Rock All Night

101




So, amidst all the hot and heavy memories, there were at least a couple that stood out because they were unpleasant.

But there was one that was freakin’ awesome. And really, really unusual. And didn’t involve psychedelic mushrooms.

We were in Salt Lake City at the time. I remember that because ‘the Mormons’ figured prominently in the conversation.

The day after the performance, Derek and I decided to strike out and go see the Great Salt Lake. After a day of band practice, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. We left the hotel around 7 o’clock in the evening and drove the Mercedes convertible he’d bought in Irvine.


The Mercedes had become the bane of Miles’s existence, because it was one more thing to be taken care of. Crew members had to be assigned to drive it behind the tour bus as we moved from city to city, and then park it somewhere safe overnight. You never heard the crew members complain – hey, they got to drive a ‘69 Mercedes – but Miles was always super-pissed.

“Thank you so f*ckin’ much for makin’ me the babysitter for your impulse f*ckin’ decisions,” Miles barked one afternoon. “Not that you don’t make my life f*ckin’ hard enough already.”

“What do I pay you 15 percent for?” Derek taunted him. “You certainly don’t do anything else to earn it.”

Which turned into another memorable confrontation.

But today I was thankful, because we were tooling around with the top down, the hot sun warming our skin and the wind whipping through our hair. In case you’re wondering, the sun doesn’t set in Salt Lake City in the summertime until around 9:00. Whether it’s a quirk of the altitude or where the city lies in the time zone, it was still plenty bright and plenty warm at 8 o’clock at night.

On the off chance we actually went swimming in the lake – at up to 25% salt concentrations, you were supposed to be able to float in it like the Dead Sea, which I kind of wanted to try – I made him stop and let me buy a black bikini at Target. I wore it out of the store, underneath my regular blouse and skirt, and we set back off down the road.

We weren’t near the water yet, but it was pretty damn warm, so I unbuttoned my blouse and let the sunshine and wind play over my skin not covered by the bikini top.

Derek couldn’t stop looking at me. We’d had a fight the day before, and hadn’t had sex in almost 48 hours – which was a new record. But now he was absolutely enthralled.

And I was eating it up. It was just me and him, and I was soaking up the attention like it was sunshine after a long, cold winter.

“You better start watching the road instead of me,” I teased him, “or you’re going to crash.”

“I’m not going to crash,” he said, though he returned his eyes to the road – for about ten seconds. Then he glanced back over at my boobs.

We weren’t in much danger. We were on a small local road, not on the interstate. The suburbs and restaurant chains had given way to farmland, with cows and horses and wide-open fields. And there were almost no cars, with none behind or ahead of us, and only one or two going in the opposite direction.

While keeping his eyes on the road, he reached over and caressed the side of my breast. Let the back of his fingers play over the curve, lightly touching my skin.

Mmmm.

But I wasn’t giving it away that easily.

“Stop,” I said, playfully smacking away his hand. “The Mormons are watching.”

“I’ll bet they are,” he grinned. “You’re corrupting them as we speak.”

He reached back over and lightly caressed the front of my bikini top.

My nipple grew hard beneath the fabric.

Unnnhhh…

This time I didn’t bat his hand away.

He cupped my breast in his palm, then slipped his fingertips beneath the top. Lightly circled the nipple, and squeezed it softly between his fingers.

Two could play at that game.

I looked over at his lap, deciding how best to torture him – and got a little surprise. He was already getting hard… except his cock was trapped along the inside of his pants leg. It made a wonderfully enticing bulge stretching a third of the way down his thigh.

I reached across and put my hand on the leg of his jeans, then started to stroke the outline of his cock. Within seconds he was even harder and thicker, with an even more pronounced outline as it strained against his jeans.

“Oh, that is so not fair,” he complained as he grabbed my boob a little tighter.

“You’re touching me.”

“Yeah, but you’re not at a horrible angle,” he groaned. “My dick feels like it’s going to break off.”

My fingers moved down to his crotch, and I let my fingernails glide across the cloth. I could feel the vibrations as they played over the natural weave of the denim, tickling his balls beneath.

“Do you want me to stop?” I purred.

“No… Jesus, no…” he moaned, his eyes fixed on the road.

“I don’t think the Mormons would approve of you taking the Lord’s name in vain,” I teased.

“I don’t think they would approve of what you’re doing, either.”

“Okay,” I said, and let my hand pull away slowly across his thigh.

He instantly stopped touching my breast and trapped my hand under his.

“Don’t stop,” he said huskily.

I smiled and began rubbing his cock through the leg of his jeans again… putting my thumb and forefinger on either side of his thick shaft, gliding up and down his entire length. I could even feel the ridge of his head through the cloth, he was so hard.

After another minute of doing that, I noticed that a little wet spot had appeared on the denim over the head of his cock.

Oh my God, I thought. He’s so turned on, his pre-cum is soaking through his jeans.

That was nothing compared to how wet my bikini bottom was under my own skirt, though – and I got even more turned on when I noticed his wet spot.

“You might want to stop for a minute,” he croaked, his voice even lower and more animalistic than normal.

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to have an audience.”

I had been looking at the outline of his cock so intently that I hadn’t even noticed what was going on around us. When I lifted my eyes, I saw that the road was approaching a tiny shack on the horizon.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“The guardhouse, I think.”

And so it was. I buttoned up my blouse as Derek edged the Mercedes up to the traffic gate.

A woman came out dressed in a park ranger’s uniform. “Welcome to Antelope Island State Park,” she said brightly. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

Derek handed over the money, and she gave him a brochure and receipt in exchange. “Be sure to put that on your dash if you leave your car to go hiking.”

The entire time, I kept wondering two things: would she recognize Derek? And would she notice the rather sizeable bulge in his jeans?

Apparently she didn’t realize who he was, because she didn’t say anything. And I guess the car door was blocking her view of his lap, because she didn’t do a double-take or linger for a better look, either.

“The park closes shortly after sundown. If you get caught out there on the island after dark, though, don’t worry, you can just drive back up to the gate. It’ll open automatically. Have a nice visit!”

And then we were through.

A long, two-lane road that looked more like a bridge stretched off into the distance – as in, miles into the distance. On either side of the road was a small slope of scrub brush and sand that descended to white salt flats, which stretched for thousands of feet until they finally met water.

A half-mile away on the right, a reddish-orange mountain rose up from the lake, its reflection like a double image in a mirror. Beyond the mountain, the setting sun was turning the entire sky into a rosy haze.

The whole place looked like an alien landscape – pretty and serene, but harsh and alien at the same time.

As soon as the car was about two hundred feet down the bridge, Derek stopped the car and hurriedly unbuckled and unzipped his pants. He was goin’ commando – no boxers.


“What are you doing?!” I asked.

I looked around in alarm, but the guardhouse was far enough behind us that the ranger couldn’t see – and there were no cars nearby at all.

In answer, he tugged down his jeans and extricated his poor cock from its prison. Despite my nervousness at being discovered, I watched greedily as his shaft popped free of the zipper and jutted straight up towards the sky.

It was slightly red from its ordeal, and more swollen than I’d seen it in a long time.

And the head was wet and glistening with his own juices.

I soooo wanted to touch it.

Derek leaned his head back against the headrest and let out a tortured sigh. “Oh my God… I thought it was going to snap off…”

“Poor baby… you want me to make it feel better?” I cooed.

Before he could answer, I reached over and put my hand around his cock, feeling his skin hot and wet and slick against my palm.

He gasped and looked at me. I was sure his eyes were wide, though they were hidden behind his sunglasses.

I formed an ‘O’ with my thumb and fingers and slowly moved it over his bulging head, spreading his wetness down his thick shaft, then slowly stroking back up. His cock pulsed in my hand, contracting once, hard, in a mini-orgasm – and another bead of clear liquid welled up from the slit in the tip.

He groaned in agonized ecstasy as I slid my thumb through the pre-cum and circled it over his head, back and forth, getting him wetter and wetter. I could feel the ridge of his crown under my thumb, nice and firm. I eased my hand down his entire shaft again, feeling the veins and the contours, until I touched the soft thatch of his hair. I slowly went up, then down, once, twice, three times, until his cock was as wet as if he’d just withdrawn it from my p-ssy.

Actually, no, his cock would have been a lot wetter if he’d done that, because I was drenched.

“Maybe you should drive,” I whispered as I moved my hand slowly up his cock… then back down… my wet, slick skin gently gliding over his.

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, and took his foot off the brake. We started down the road again, and passed far enough away from the guardhouse that no one could see us at all.

I kept stroking him, and he kept having little one-off contractions, his swollen head getting just a little bit bigger, and more pre-cum leaking out. I went slow as before, though – and held him even looser, just barely making contact with my fingers, letting his wetness be the sensual bond between his skin and mine.

“Take off your seatbelt and get closer,” he ordered, though his voice still sounded like a croak.

“Why?” I smiled, stroking him slowly up… letting my fingers and thumb expand over his huge head… then pausing… before slowly moving back down.

“Just do it,” he said, his voice ragged with desire.

I used my free hand to undo the buckle, then scooted over as far as I could. The car had bucket seats, so it wasn’t like I could get too close – but I apparently got close enough.

He reached over, pulled my blouse out of my skirt, then feverishly slid his hand between the waistline and my stomach. Then he pushed down further, into my bikini bottom.

I gasped as he slid through my landing strip, then found the wetness between my thighs. The tip of his middle finger began rubbing up and down over my hood, around my *, slipping and sliding over my soaked flesh. I tried to keep enough presence of mind to continue massaging his cock, which strained and bucked in my hand – but I would invariably stop stroking as waves of pleasure and desire rolled over me, across me, through me. Then I would come to my senses and slide up and down his shaft again, until I was overcome by ecstasy once more.

The tip of his finger slid inside me – just a centimeter or two – and I moaned. Loud.

As soon as I did, he growled, “I have to f*ck you.”

“How… far to the island?” I gasped. It seemed like forever: the guardhouse had long since disappeared in the distance, and the road seemed to stretch on eternally between the salt flats. I didn’t know if I could wait that long. I wanted him inside me now.

“F*ck the island,” he said as he moved the wheel to the right, and suddenly we were rattling and bumping down the incline and through the scrub brush.

I screamed – this time from fright, not from pleasure – as we zoomed down the slope, then finally leveled off and hit the salt flats.

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, what are you doing?!” I screamed.

“Driving it like it’s stolen,” he grinned.

“Where are you going?!”

“Someplace private.”

“We can’t do this!”

“Yeah we can. I’m doing it.”

I looked behind us as the road receded in the distance. Behind us, our tires carved out parallel lines in the salt and sand.

“You can’t – unnnnhhhhhh,” I moaned as his wet finger slipped once, twice, three times over my swollen *. When my thighs had stopped quivering, I snapped, “That’s not fair!”

“You can go back to what you were doing any time you want.”

“You’re going to – unnnhhh – ” (more wet firmness sliding over my *) “ – get us arrested!”

“Do you see any cops?”

I looked back behind us. The road was no longer visible, much less any cars.

“…no…”

I could barely speak, let alone think, he was stroking me so wetly, so softly, underneath my bikini bottom.

“Then we’re good.”

“…they could still see our tracks… somebody could tell the park ranger…”

“Then we’re going to have to hurry, aren’t we?”

“Hurry what?”

“F*cking each other’s brains out,” he growled.

I know I said before that I missed tenderness and sensuality…

…but right then, f*cking his brains out sounded like the most wonderful thing in the universe.

Still, though, my law-abiding terror wouldn’t let up.

“Well, somebody will see us! Oh God…” (more slipping and sliding over my *)

“I didn’t see anybody for miles.”

“But… but…”

I stopped talking and just whimpered as he stroked me, slid inside me, caressed me, made my p-ssy throb with need. “…you’re not playing fair…”

“I never said I did.”

“…I can’t think when you’re doing that…”

“So quit thinking.”

As he kept making me shudder with ecstasy, I looked down at his pants. His cock was still jutting straight up… it looked so gorgeous… so big and thick and pink…

So he doesn’t care about getting arrested?

Fine. Neither do I.

I reached down and started stroking him again. Slowly. Then a little faster. Feeling how thick he was in my hand, between my fingers.

“Oh God,” he groaned, and I felt his fingers quiver over my *.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear:

“When are you going to f*ck my brains out?”

“Now,” he grunted, and slowed the car to a stop.

Then he reached over, grabbed my waist, and hauled me like a rag doll through the air, me shrieking and giggling, until I was straddled on top of him.

“Wait, wait – ”

“I know, I know – condom,” he said, his voice darkly humorous as he took his hands off my waist and dug in his jeans pocket.

While I waited, I took off his sunglasses and threw them on the dash. I wanted to see his eyes while we were f*cking each other’s brains out.


Then I reached down and stroked his cock – and watched, slightly nervous, for any signs of flashing blue lights in the distance.

But there was nothing. The road itself was nothing more than a tiny line in the distance.

I heard the tearing of paper, and I looked down in time to see him place the latex circle over the tip of his head. I took my hand away and watched, mesmerized, as he rolled it down the length of his shaft, all the way to the base.

“Okay,” he grunted, and then he reached up, shoved my skirt up around my waist, moved the bikini to the side (just like before, in the hotel room) and then put his hands on my hips to force me down on him – quick, deep, wet, and thick.

“Oh my GOD!” I screamed – this time from pleasure, not panic, as he filled me up so quickly I almost came just from his tremendous girth sliding deep inside me.

Five seconds later, we went at it like we were insane.

He grunted like a beast as he bucked his hips up under me, sliding in and out, filling me up. I started moaning like an animal, too, as he f*cked me, hard, slamming into me, rocking, stroking me deep inside – and then I started f*cking him back, using him like a f*cktoy, a thing for my own pleasure and nothing else. I rotated my hips, feeling him swirl inside me, feeling his cock hard and wet against my lips, slipping up his entire length and then pounding back down, over and over. I rubbed my * against his abs, grinding it against his muscular body, angling myself so that I could feel the most intensity, his cock straining and pressing deep inside me as my * buzzed and throbbed with pleasure.

Then, suddenly, he was ripping apart my blouse.

Buttons popped and went everywhere as he tore it open.

“HEY!” I yelled, momentarily taken out of my bliss.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he rumbled, and then he was pulling aside the triangle of fabric over my left breast, and his mouth found my nipple and sucked on it, hard, and I couldn’t have given a damn about my blouse anymore. Or my bikini bottom when he ripped that off, too.

I wanted more skin on skin, though, and so I reached down and pulled his t-shirt off, then flung it in the back seat. I broke his rhythm the tiniest bit, but then he was back at it, rocking deep inside me, and now I could run my hands over his muscled shoulders, his incredible chest.

I flung my head back, my hair whipping behind me, as I arched my chest towards him. He tore the bikini top off, switching wetly from one nipple to the other, yet still f*cking me hard, and deep, and thick, his hands clutching powerfully at my ass, his palms cupping my cheeks, his fingertips touching me, pressing against my drenched lips, my a*shole, the soaked skin between, and he was so thick and so hard and so big inside me and I was so totally out of control, so alive, so on fire that suddenly I was coming, shrieking and not even aware of the sound I was making, as my whole body slammed down on him again and again. I heard him bellow, and for a split second his cock was even bigger and thicker, and then I felt it bigger and thicker again, and I was so tight and wet around him as we came together, his swollen bursts filling me up even more, doubling my pleasure, my insanity, until he gradually stopped rocking inside me.

I collapsed against his chest, my hair draped over him, our sweaty bodies pressed tight together, our breathing heavy and gasping and matched with each other. I still felt him inside me, the last pulses of his orgasm dying out with my own, his cock still hard and thick and wonderful. Then we both lay still in each other’s arms, my legs straddling him, my breasts against his bare chest, his breath against my skin, and nothing else existing in the world but the two of us.

We sat like that for a few moments, me straddling him, our bodies pressed together, slowly coming back to reality. Far beyond us, the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the sky on fire – the way we had been on fire.

“Holy shit,” Derek breathed out, barely above a whisper. “I think you almost killed me, that was so good.”

My only answer was to kiss him.

After a few minutes we disentangled ourselves, and I sat back in my seat. For some reason, I felt a sadness I had never experienced before. It wasn’t deep or intense, but almost… nostalgic. For a few seconds, I had felt like a live wire – I had experienced what it was like to be truly alive –

…and now it was gone.

I ached to have it back.

Despite my sexual epiphany, though, I hadn’t become some entirely different person. I made Derek wait until it was dark until we drove back to the road, with our lights off, until we made it to the incline and up onto the asphalt.

We never got caught. Never even saw another car the entire time.

But we never made it to our destination, either.

No, that’s wrong; we never made it to the island.

But I think we hit the destination we were both aiming for – the one we had been searching for going on four years. Something beyond just ordinary sex.

Something transcendental.

Unfortunately, we never made it back there again, either.

After all was said and done, I’m glad I didn’t know that was the end of the road for us. Not the end end, but the end of whatever we’d had up until that point. If I’d known what lay ahead, I might have been so upset I couldn’t have enjoyed that moment with him, that instant of being totally, completely alive.

Or, who knows… I might have savored it even more.