discomfort. She moved against him, meeting his thrusts as his cock expanded into her thoroughly, stretching her out in a way she had never experienced.
They were both gasping, and Michonne lost in the moment, starting whimper, "Is that the hardest you can fuck me with that big white cock of yours?"
Rick grunted. "Is that a challenge you sexy little slut?"
Michonne responded huskily, "Pretty much."
Rick took up the invitation thrust harder into her, and gently bit her neck. Michonne cried out louder as she felt her imminent orgasm clamp down hard around his cock.
Rick thrust in her a few more times before jetting his cum in her core whilst her legs were tightly wrapped around his waist and her arms around the neck. They both looked at each other, communicating in heavy breaths as their muscles relaxed.
Michonne unwrapped her legs tentatively, her skin glowing and her eyes still alive from the excitement that had occurred.
She then patted Rick's arm. "Thanks buddy, I needed that."
No kiss, no goo-goo eyes, no nothing. Rick watched in surprise as she sauntered sleepily across the room, picked up the shirt and then collapsed on the bed before sliding between the sheets.
She then yawned and stretched her arms out. "Goodnight."
Rick scratched his forehead baffled, "Thanks buddy? That all you can say? I didn't just pass you a football, or change your oil-"
Michonne interjected. "Oh baby, you definitely changed my oil, but let's get sleeping, do you mind if I take this side of the bed? I like sleeping on my right."
Rick was hurt, he didn't know why. He'd offered her some good loving, and had received indifference in return. He'd fucked a hell of a lot of girls, and always found it difficult to shake them off. He kind of liked having to fend them off, he preferred it to well... Being treated the way that he treated girls. He made her cum at least twice for God's sake.
He dejectedly walked towards his chair where he had dumped his clean clothes, rifled through and found some boxer shorts. He didn't like the feeling of weakness, of powerlessness because it revealed the stark truth, that at the end of the ride, life always, eventually clocked back round to the mundane.
He watched her curl up, ignoring him. He turned the light off then climbed into his area of bed, flipped over and slept.
When Rick closed his eyes, he saw terrible things. He saw a beautiful, but disfigured Vietnam, a jungle painted in green, flesh and red splatters. The dismembered bodies at the landing zone were still there; his gruesome dreams had not changed. In front of him, feeling more real than real life itself, lay a scattered exploded mess of former comrades and friends, whilst the bitter smell of RPG-7 rocket gunpowder stained the air. Shards of sunlight pierced through the splays of lush green foliage. So many bodies. Second Lt. Rick Grimes closed his eyes, hearing the footsteps of his platoon catch up with him from beyond. When he opened them again, everything was bleached white. There was another explosion behind him. He heard screams, blood curdling, painful screams.. He closed his eyes, just for a moment-
Rick woke up with a wild jolt; his eyes glinted feral and vulnerable in the darkness of the night. His heart raced frantically from the sense of panic. He faced the window, allowing his senses to slowly return.
Rick jerked a little when he felt a small hand grasp his arm, but calmed down when he remembered Michonne. She snuggled up to him, spooning his larger body with her smaller lithe frame by wrapping an arm around his torso, rubbing his chest reassuringly.
"Hope it's okay for me to hug you like this." Michonne gently cupped her small hand within his larger one, feeling the sense of terror drain away.
"Sure it is." He responded.
Michonne snuggled closer and yawned. "It's nice hugging you. G'night."
Rick felt the faint, slow rhythm of Michonne's chest against his back. He began to calm down, now feeling a bit bemused by her awkward and sleepy attempts to spoon him, he turned to lay on his back and repositioned her so that she was resting on his chest. He heard her sigh.
Rick became drowsy again, his eyelids flickered slowly into sleep; from shadows and silhouette's to black. He dreamt of darkness that night; it was a good dream.