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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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Rambo ripped the top off the chocolate chip muffin and stuffed it into his mouth. The chocolate chips squished deliciously in his mouth.
“Is this seat taken?”
He turned toward the unexpected voice. It was the red head from the elevator.
“morph,” he said spewing muffin crumbs onto the table.
She giggled, “should I take that as a yes?”
He quickly wiped the crumbs up with his napkin and gestured for her to join him. She laid her tray on the table, pulled out the hard plastic chair and sat down.
“Thanks. Boy it is amazing how crowded this place gets in the morning.”
Rambo quickly finished the muffin that was in his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Yeah,” he said trying hard to think of something better to say.
She took out a newspaper and began reading it sipping delicately on her coffee. Rambo looked around. The place had really filled up since he sat down. He had been so engrossed in his muffin he didn’t notice that table space had become a precious commodity. But, even though her choice of table may have been prompted by the table itself and not his presence he did not want to loose this opportunity.
“Are you here on business?” he asked.
She looked up from her newspaper. “What?”
“Oh sorry,” he said. “I was just wondering if you were her on business.
“Oh, yes. And you?”
“No, vacation of sorts. I have been here before though so if you need any help with directions I would be happy to help.
“Thanks, I have been here before as well though so I think I’ll be alright.”
She went back to reading her newspaper and Rambo went back to eating his muffin. After he was finished he brushed the crumbs onto his napkin and balled the napkin up.
“Well good luck with your trip,” he said to the red head and then grabbing his coffee made his exit out of the café. She was pretty but seemed more interested in her newspaper than making small talk with him. Taking the hint he thought it was best to get on the road and leave her to herself.
Once out in the sunshine the memory of the red headed soon faded as he located his car and eased his way down the narrow side road toward the highway. He flipped through a few radio stations trying to find something that wasn’t nauseating teen pop or wacky do’s doing wacky skits. Finally he located a middle of the road station and settled in for his half hour car ride to meet up with a few mates that had also escaped London. The radio chimed in with Abba. Rambo was almost tempted to change the station but as the words to S.O.S blasted through the car he was struck with the memory of the first time he had ever heard the song in 1975.
After his dream of Johnny’s cherry lip Rambo had avoided any place he thought Johnny might be. He figured out of sight out of mind was really the best policy. He also followed through on his plan to get more involved with the opposite sex and had spent a pleasant few months talking up Janey from the chip shop. He even accompanied her to a dance held at the youth center. She wasn’t nice and smelled great. Often he found his mind wandering when she would waffle on about this girl or guy from her school or how she had been so embarrassed by some old man’s leers at work. None of it really meant anything to Rambo. He tried to participate sometimes offering her tidbits about the latest scuffle had had been in but he quickly realized she found these upsetting not fun stories. Sometimes he was able to get a good feel on her tits or even a hand up her dress. He very quickly found out however, that she was a “good girl” and a few feels here and there was all he was going to get.
It was after a particularly ruff round of squabbles between neighborhoods that Rambo next saw Johnny. Rambo, Jimmy and a few mates were on their way back. They were a sight covered in ripped clothes, blood, cuts, scraps and swollen lips. Still they were ecstatic as they other side had ran home with their tail between their knees. Johnny was walking down the street with a mate of his named John Grey. At first Rambo didn’t recognize him. It was only after Jimmy had said “bloody hell Johnny, watcha done to your hair,” that Rambo locked in to Johnny. His long, girl like hair was nothing more than a memory. In its place was a copped mess of green hair sitting defiantly on top of John’s head.
“Wha? Oh this,” John Laughed. “Well dad said cut it right? So I did!” he and Gray fell about laughing.
“How did dad take it?” Jimmy asked with wide eyes.
“ Howdya think? Threw me out.” Johnny beamed proudly at this statement though Jimmy looked far more wary about the news.
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh I got it sorted don’t you worry. Me and Sid are gonna squat. Sid’s got a house and everything. It’s got some hippies living there as well but apparently they keep to themselves.”
“As well they should,” Gray offered.
“Yeah,” laughed Johnny. “So common we gotta celebrate. Lets go get pissed.”

More beers than are brewed in a day later Johnny and crew jumped around to the sounds of S.O.S by Abba. The song was new to the pubs jukebox. For the sheer hell of it Johnny had continued plunking in money and playing the song over and over again dancing wildly to it and screeching out the chorus. The others joined in making a hell of a racket until the pub manager threw them out and they staggered toward John’s new squat.
By one in the morning Jimmy had wandered home and the rest had either called it a night or crashed on the floor of the main room. Rambo staggered upstairs and fell on the mattress that was in the room John had claimed for himself. John was still up listing to his reggae records and arguing with Gray over Arsenal players and their worth.
At some point Rambo became aware their was someone else on the mattress with him. This in itself was hardly worth waking up for. Beds were for sleeping and everyone, girl, boy slept in the same beds with no problem or suspicions. As Rambo blinked awake however he saw Johnny’s face as he slept. Every feeling Rambo had tried to ignore bubbled up especially after he caught site of those damn lips. They were the same. Pouty, dark Red, beautiful. Rambo desperately wanted to taste them. He stared at Johnny trying to gauge how deeply asleep he was.
“Johnny?” he said in a whisper. Johnny did not stir.
Feeling as if this might be his only chance to once and for all get this stupid thought out of his brain Rambo gave into his impulse and leaned in pressing his lips onto Johns. Immediately John’s eyes opened and his head pulled back away from Rambos.
“What are you doing tosser?” he asked more confused than mad.
“Sorry,” said Rambo who quickly moved back toward the other side of the mattress.
“Sorry, thought you were a bird, still drunk I guess,” he stammered out.
“Mmmm. Sure mate.”
John laid on his back and stared at the ceiling but said nothing .
A million thoughts went through Rambo’s brain. He was just about to launch into another, more detailed explanation when he felt the blanket moving off his legs slightly. Thinking a creature, perhaps even a rat had joined them he quickly looked under the blanket. Bugs were one thing but Rambo hated rats. But it was not vermin that he found.
“Corr wish I had that to show the birds,” Rambo said impressed. Johnny was apparently not as disgusted by the kiss as Rambo had thought he was or at least a certain part of his body was interested. He felt a small wave of pleasure go through him.
Johnny turned onto his side, his back away from Rambo.
“I’m pouf,” Johnny said quietly.
“Never said you was mate.”
“Then whatcha on about? Kissing me, looking at me body? Your not drunk”
“Oh,” said Rambo. “Told ya mate was sleeping . Didn’t realize what I was doing. And I thought maybe a rat was under the blanket. Mine don’t make the blanket move that way.”
Johnny chuckled a little. Rambo always had such a plain way of talking it made him laugh.
“Fat lot of good it will do me with this fuckin face. Besides don’t care. All of that kissing and fuckin it’s disgustin. It’s ugly and worthless.
“Feels good though”
“Wouldn’t know. Don’t care.”
“Oh, you never been with a bird?”
John sighed but more at the idea than the question.
“Well a little. You know like this one girl gave it a hand toss ya know. Wanted her to suck at it but she said no.”
“Wouldn’t let you stick it in?”
“She said I could but I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Sure you stick it in and then your stuck good. Stuck to her ball and chain brats and all.”
“You coulda used a rubber.”
“Uh huh. How many of us you think are here cause of rotten rubber?”
Rambo was quiet for a moment. He had forgotten what it was like to talk with Johnny. It seemed Johnny’s brain was always several steps ahead of his. He like the challenge of trying to keep up and all the new thoughts Johnny came up with.
“Probably right at that. If I thought about it I bet that’s how I got here,” Rambo said finally.
“I know I am. I’m a mistake. Dad stuck it in mum and here comes Johnny!” Johnny laughed with a bitterness Rambo was not used to.
Rambo changed the conversation back to birds since that was something he was at least a little knowledgeable about.
“Too bad she didn’t use her mouth. Feels great when they do that.”
“Don’t matter. Probably wouldn’t like it anyway. Don‘t like all that body stuff.”
“Oh, well I like it alright. Maybe you just haven’t had a good time with it and when you do you’ll like it more. Anyway birds will be impressed by ya.”
John rolled over and looked at him. He had an unnerving way of looking right into you. He looked down at Rambo who was not covered by a blanket anymore.
“Yours looks alright. Not much different anyway. Really ugly though aren’t they,” he asked giggling a little
“Never thought they supposed to be pretty. Not like tits.”
John laughed at Rambo’s comment. “Guess not at that. So what does it feel like?”
“What?”
“If they use their mouths. I mean, I might be willing if it felt good. If not I might just forget the whole thing.”
This admission seemed sad to Rambo. Johnny was always so down on himself. Seemed a hard way to go through things. “Umm hot and wet.”
“Sounds unpleasant.”
“No. not at all mate I’m just not good at explaining things that’s all.”
“Are you better at showing me?”
Rambo was not sure what he had heard. Was Johnny asking him to do what he thought he was? The very idea excited him beyond reason.
“What do mean?”
“What? Oh nothing. Just a thought…I mean forget it.”
“No, that’s alright. I mean as long as you know I don’t fancy you or anything I don’t mind showing you. Just so you can see if you like it.”
“But just to show me right? Nothing more.”
“Right.”
“Alright then. Show me.”
Rambo was shaking. He was sure Johnny was going to throw him out of his room at any moment. Yet, he was also asking him to touch him. It was all so confusing and exciting. Slowly and with no grace Rambo moved toward the bottom of the bed. Johnny turned his head so he was looking at the wall not at Rambo. Rambo had never done anything like this and was unsure not only of what he was doing but if he was going to be able to go through with it at all.
Johnny’s cock was fully erect and very hard. Rambo touched it gently. Johnny sucked in his breath. Rambo closed his eyes and quickly put it in his mouth and then pulled it out. It didn’t really taste like anything. He repeated his actions leaving it in for longer this time. Johnny let out a little moan. Pleasure rushed through Rambo at the sound.
“Do you want me to continue?” he asked Johnny hoping for a yes.
“If you want,” Johnny replied trying and failing to sound disinterested. His head was still turned toward the wall.
Rambo continued. He let his tongue touch the cock. It was hot and veiny. He sucked in a little and moved the cock in and out.
“Sttooppp,” Johnny whispered without any conviction and without doing anything to stop Rambo.
Rambo was lost in the moment. He began going faster and faster. He felt like he was sucking a cock and having his sucked at the same time. It felt so good.
Johnny buried his face into the pillow. He was letting out little squeals. Rambo could feel each sound rolling through his body causing him to moan a little himself.
“No stop…gonna…stop,”
Johnny was a little louder this time causing Rambo to take the cock out of his mouth. He still held it in his hand and began stroking it like it was his own. Johnny tried to swat at his hand but then suddenly he buried his face in his pillow again. After a moment Johnny moaned loudly into the pillow as hot cum poured over Rambo’s hand. Johnny’s body stopped moving. Rambo was proud of himself for making Johnny feel that good.
Johnny jumped up from the bed and practically ran to the other side of the room. He was beat red and shaking. He grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and cleaned himself off. Rambo did the same with a shirt near where he was.
“You’re a fuckin punter aren’t ya?” Johnny hissed at him.
“What?” Rambo asked confused. There were tears of anger in Johnny’s eyes.
“You wanted that didn’t ya? I asked you to stop but you wanted that. Your gonna use this against me aren’t ya? Gonna tell everyone I’m some sort of pouf .”
“What are you going on about? I thought you liked it.,” Rambo looked hurt and confused. “I didn’t think that…”
“Forget it,” Johnny interrupted. He was clearly angry but did not raise his voice for fear of waking the house. “Gonna tell them all I like it.”
“Why would I do that? My mates would be pissed if I did.”
This seemed to physically calm Johnny down a little but the anger remained in his eyes.
“Look you don’t have to worry. I mean it’s natural right? I mean it’s not that bad,” Rambo said still hurt.
“Fuck off.”
“Fine,” Rambo was close to tears. He gathered up his clothes and , after checking that no one was in the hallway left Johnny’s room. Johnny stood in the corner watching him go but made no attempt to say anything else to him.
Rambo locked himself into the bathroom. He was shaking from head to foot. What the hell had just happened? What was happening to him? Was he a fucking fairy? Why had he done it? Fucking Johnny had asked him, he was sure of it. Or had he? He was so confused. A few angry tears left his eyes. He quickly put on his clothes. Silently he left the bathroom and left the squat determined to never speak to Johnny ever again.
Johnny crawled back onto the mattress and pulled the covers over himself. He was still shaking. It was all too confusing. Fuckin sex. Everything always came down to sex and it always ended badly. He knew in his head and heart that he had asked Rambo to but he thought Rambo would say no and Johnny would laugh it off. He was always testing things that way. He liked to see how far he could take things. How badly things could work out before he got taken down in the carnage. But this time the disaster came out of left field. He had never expected to enjoy what Rambo did. In truth it was fucking brilliant. He had never felt anything that good before. So now what? What he a fuckin pouf? Should he take up hairdressing and start making his wrist limper and limper? One thing was for certain he was never, ever going to talk to Rambo again.
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The Long and Winding Road