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The Long and Winding Road	By : rottengrl Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Sex Pistols Views: 1696 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of the Sex Pistols. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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*Note-John Lydon always seems to travel with a childhood friend named John "Rambo" Stevens. This is the Rambo I am referring to and Nora is his wife whome he met when he was around 19*

The hotel room hung with cool, stale air. The nightstand held several packs of cigarettes, three empty beer bottles, a cheap alarm clock, and a television remote. Crumpled pieces of paper and dollar bills were sprinkled over the whole mess like decorations on cupcakes. John “Rambo” Stevens woke up and blinked at the room. The room sat quietly staring back. He was alone. He hated waking up alone. Or, more accurately, he hated waking up without him. But, Rambo knew this day was coming. Just like it came every year. It was the start of John and Nora’s annual two week anniversary trip. Two weeks Nora demanded John all to herself. All day every day. Translation, no Rambo. Not that he couldn’t live two weeks without John in his life. No matter what John thought to the contrary.
Rambo chuckled over that thought while getting out of bed. He stumbled and staggered toward the bathroom. He was never graceful in life and even less so in the morning. John often compared him to a short elephant that had been hit with a tranquilizer dart.
After using the toilet Rambo stood staring at his reflection in the mirror. He could hardly believe he was in his fifties. Where had the years gone? His hair was a light spiky blonde and his skin a tawny tan but there were wrinkles quickly staking claim all over his face betraying his age. He sighed and turned on the faucet.
It was even harder for him to believe that it had been over thirty years since he had first met John. Originally it was Jimmy’s Lydon, one of John’s younger brothers, that Rambo had hung around with. John was simply part of the background at the Lydon household. A quiet part like a chair or a dust ruffle. Not much to remember.
But is was because of Jimmy or more accurately because Jimmy got held up at school that John and Rambo became better friends. Jimmy and he were supposed to get together after school so Rambo had wandered over to the Lydon house. Surprisingly it was John not Jimmy who answered.
“Here to see Jimmy,“ Rambo had said
“Not here,“ John had answered before telling him he was welcomed to come in and wait.
There mother was out on an errand and John was watching one of the younger brothers, he wasn’t sure now if it was Bobby or Martin, it had been to long to keep such details straight anymore. John was always good around them boys though. Kept them out of trouble for the most part. Made sure they were fed and that no one was getting to rough with them.
Rambo let the steam rise from the sink as he sprayed out shaving lotion on his hand and spread the lather onto his face.
Yup, John was a good big brother that’s for sure. He was playing Reggae that day on a record player in his room. Rambo remembered that part clearly. It was because of that music that he went up to John’s room. He just wanted to know what the song was. It was good. John was standing by the dresser, arranging a few items on it, taking some things out of his pockets…putting a few things back in his pockets. Organizing his meager belongings. The younger bother was parked on the floor playing with a toy truck. He kept banging it into the bed screaming “bang, bang” as it hit. John didn’t seem to mind. He noticed Rambo in the doorway. “Some driver he’ll wind up to be eh?” he said to Rambo smiling at him.
Rambo chuckled a little. “Yes. Hey what song is this? It’s good.”
“Legalize it. Great yeah? Funny as well. Pete Tosh”
“Yeah. Hard to find those Reggae records sometimes though. Wow you got a lot of them,” Rambo noticed the small pile of records leaning up against one of the walls. He went over to it and began to flick through.
“Bang!” the baby said smashing the truck against John’s foot.
“Okay, you monster. Naptime.” John scooped him up. The baby played with his John’s hair which was long, almost girl like. “Hey get off me hair. Owwwww,” John pretended the baby was dramatically hurting him. The baby giggled and allowed John to carry him off for a nap.
Rambo was content to look through the records not noticing how long John had been gone. Probably long enough to make sure his brother actually stayed down for his nap. When he returned Rambo had moved on to John’s 45 collection.
“What you like to listen to?” John asked returning to the room
“Oh, Ska I guess. Reggae, Glitter”
“Mmm same. This one is good.”
Rambo lifted the razor to his face and began shaving, creating neat rows of hairless skin on his cheeks and chin. He had thought nothing of the conversation or of John really. It was only towards the end of it that he was shaken in ways that would change the direction of his life.
The records had played on while he and John debated this singer and that. They sat on the floor shifting through John’s collection. At one point John leaned over to get a record. His arm brushed Rambos. For some reason this made Rambo sit up a little stiffer, though he was not sure why. He looked up from the record he was holding as John launched into a small lecture on the merits of the particular Reggae artist whose record he had just retrieved. But, Rambo was having trouble concentrating. He was distracted by John’s lips. They were full, with a small overbite on the top and the bottom one coming out a little like in a permanent pout. But, it was their color that really distracted him. They looked like a dark cherry filled with juice. John ran his tongue over them making them into cherries caught in the rain. Suddenly Rambo could feel other parts of him start to stiffen along with his posture. He jumped up startling John.
“Eh sorry, bathroom call,‘ he made his lame excuse and quickly left the room.
Once inside the bathroom with the door safely latched he went into a small panic. What was that all about? Sure the guy had girl like hair but he was not a girl. Rambo liked girls. Had always liked them. Didn’t have much luck with them but certainly he was no poof. He readjusted himself and calmed himself down. He would go home and forget this stupid afternoon. That is what he was going to do. Fuckin John. He was probably the poof making Rambo look at him that way without Rambo knowing it.
He left the bathroom and found John going to check on the baby.
“Er stomach not so good matey. Tell Jimmy I’ll see him later.” Rambo said walking quickly away from John. John may have replied but Rambo was determined not to look at him as he walked through the front parlor and out of the house.
Later in the night Rambo lay awake reassuring himself once again that it was simply hormones raging at the wrong time and nothing more. He was, after all, a known football hooligan and all around tough bloke. No one who knew him would deny it. He was no fairy him. It was just too much hormones not enough girls. That was all. He needed to get him a girl for a while. Sort out the hormones. There was that girl Janey or something in the chip shop he had seen the other day. Yeah, she was alright. Nothing super or anything but nice strawberry colored hair, pretty hazel eyes, large tits. Thinking about her calmed him down and his cock becoming stiff reassured him that his was right about the nonsense from today. He thought more about Janey, about her eyes and her hair. He stroked himself slowly getting lost in the thoughts. He thought about the little cotton dress she was wearing the last time he was in. He could see the outline of her breasts and her nipples through the thin fabric. He stroked faster. Yes, that was it. Big naked breasts flashed into his mind. Mmm nice. Yes that’s it alright. Maybe wet…uhhh even betta… . His hand moved quickly pushing himself toward a climax. Hmmm nice wet naked tits, nice hazel eyes , nice dark cherry lips. Suddenly he realized his mind had double crossed him and was thinking once again to those damn lips he had seen earlier in the day. And, how they had glistened when Johnny had run his tongue over them. He tried to stop himself, tried to get any other image into his head, but it was too late. He moaned as pleasurable sensations cascaded through his body and hot cum poured over his fingers. He sucked in his breath and rode out the pleasure. After it had passed, he lay defeated in the dark. Rolling over he fell into an uneasy and unhappy sleep.
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The Long and Winding Road