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The Long Weekend (Talk Dirty to Me, cont.)	By : ravenwoman Category: Individual Celebrities > Johnny Depp Views: 4251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Johnny Depp. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Long Weekend (Talk Dirty to Me, cont..
- 1
I tried to concentrate on the road as I slowly made my way through the rush hour traffic, but it was difficult. My mind kept wanting to wander. I was buzzing like a live wire with excitement.
I had a long weekend ahead and a “date” with Johnny. We’d kept in touch by phone since our last rendezvous, even after I’d stopped taking calls from other men, and we were finally going to get together again. In person, in the flesh.
I almost rear-ended a silver Saturn and forced my wayward mind back to the task at hand. Commuting was the biggest drawback to my decision to quit the chat-line and take employment outside the home, and at times like these I questioned the wisdom of my choice. But what else could I do? I no longer had even the slightest interest in phone sex with any man other than him, couldn’t even feign interest convincingly, and in fact, had found myself increasingly disgusted and repulsed by my other callers. Time to pack it in.
Besides, I enjoyed the social interactions and challenges of my new workplace.
It was probably unhealthy, this fixation on, let’s face it, an unavailable man. I didn’t even date anymore, rejecting the advances of the more present and realistic prospects around me without a second thought to go home and wait for the phone to ring. Yes, definitely unhealthy, but as compelling and undeniable as any addiction.
I finally made it to my exit and five short minutes later pulled into the parking lot of my apartments. I sat in the car for several moments after parking, ticking like the hot engine. I had a lot to do between now and the time I caught my flight for Los Angeles, but I needed to calm down and focus or I’d never get it all accomplished. Packing, arranging for my friend from upstairs to feed the cat (had to get her the key, I reminded myself), and I had a bikini wax scheduled for…oh SHIT! I got out of the car, grabbed my things, and walked quickly to my door, fumbling the key into the lock. Tossing everything on the couch, I kicked my heels off and trotted into the bedroom. Pussykins welcomed me with plaintive meows and a kamikaze dash through my moving legs, almost tripping me.
“Yes, hello to you, too.” I stripped off my hose (pantyhose, that was another drawback to the new job) and snatched a pair of jeans from the floor, yanking them on under my skirt. I slid out of the skirt and into a pair of flip-flops, then headed for the door, grabbing my purse as I went. “Be back soon,” I promised Pussykins, who glared at me petulantly from the arm of the couch, her tail swishing.
When I returned and flopped into an arm chair, she leaped into my lap almost instantly, demanding my attention with a probing head. A cat, I thought, as I stoked and rubbed, is like a giant clitoris. The image made me smile. I petted her a bit longer then went to the kitchen, made a sandwich, and took it to the bedroom so I could eat as I packed.
My flight was at nine a.m. which meant a very early morning, considering traffic and the typical airport delays. I packed light, just a few items of sleep wear (sleep, ha, ha, that was funny), a nice outfit in case we went out anywhere (unlikely, I thought, given the clandestine nature of our relationship, if you could call it that, coupled with his fame), another pair of jeans and an sexy velvet camisole top. I slid two pair of shoes into the pocket in the lid of the suitcase, and left it open on the floor. My overnight bag was on the counter in the bathroom; I could toss it in just before leaving.
I sighed and lay back on the bed, finally allowing myself to relax. My extra key was in an envelope on the bedside table, ready to be slid under Karen’s door on my way out. My ticket was in my purse. My clothes for the morning were laid out on the chair.
I unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled out of them, kicking them to the floor. I ran my hand over my freshly denuded bikini line. We’d taken off quite a bit this time, leaving only a narrow strip of hair covering my mound. I hoped Johnny would like it. I sure did; it was so smooth and sexy and, well, radical compared to my usual sparse but unruly bush. I found I couldn’t stop stroking it. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to either. Stroking, nuzzling, kissing, tonguing, thrusting…oh my, I was like a kid on Christmas Eve! I forced myself to remove my hand, plenty of time for that tomorrow, save it for him.
I reached for the remote instead, but just as I aimed it, the phone rang. Thinking it was probably Karen reminding me she still needed the key, I answered it. “Yeah?”
“You don’t sound very excited to hear from me,” he teased. “Have you changed your mind?”
Oh lord. My hand stole back down to my panties.
“What mind? I’m completely out of it right now thinking about seeing you again.”
“Good,” he purred. “Me too. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.”
“No, I mean it. I CAN’T wait. I’m about to explode, Janice.” His voice took on that deep, urgent tone which sent bursts of heat rushing through me. I felt a gush of moisture between my legs and moaned softly. “Me too,” I whispered.
Our last conversation, which had left me spent, out of breath and completely satiated, had been only two days ago, but as always, it felt as if it had been years, no centuries, so intense was the longing.
“I’m lying here thinking about you,” he said. “About your face. About your eyes, baby. Aw, God, about your eyes and how they looked when you were coming under me.” He paused, breathing heavily. ”About your mouth,” he finally went on breathlessly, “I want to feel that mouth on me right now. On MY mouth. IN my mouth. On my COCK. I want to come in your mouth while you suck and lick my cock, Janice. Can I? Tell me I can, baby,” he pleaded.
Oh, God, I was actually dizzy. “Jesus, Johnny, yes,” I moaned. He knew I’d regretted that omission from our last encounter, and I knew he had as well. He’d had fellatio on the brain lately. I’d barely gotten a taste before we’d moved on. This time, we’d have more time, we’d take our time. “I’m going to suck your beautiful cock until you scream, baby, until you pump yourself inside out down my throat.” I meant it, too. He groaned loudly.
I licked my lips and pushed the edge of my now soaked panties aside and slid a finger into myself, pumping gently. “I can still feel you, still taste you, Johnny,” I continued. “Feel your veins, your hard ridges and, oh, your soft, hot skin under my lips and tongue.” I moved my hand slowly, already feeling myself build to orgasm. Shit, I’d been most of the way there before even touching myself! Only he could do that.
”I can feel you pulsing in my mouth, moving in and out. I can still taste your cum, baby, oh god.” As I spoke the last words, I came, hard, throbbing around my fingers, and cried out.
“Oh CHRIST,” he gasped, releasing himself into his hand or into the air, imagining he was doing so into me.
We chatted for a while about mundane things then, about the car he was sending to collect me at the airport, about how his latest shoot was going, about how I was liking my new job, about a new CD I’d bought and promised to bring.
“Well, goodnight,” I finally said. “I’ve got an early morning, you know, and you’ve worn me out.”
He laughed. “Yes, you need to rest up, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. So do you. Save it up for me, baby.”
An exquisite tension hung in the air between us, and this time we left it there.
“Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered, and broke the connection.

My flight was uneventful. I watched the in-flight movie in a half-assed way (it wasn’t one of his) and thumbed through the magazines and catalogues disinterestedly. I found the car easily, a uniformed driver holding up a sign with my name on it meeting me as I disembarked.
At the hotel, I approached the desk and gave my name. Yes, I was expected. I could go right up.
I boarded the elevator, my suitcase in one hand and my heavy carry-on bag over the other shoulder. My legs felt weak and trembly, my fresh wax job smooth and sensuous against my panties. My heart pounded and my nipples hardened as the car approached his floor. I knew they’d called him from downstairs, knew he’d be waiting. I wondered if he was as excited as I was right now. I hoped so.
The metal doors slid open and I walked a bit unsteadily down the long, opulent hallway to his door. I raised my free hand to knock, but the door opened before I could.
“Hi,” he said, and immediately took my suitcase and shoulder bag from me, dropping them just inside the door. “Come in.”
He slid his arm around my waist, gently pulling me inside, and as soon as the door was closed, pushed me against the entryway wall and ran his hands up to my breasts. His face went to my throat, his kisses soft at first, quickly growing more urgent and lower. He pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it over his shoulder. As his mouth sucked in my nipple, I made a low sound and reached out for him. He pressed into me, trapping my hand between his cock and my pelvis. He kept sucking and kneading, moving from one breast to the other, and pushing against me with forceful, slow thrusts.
“Oh, Johnny, take it out…let me have it, please!” I rubbed on his fly and ran my other hand through his hair. “I can’t stand it!”
Panting, he undid his pants and let them fall to his ankles. I seized his erection and guided it toward my pussy.
“Oh yes, Janice, let me in, baby.” I felt his hand under my skirt, then sliding into my panties, pushing them aside. “Oh, god,” he moaned, as he felt the smooth skin under his fingers. He practically tore the tiny underwear off me, and spread my thighs wide. He was inside me in one thrust, and I called his name as I brought my legs up to encircle his waist. He fell back to sucking my nipples, his hands grasping my hips as he drove into me harder and deeper. I bucked upward into him and came, pumping against him, with him, deliriously.
“Oh, fuck, oh, YES!” He impaled me against the wall, stilling my motions, and I felt him empty himself into my pulsating cunt.
We both slid down the wall, ending up in a heap on the floor, still connected, kissing and running our hands over one another.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said, between kisses. “It drives me crazy, not being able to touch you, hearing you coming from a thousand or more miles away and not being able to see you or touch you or FUCK you, oh, Janice. I can’t go on like this.”
I pulled his face up to mine and said, suddenly serious, “Don’t say that, Johnny. Don’t say you can’t go on like this.” I felt tears stinging my eyes and blinked them away furiously. “We both know this is all we can have. And if it ends…” I couldn’t finish. There was suddenly a large lump in my throat blocking all words.
“Oh, baby girl, that’s not what I meant, I…I just meant it’s…. torture.” He kissed my cheeks gently, tasting the tears I now realized had spilled anyway. “But it’s worth it. THIS is worth it. Ok? It’s not gonna end, baby, don’t cry.”
I nodded, and found his mouth with mine, tasting him, sucking him gently, and, I realized with something close to panic, loving him, and knowing it WOULD end, it had to. And even if it didn’t, what else was there? Where could this go? Was this the way I wanted it? The way HE wanted it? Oh shit, I was in so much fucking trouble here.

We did go out, for dinner, me changing into the little black dress and black heels I’d packed.
“Are you sure?” I asked, as I touched up my makeup at the bathroom mirror.
“Absolutely. It’ll be ok. I don’t ALWAYS get recognized, and if I do…” He trailed off, putting on his jacket and looking around for his wallet and room card.
I came out of the bathroom. “If you do, what? What then? I just think it’s a risk. We could always order in.”
“Aww, fuck it, “ he said, sounding irritated. With me? With the situation? “Look it, the press is always pairing me with co-stars, acquaintances, even complete strangers. So it gets in the tabloids that I was seen having dinner with some unknown woman. Big deal. Means nothing.” I didn’t reply, and he looked at me, the impact of his words dawning on him. “Oh, shit, Janice, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” And I did, but still, it hurt, because I also knew it was true, in the end. Some unknown woman. Big deal. Means nothing. I put such bleak thoughts out of my mind and smiled. “Let’s go then.”
He didn’t get recognized, or if he did, no-one approached him. No flashbulbs went off, no crowds formed. It was a lovely evening, full of good food, wine, and conversation. And flirting, of course. As the wine and laughter warmed us, we exchanged ever more risqué comments. I slipped my shoe off and rubbed my stocking foot underneath the cuff of his trousers. He smiled and took a slow sip of his wine, licking his lips thoughtfully as he watched me across the table. I raised my foot to his thigh, moving it slowly but firmly there. He reached underneath the tablecloth, grasped my calf softly, and moved my foot to his crotch, never breaking our eye contact. I massaged his hard-on until he closed his eyes, sighed, and reached back down to still me.
I smiled and removed my foot, slipping it back into my shoe.
The dessert course was a visual, sensual feast of licking and sucking, our eyes never leaving one another’s mouths as we slowly devoured the sweet, creamy concoction.
The waiter brought the check, and Johnny placed a credit card on the small tray. As the waiter walked away to process the payment, I whispered, “I am so wet for you, baby. I wish I could slip under this table and suck you off right here, right now.”
The waiter brought the tray back, and I grinned as I watched Johnny fumble with the pen and his card as he put it back in his wallet.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and shaky, “Finish your wine.”
“I don’t want it,” I murmured, “I want to drink YOU.” He swallowed hard and stood, carrying his jacket in front of him.
“Why don’t you put it on?” I asked coyly, smiling softly as he led me out of the restaurant with his hand on my elbow.
“You’ll get yours, you naughty girl,” he threatened under his breath.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, sir,” I replied primly.

We managed to keep our hands mostly to ourselves in the car, but kissed and groped one another in the elevator until we were both flushed and out of breath. We then all but ran down the hallway to his room. He dropped the key-card twice, so frantic was he to insert it, and I laughed and guided his hand home on his third attempt.
Once inside, we began undressing one another. He unzipped my dress and helped me step out of it. I unbuttoned his shirt and he ripped it off, his eyes on my barely furred sex through my filmy panties. I lingered intentionally over his belt and zipper, and he threw his head back and groaned with frustration.
“Oh, fuck, hurry!” I went slower. Finally free, he kicked his pants away and pulled his boxers down and off, then reached for me. I pushed him gently back.
“Go lay down,” I ordered, “on the bed.”
He did, and I climbed in beside him on my hands and knees. I knelt there looking at him, at his face, at his moving throat, at his chest, at the trail of fine, dark hair leading from just below his navel to the base of his, oh, fuck, absolutely beautiful manhood.
“Oh, god, Janice, suck me, please, suck my cock, baby.” He raised his head slightly, and reached out to touch my arm, pushing me tenderly but insistently downward.
I licked my lips and bit the side of my tongue softly, generating a mouthful of saliva. I bent over and let it ooze out onto the head of his prick, and he thrust upward, voicing a small cry. I lowered my lips to the head of his cock and enveloped it, sucking very softly at first, just covering the glans.
“Oh jesus, yes, oh fuck, baby, take it in, take it all in!” He tossed his head to one side and moved his hand more forcefully on my shoulder. I opened wider and slid my way down slowly until my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I inhaled deeply and sucked him steady and deep for several moments before sliding and licking my way back up to the head and beginning the whole sequence again. I fondled his heavy sack with one hand and reached up to pinch and flick his erect nipple with the other.
He went mad. His cries were loud and primitive, his hips arched and jerked under me, his hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically in my hair and on the blanket.
I re-positioned myself so I was stradling his thigh, and pressed my wet, silk covered pussy against him. He bent his knee, raising his leg slightly, and I rode his thigh, sliding and grinding my swollen clit over his firm muscle, my head moving up and down on him faster now as our excitement peaked.
“Ahhh,” he cried out, “oh, don’t…don’t STOP, baby, I’m COMing, oh fuck, I’m…” He swelled massively in my mouth and loosed a flood of cum into the back of my throat. I gulped and as he pulsed again and sent a second burst into me, I moaned loudly around him and orgasmed. After a moment we fell apart, both gasping for air and inarticulate.
“Oh, oh, that was…” I lay on my back next to him, spent, dazed. He panted beside me, groaning softly. He flopped an arm onto my belly, caressing me with his palm.
“Yes, it was,” he breathed.
We slept.

I awoke before he did, as the sun was rising. I sat crossed-legged on the bed, smoking one of his cigarettes and watching him. He was so beautiful. An odd word for a man, but it was the only one which approached the truth. And I loved him. Way to go, stupid, I chided myself.
The smoke must have roused him, for he stirred and peered around sleepily, then reached for the cigarette. I gave it to him, half-smoked and sloppily rolled as it was.
He finished it off in two puffs and snubbed it out in the glass ashtray on the bed between us.
“Hey,” he said, a slow, contented smile forming on his beautiful mouth.
“Hey yourself,” I replied, a bit tersely, and bounced off the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Are you mad at me?”
You big, stupid oaf, I thought. You just don’t get it, do you?
I said, “No, of course not. I’m just ready for a shower and something to eat.”
I caught his wicked grin and added, “Something ELSE to eat,” smiling back.
He groaned and pushed himself up to a sitting position, the sheet pooling around his waist. I noticed how he was tenting it, and he followed my eyes. "Gotta pee," he said, and tossed it off as he rose. In spite of myself, in spite of knowing it was just the good morning woody every guy gets, even the fucking Pope, the sight of his engorged member sent a tingle through me. He scratched his pubic hair and smiled sweetly at me as he passed by me on the way to the toilet.
We showered together, sticking mostly to the task at hand, with only minor deviations. I really WAS hungry, starving, in fact, and he seemed to share my appetite. His stomach growled loudly as I soaped his back, and we both laughed. While I dried and pulled on a tee shirt and jeans, he, towel around his hips, dripping all over the expensive carpeting, called room service and ordered breakfast.
When it arrived, I said, “My God, Johnny, this is enough food to feed an army!” A large covered silver dish of scrambled eggs, a platter heaped with waffles, a huge plate of bacon, toast, hash browns, it just went on and on. Amazingly, we finished most of it.
“So, what shall we do today?” he said, still chewing his last slice of bacon. He’d polished off that plate himself; I just didn’t dig on pork. He apparently did, in a big way.
“Hmmmm.” I stood and looked out the window. “It’s nice out. We could just go walking. Window shop.” As soon as I’d said it, I realized the complications entailed. We’d tempted the gods last night, as it was.
I looked at him and saw he was reading my thoughts, a small, cynical smile on his face. He sighed heavily and threw his napkin onto the room service cart.
He came over and stood behind me as I stared out the window. He put his hands on my upper arms, rubbing them. He bent forward and nuzzled my neck. I sighed and let my head fall to one side, exposing my neck and throat to his lips. He brought his hands around to cup my breasts, and pressed his body against my mine, his growing erection eager on the small of my back. He kissed my throat gently, sensuously. The feel of his mouth on the sensitive skin there was highly erotic. It put me in mind of his mouth elsewhere. I pressed back into him, breathing deeply. He ran his fingers teasingly over my nipples, sliding over and around them through the thin cotton.
“Johnny,” I murmured.
“Yes, Janice?” he breathed, and ran the tip of his tongue slowly and deliberately up my throat and to the base of my ear. I shivered, and he began sucking the lobe tenderly, which made me tremble and moan quietly.
“Are you still hungry, baby?” I whispered, undulating against him.
“Oh, yeah. I’m ravenous.” He moved his lips up the rim of my ear and rubbed my rigid nipples harder. The sensations shot through me, directly to my pussy, which now throbbed and ached. “Do you have some dessert for me, baby?”
I was beyond speech. I nodded and reached down to unbutton my jeans. He lowered his hands to my waist and helped me slide them off, then slid back up to slide his fingers into the sides of my panties until they met in the middle. I tilted upwards and he touched the edges of my lips, parted them, and went lower, deeper.
His breath came quicker and hot in my ear.
“So soft,” he said, so quietly I would not have heard him had his mouth not been on my ear. “So smooth and soft and wet and warm. I want to see it.” He pulled away and turned me around to face him. He dropped to his knees in front of me, and pulled the panties down and off. I dropped a hand to his head, my heart racing as I looked down at him. He stroked and opened me, examining every fold carefully. I spread my legs slightly, and he inserted a finger into me, pumping it several times before drawing it out and up, passing over my clit and eliciting a small gasp.
He looked up at me and smiled, then lowered his face to me, brushing his lips over my labia. His tongue crept out and probed, and I ran my hand through his hair, bracing myself against the wall with my other arm. “Oh, baby, yes, like that.”
He plunged deep inside and I cried out, opening myself wider, as he thrust in and out, brushing my engorged head with each motion.
“God, I need to lie down,” I said, and he pumped me once more then rose, kissing his way up my body until he reached my mouth. I tasted my own sweet nectar on him and sucked his tongue. He led me to the couch, guiding me backwards as we kissed. He pushed me onto it, into a half-sitting position, my butt on the edge. Kneeling in front of me again, he spread my legs and began tonguing me again, his hands holding my hips and ass. He licked the joint of my thigh, moving slowly inward, finally reaching my opening and plunging inside. He tongue-fucked me until I was writhing and groaning under him, my respiration shallow and harsh.
“Oh, yes, sweetheart, you like that, don’t you?” He paused. I opened my eyes and saw him watching me. I nodded and arched upward, half insane with pleasure and desire. “Do you like this?” He bent forward and this time, he ran his tongue over and around my clit.
“Oh, god, oh god, oh, oh, OOOOOHHHH…” I groaned and gave myself over completely to the ecstasy. He began sucking then, his lips soft on me, and I began coming in a slow, drawn out way, contracting and rising into his touch, each spasm taking me to a deeper level of release.
I was unaware he’d opened his pants until I felt the head of his cock pushing into me. I continued coming around it, and he went deep, hard, still kneeling. He raised me and moved me closer to him, his penetrations total and lingering. He threw his head back and increased his rhythm until he was pounding me frantically. Suddenly, he jerked and went still, then thrust so deeply I screamed in mingled pain and passion. I could feel his cock throbbing and spilling within me, and I sought to open myself even wider, to let him take me even deeper, utterly, completely. It was only afterwards, as we lay tangled together, half on and half off the small couch, that I realized I had cried.

Later, as we sat curled together on the couch watching a movie, he said, “You’re not just some woman, you know. This means something.”
His arm was around my shoulders, his hand resting on my breast. I reached up and held it. “I know,” I said. We watched in silence, whiling away the hours of our last day together. When we went to bed that night, he held me, then we rocked together in long, slow, tender lovemaking until we both melted into one another. We slept the sleep of lovers, and parted the next morning with a brief but sweet kiss. He had to get back to work, I had to get home to Pussykins.
We talked about meeting again soon, and maybe that will happen. I don’t know where this is heading or where it will end up. Probably nowhere, nowhere but here, and that has to be enough. I know that. In the meantime, if my phone rings, I will answer it.
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The Long Weekend (Talk Dirty to Me, cont.)