Road Trip - The Western States

The story of Jim Mellon’s amazing and erotic journey across America

by Robert Wolf

Book Three in the Road Trip Trilogy

1988 Harley Davidson Heritage Softail

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Skinny Leopard Media book published in arrangement with the author.

Published by Skinny Leopard Media, Sarasota, FL

Copyright© 2013-2024 by Robert Wolf

Photography is Copyright©2013-2024 by Robert Wolf

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the express written permission of the author is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. Permissions may be sought by emailing your request to bob@roadtripnovels.com.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013954816

ISBN: 978-0-9911906-4-5

Prologue

This story continues the saga of Jim Mellon who started his motorcycle journey across the country to shed his grief over the loss of his young wife. To his surprise, Jim continued to meet attractive women who he developed relationships with, and who helped transform his life. He reconnected with Kim, who helped him resolve some of the issues he had been struggling with along his journey, including his new sexuality, his love of more than one woman, feelings about his sister, and sexual things his late wife did before they met but that she never shared with him.

The singer Crystal Lee also reconnected with him and the two toured together through Illinois and Missouri. While in Branson, Jim, Crystal, Ellen - Crystal’s sister, and Terry - Jim’s agent, skinny dipped together and had a foursome on the back of a boat docked on a lake. Bart Kenesis, a paparazzi photographer, caught the now famous couple and their friends on camera in this compromising situation; however, Jim saw what was happening but before he could stop it the photographer got away.

Jim took some drastic steps to recover the photos, a move that enraged Kenesis and turned him into a stalker and a dangerous threat. Jim returned to his motorcycle journey across the country, aiming for his sister’s home in San Diego. The women in Jim’s life continued their transformation of his values and life, particularly in several group sex situations that culminated at a party after a debutante’s ball in Oklahoma. Jim continued to find opportunities to play hero, rescuing a woman who had fallen off a cliff to a dangerous ledge, and helping another woman through a devastating tornado.

Chapter 1 - Texas

Crystal bounded into the living room of the suite I’d found reserved for us at the Four Seasons when I arrived the evening before; she launched herself into my arms. I caught her without falling over, and we hugged and kissed each other over and over. Behind her, a hotel bellhop slowly removed her luggage and one of her guitars from a cart, piling up things in one corner of the spacious living room.

As I hugged her, I told Crystal, “I have missed you so. Somehow, we’ve got to see each other more often than every few weeks. I think we’ve even been lucky so far with our schedules.”

Crystal kissed me passionately, “Me too. We need to figure out a way to be famous and for you to take the rest of your road trip. We’ll talk about it later, after I fuck your brains out.”

The bellhop looked highly interested at Crystal’s words, but dutifully stood by the luggage and his empty cart trying to keep his gaze off of us as we fawned over each other. Finally, I took the hint. I pulled a twenty from my wallet and gave it to him. I got a big smile, and he backed out of the room clearly hoping to catch another scene of us kissing before he pulled the door closed.

Crystal turned to me and said, “Come and make love to me. Before we do another thing, I have wanted you physically and spiritually and in every other way I could think of since we left Branson.” She tugged me to the bedroom that opened onto the living room, and that I had obviously used the night before. Another bedroom also shared the space on the other side of the suite. Did someone foolishly think we’d sleep apart? We were known in the press to be an ‘item’ ever since the day I first met Crystal.

I helped Crystal dispose of her boots and clothing. Just for kicks, she put her western boots back on and posed for me in front of the fake fireplace in the room. I took her picture with my cell phone - a little memento for our next time apart.

I then pulled Crystal to the middle of the bed, we knelt, and I made oral love to her breasts for a while. As I did, Crystal started to undress me with a sense of urgency. I quickly stripped the rest of my clothing off, and in seconds, my cock was embedded deep inside Crystal’s warmth. I thought how l felt loved and at ‘home’ with Crystal, even though I felt homeless and a vagabond during my road trip. Home was being with someone I loved.

We were eager, impatient even, to bring each other pleasure. Remarkably, we restrained ourselves and played for over an hour, each of us occasionally enjoying an orgasm, until I decided to do a ‘big cum’ into her folds. We synchronized our peaks, and so Crystal went to her heaven as I went to mine and left my essence inside her.

After we had floated down to a more normal physiological state, Crystal pushed me off and sucked me clean. As she finished, she kissed the tip of my penis. She asked, “And how many pussies has Mr. Happy been in since we last fucked? You had a typo in your email about Oklahoma; it made me laugh - you said you fucked thirty-five women. What was it, three or five?” She laughed, and started to masturbate me. I responded well to her ministrations.

I grinned at her and said, “Nope, that wasn’t a typo.”

Crystal’s jaw dropped open. She said, “Surely, you jest.” She jabbed me in the ribs, “Come on, give! Details!” She asked, “What’d you do, fuck a whole sorority?” She laughed, and I took that as a good sign, or at least a sign that my ass wasn’t grass for getting deep into my ‘man slut’ role again and fucking so many women - most in one night.

I told her, “No, just most of debutantes at a party in Oklahoma celebrating their coming out, plus a few others - alumni of similar parties in past years.”

Crystal was smiling now. “Oh, great! Now, you’d better tell me all the hot, erotic details.”

I spent a half hour telling her about the Fine Arts Ball, Heather, the debutantes, the alumni, and the orgy they had after the formal ball. I described particularly the round robin fuck sessions in some of the hotel rooms, and told her that was how I’d built up my ‘numbers.’ As we talked, the two of us enjoyed a slow fuck.

After that, I passed along more details about my visit to Jed’s home in Iowa, and being with Sally, Gail, Lena, Nicky, and Camille. I shared a few new points about Brite, the photographer in Minnesota, plus Mitch and Ashley’s wedding pictures -- and about the foursome we shared.”

Crystal said, “And then you went to the Dakotas, and ran into that tornado?”

I reminded her about my ‘concert’ and one-night stand with Shaye, the few days with Mils and Connie, and then Midge in Kansas.

Crystal suddenly said with surprise, “Hey, you mean you didn’t get laid in Nebraska?”

“Nope,” I shook my head.

She punched me. “Well, you are really slacking off. You missed a state. You’d better not do that again. I have high expectations for you, Lover.” She laughed, but pumped her hips into my groin a few times, each thrust burying my dick deeper and deeper into her already sodden pussy.

Crystal gave me a shy look, and then began telling me about how she had sex with two guys at a bar she worked at before she became famous, detailing how she got seduced, how she got past the idea there were two guys, and then the pleasures they showered on her body for eight hours until they all had to sleep from exhaustion.

---

Hours later, Crystal and I sat in the large living room of the suite. We’d dressed, and she wore her western boots, the shortest Daisy Duke shorts in the world, and a loose man’s shirt tied in a knot beneath her breasts. My God, she looked sexy. I tried to concentrate on something other than sex as she talked, and that after nearly three hours of non-stop sex.

Crystal told me what she knew about the half-time concert we were to give on Sunday to eighty thousand Dallas Cowboys fans crowded into Cowboy Stadium. My knees shook, and my stomach knotted over the crowd size and the potential for embarrassing myself. She told me the band had arrived and were staying closer to the stadium, because they’d reserved a special room at their hotel to rehearse - something about perfect acoustics. Terry and Ellen were due the next day, and that they would be occupying the other bedroom in our suite.

Crystal and I were the half-time entertainment, singing our two hits and a medley of other country music songs. As the first half ended and the teams left the field, the stadium crew would race into action, creating a stage on the field in fewer than two minutes. Band instruments, props, and lights would be added, plus a large stairway. Crystal’s band would take their places and launch into the opening bars of ‘Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl,’ Crystal’s big hit, that still held onto a place in the Top Ten. Crystal and I would arrive at the stage seconds behind the band; she’d sing most of that hit, and then we’d segue into ‘Texas Dawn.’ We’d perform all of that song, and then do the medley - something that we’d have to spend some time rehearsing. We had to pick what we’d do before Friday, so everyone connected with the show would know - us, the band, the stage crew, the lighting crew, sound crew, and on and on. As we finished, there’d be fireworks over the stadium, Crystal and I would wave and race off stage, followed by the band members. The roadies would strip away the instruments, amps, and stage, and the second half of the football game would start exactly thirty minutes after the first half ended.

We ran through the schedule a couple of times, talking our way through the steps we’d go through until we’d internalized what the twenty-six-minute halftime would be like for us.

Crystal said, “What songs should we do in the medley after our openers? What would you like to sing?”

I went to one of my saddlebags from the motorcycle, and pulled out my laptop and some crumpled pieces of paper that had somehow managed to survive through the tornado in Kansas.

I turned to Crystal, “I’ve been writing music in my spare time. I don’t know whether it’s any good, but I’d love to play it for you. I think it’d be a good duet. It’d need a few words of introduction in the stadium, particularly since no one would have heard it before and the song has a real American Indian flavor to it. If you don’t like it, I can save it for something I do alone some other time.”

Crystal urged me to sing the song so she could see what it was all about. I picked up my small travel guitar, adjusted the strings, and then started in on the song I’d written, ‘The Wolf On Lone Wolf Mountain’ starting with the chorus: “There’s a wolf on Lone Wolf Mountain, Keeps me awake most every night. He leads me along the paths, To places I need to go.”

Crystal seemed spellbound during my short song. When it was over, she came and kissed me in a very tender way. “Jim, you have talent at this. I love it. May I sing this with you?”

I nodded and said, “That was my hope. You mean you like it?”

Crystal kissed me and said, “Absolutely. It’s great, and about time we got some Native American flavor to some of our repertoire.”

We messed around with the song for an hour, changed the key as well as few words and notes so we could blend our voice better as we sang. Our duet sounded better and better. We agreed we should get other opinions, for instance from Terry, about the song.

---

Thursday morning, Crystal and I rode my motorcycle to Cowboy Stadium for a rehearsal and to familiarize us with the set and surroundings. She knew that a dry run for the set-up crew had been scheduled for ten o’clock. Crystal and I seemed unusually bubbly and excited about the day, a point I chalked up to us being together again.

Stadium security let us ride the Harley right into the arena, with the admonition to stay off the playing surface. I parked at the end of the tunnel just at the edge of the field. A few Dallas Cowboy players were warming up, loosely running plays without any hard physical contact.

A golf cart came down the sideline at us as we walked towards the fifty-yard line. I broke into a smile as I recognized one of the two people in the cart - Tina Devoe, a woman I’d given a first-class sexual massage to at a spa in Michigan about two months earlier. She got out of the cart with an older man who I didn’t know. As introductions were made Tina gave me a lip lock and kiss that melted some of the Astroturf around the two of us. Just before we parted, Tina whispered in my ear, “I want us to get together while we’re here - and you know what I mean!” Just the thought of that activity gave me a twinge in my nether region.

Crystal looked amused. Tina was about fifty, looked thirty, oozed sex appeal, and had a body that movie stars would die for. I noticed some of the crew and band members leering at her. She wore tight jeans that left little to the imagination, spike heels - my favorite, and a designer top that had apparently been designed to reveal almost all of the wearer’s generous tits. Tina had generous tits; I knew firsthand - I’d massaged them until Tina had an orgasm.

As our kiss broke, Crystal grinned and said, “I knew you guys would like to see each other again. This is a treat to meet one of your Michigan ‘acquaintances.’”

Since I’d met her, we’d discovered that Tina Devoe had a job ‘high up’ in Sony Entertainment. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I suspected she’d fast-tracked the release of my music album entitled ‘Road Trip’ from Sony music. The album had been available online and in stores for a couple of weeks. Tina congratulated me on my album breaking into the top ten in that short time period, something I didn’t know. Some duets with Crystal were also on the album.

Alan Roswell, the gentleman who had ridden up with Tina, turned out to be responsible for the half-time entertainment on behalf of the Dallas Cowboys, who managed the stadium for the City of Arlington - the stadium owners. About sixty years of age, he wore glasses with coke bottle lenses and sported a short gray ponytail. I thought he might be gay, since - unlike every other male in sight - he displayed little interest in either Tina or Crystal’s hot bodies.

Alan walked us through his expectations for the halftime show, a description that meshed perfectly with what Crystal had told me the previous afternoon. He’d called for a dry run by the roadies and some of our band members so they could assess the set up of the mid-field stage and all that went into having the show ready to launch in a matter of seconds after the game stopped at half time.

About that time, twenty young men and women between the ages of twenty and thirty walked out from one of the tunnels giving access to the field. They all wore silver t-shirts with the blue Cowboy’s star and the word ‘Crew’ on the back in large letters. Three of the men in the group came over and joined us; Alan informed us they were squad leaders. Alan had a few words with them, and then they started with their rehearsal.

Crystal, Tina, and I watched as the three squads maneuvered several portable platforms in front of the stands, behind where the Cowboys players’ bench stood. Alan nodded to them, blew a shrill whistle, started a stopwatch, and the crew went into motion.

Sections of the stage poured onto the field from the sidelines. Some were carried, and others were on large dollies. The squads moved at a run. Vertical sections were flipped over, legs dropped, and somehow in seconds a large stage materialized before our eyes. From one of the tunnels a large wide-tired forklift truck appeared carrying an eight-foot square platform with the band’s amps, keyboards, and a drum set, ready to play except for the electrical hookups. The platform was set atop part of the newly erected stage, and the forklift folded over and neatly tucked itself beneath the stage. One crewmember brought an electrical cable from the sidelines to the stage and in one single move connected the stage to the stadium for power and sound.

As the crew ran off the field, a couple of our band members hustled up the newly erected stairs onto the stage, and pulled their instruments into position from the large pallet. Seconds later, I heard the opening bars to ‘Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl.’

Beside us, Alan clicked his watch to a stop, glanced at the dial, and yelled to the sidelines, “Yes! Wonderful everyone. That took two minutes eight seconds - a record. If you can do this Sunday, we’ll all be very happy.” The crew looked proud, and clearly valued his praise. I saw several give each other high fives.

Alan turned to us and said with a smile, “OK, get up there. Try it out.”

Crystal and I ran across the field, up the stairs, and onto the stage. I looked around and nearly froze. Suddenly, I imagined eighty thousand fans yelling and cheering in the stands - looking at me. They were eighty thousand critics. I felt my knees shake again. I wasn’t used to this stuff.

Crystal picked up our wireless mics, and handed one to me. She broke into the opening bars of ‘Flirty Cowgirl.’ I waited and tried to get into the music. About three minutes later, I heard the band segue to ‘Texas Dawn.’ I moved up beside Crystal, and we started the duet. My voice cracked, and the echo around the stadium made me stutter and pause awkwardly. I tried to focus on the music, and things got a little bit better, but it wasn’t a stellar performance - Crystal carried the day.

We took a break in our singing after ‘Texas Dawn.’ Crystal insisted to Alan that we both get fitted with a headset that blocked the delayed sound so I could only hear my own voice and not the confusing reverberations in the stadium. I’d worn one like that at the two concerts I’d given a couple of months earlier, and had done all right. Alan made a cell phone call, and in five minutes a young woman came racing across the field with the requisite headsets.

While we’d waited for the headset, Crystal and I had walked the band through the music I envisioned for the song I wrote, ‘The Wolf on Lone Wolf Mountain.’ As I put the headset on, Clark Reynolds, the lead guitar player, said, “Hey, let’s try this new one, and see how close we can get on it.” There were a few test cords and transitions the band tinkered with, as I sang a verse here and there without the amplification to give them a taste of the song.

Clark flicked a dozen switches on his mixer, and my new headset went ‘live’; and the band started the introduction to my song. Crystal and I were both playing acoustic guitars. The two of us sang the new song, and much to everyone’s amazement the rendition turned out well given it was the first time through for the band. Some of the crewmembers who had waited for the tear down trial applauded and shouted their appreciation for the song. After that song, Crystal and I did a few others with the band working them into a medley. Gradually, I got used to performing in the large stadium, a luxury I hadn’t had at the other two large venues I’d sung at previously. That said, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when it was full of fans.

Alan coached us about how the last song should end, including the pyrotechnics. We ran off the field, and Alan again timed the crew in the tear down activities. The stage disappeared with the same speed it had appeared.

On the sidelines, Tina cornered the two of us; “Where’d that song about the wolf come from; I loved it. It touched me in an interesting way - it has roots with Native Americans, yet it’s mystic and had a message. I like it.”

Crystal stood tall, turned to me, and announced to Tina, “Jim just wrote it. He’s got yet another talent we didn’t know about.” Then Crystal looked at Tina and grinned like a proud mother.

Tina asked about recording the song so they could release it as a single. I started to answer, and Crystal jumped in and said that our agent, Terry, needed to be in such a discussion. I’d just learned something, so nodded wisely, and Tina apologized for any breach of protocol.

I got interested in part of the sound system and the stage set up, so I wandered around with Alan asking questions. Tina and Crystal seemed to bond quickly, and soon were having a hushed conversation. They frequently looked up and gestured in my direction, often with conspiratorial looks. Twenty minutes later, when I returned to the pair, Crystal said, “I told Tina I knew all about the massage you’d given her when you met in Michigan. I also told her about some of our sexual games and adventures, and our little adventure with the paparazzi in Missouri and the romp with your sister-in-law. I even told her that you liked fucking my sister almost as much as me.” She gave me an evil grin, and so did Tina as she joined us. “We’ve been comparing notes … notes about your sexual prowess. Now, doesn’t that turn you on?”

It did, and I could tell the two of them had made themselves horny too.

As if the thought had made the individuals materialize, Terry and Ellen walked out of one of the portals onto the field. They saw us, waved, and hustled over to us. I made introductions, going so far as to catch Terry’s eye and try to signal to him behind Tina’s back that Tina was an important person for us. He remembered that Tina was an executive with Sony Entertainment, and an influential person regarding the promotion of our music.

Ellen gave me a sensual kiss and full-frontal hug with hip thrusts. She bluntly whispered in my ear that she wanted some ‘cock time’ with me. I could feel my erection trying to escape.

After the stage tear-down exercise, Alan announced to us that a buffet lunch had been laid out for everyone in one of the sky boxes; he pointed ‘up’ towards the stratosphere in the stadium.

The eight members of the band, Tina, Terry, Ellen, Crystal, and I followed Alan through the maze of corridors under the stadium to some elevators that whisked us up to the sky boxes. A buffet table had been set up in one of them, and we filed into the attractive wood paneled room for lunch. A row of high stools sat against a counter that looked down on the field for an unparalleled view of every bit of the action. Several sexy ‘stewardesses’ were in the skybox to help with anything we needed, according to Alan. During the conversation, I learned that the skyboxes are usually corporate rentals: a twenty-year lease with thirty skybox season tickets netted the stadium forty million dollars! My jaw dropped open at the cost.

I watched as Terry and Tina got into deep conversations. Initially, I thought it was about our music and recording new tracks, but then I watched as the two started to place their hands in strategic locations as they talked in increasingly hushed tones. Tina’s hand would stroke up Terry’s thigh. Terry’s fingers stroked up Tina’s arm, wandering slightly to the sides of her full breasts. The both looked content at their interactions. Everybody seemed to be getting horny, yet there was work to be done.

We rehearsed with the band in the afternoon. We felt comfortable with the various songs we chose, started to iron out the transitions in the medley, and took a large step to getting the one I’d written ready for prime time. Alan arranged for drinks and dinner at the Four Seasons. After a long and busy afternoon, we had cocktails and ate outside on the patio at the hotel.

After dinner as we left the table, Tina pulled me aside; “Jim, I’m in that room over there just off the pool, why don’t you come by in a few minutes?” This blatant offer of sex had much appeal. I now had three women who wanted ‘cock time,’ and I wasn’t sure how to respond to Tina’s offer, particularly after I knew that Crystal and she had a revealing conversation about our sexual predilections. I had started bumbling my indecisive reply when Crystal appeared at my side. She turned to Tina and said in a low voice to Tina, “Terry, Ellen, and I are having a little party after the party in our suite; I think you two would really like it. It’d give you and Jim the opportunity to get to really ‘connect’ with each other again - really well, plus you could share your assets in a group setting. Do you enjoy group settings?” Crystal winked at Tina.

Tina smiled and said, “Oh, this sounds like so much fun. Let’s get started.”

I offered my arms to Crystal and Tina. We strolled from the large patio to our suite.

---

Tina fit right in with the four of us. We started on the bed with me fucking Tina as Crystal sat on her face and got eaten. Terry and Ellen were in a sixty-nine next to us so that I could watch Terry eating Ellen’s sweet pussy and get whiffs of her sexual aromas. They were making all sorts of erotic slurping noises that proved to me that a lot of body fluids were involved in their good sex. Our next ‘configuration’ involved me deep inside Ellen as she ate Tina’s cunt. Terry rammed into Crystal’s pussy from behind as she unsuccessfully tried to also eat Tina’s twat. Eventually, Crystal succeeded, and at one point, I could also lean over Ellen and tongue Tina’s clit along with Crystal. A lot of moaning and groaning went on.

The living room had a large round table whose top rotated like a Lazy Susan. Terry and I removed the lamp, vase, and magazines from the table, and covered the table with folded blankets to make it a softer surface. Soon we had the three women on their backs on the table with their pussies at the edge. Terry and I stood a few feet apart and sank our dicks into two of the women, initially Crystal and Tina. After a minute, we eyeballed each other and pulled out of the women we were fucking. We rotated the table a third way around. Terry started fucking Ellen, and I sank deep into Crystal. Some giggling and then more serious moans resonated in the room. Whichever woman didn’t have a cock in her pussy, started to masturbate. Soon, between the laughs and giggles, the moans started.

Another minute, and we jerked ourselves from our current fuckmates and rotated the table again. I could then fuck Ellen, and Tina became the benefactor of Terry’s generous endowment. Terry and I really started to pound heavily on the women we were fucking. We went longer and shifted again. We kept up the rotation of the table for over twenty minutes. I coached Terry on how to hold off and how to manage the sensations he felt rather than climax.

Each of the women enjoyed a few orgasms as we teased them in our miniature orgy. Eventually, Terry gave me that desperate look of someone who would like to hold off, but can’t manage it. He jetted his cum into Crystal’s pussy, pulling out after the first blast and coating her pubes with his man juice. Crystal simultaneously frigged her own clit with her fingers, until she joined him in those instants of bliss. The two kissed frantically, betraying not only the obvious lust they felt for each other, but also the deeper feelings and emotions they felt. I felt happy for her.

I went around the table twice more, skipping Crystal. I’d decided that I wanted to fill Ellen with my liquid explosions when they came. I’d missed her, and I wanted to share an orgasm with her, but I also wanted to deliver pleasure to Tina. I started to frig Tina with several fingers, as I fucked Ellen. The friction of Ellen’s vagina walls rubbed and massaged the sensitive head of my cock as I pistoned into her body. Soon enough, I reached the same point Terry had been in only moments before. I came in buckets. My first surge of cum went into Ellen’s pussy and triggered her orgasm; she jerked and writhed beneath me. Tina started to cum right beside her. I pulled out of Ellen, and my second and subsequent cum surges shot across both Ellen and Tina’s bodies leaving a trail of white semen from their pussies to their full breasts.

Ellen cooed at me as she came down from her peak. She started to rub my semen into her skin; however, Tina stopped her as she hopped down off the table. “I want that on my tongue, not rubbed into your skin until it disappears.” Tina’s tongue started lapping, pausing around Ellen’s nipples to bring them to a state of high arousal. When Tina got close to Ellen’s pussy, Ellen spread her legs and pulled Tina’s head to her cunt. Tina’s tongue went into high gear. Lapping up my cum became a secondary goal for Tina; she wanted to deliver pleasure to her new sex partner. As Tina hummed, rubbed, stroked, and jammed tongue and fingers into Ellen’s cunt, Ellen groaned and jerked and writhed beneath her in heavenly responses to the attention she was receiving.

Terry and I escorted Crystal back to the bed and got on either side of her, stroking her breasts and cunt, as she rubbed and massaged our flagging cocks. When we’d hardened a bit, she alternated sucking on each of us until Tina and Ellen came over beside us. Ellen sat between me and Crystal. Tina extended a hand to Crystal’s snatch, burying her fingers in the diva’s hot pussy as her tongue and her other hand assaulted Ellen’s twat. I had a close-up view.

Crystal started writhing from all the attention. Terry and my cock hardened back to their full and ready states, thanks to Crystal’s oral talents and then the sapphic display of affection next to us. Before either of us could take further action, Crystal said to Terry and me, “I want you both … at the same time … one in each hole. Please, just ‘do’ me.”

Tina and Ellen moved to an easy chair to watch us: Ellen in Tina’s lap, as Tina’s fingers sank into the other’s cunt. A tube of Astroglide appeared, and Terry applied a generous dose to Crystal’s ass. Crystal rose above Terry’s rigid pole facing me, and slowly slid down his shaft, ass first. When she bottomed out, she slowly lifted and repeated the process, apparently until it became not only comfortable, but also erotically stimulating and pleasurable to her. I got a smile from her.

After two minutes of her anal fuck by Terry, I moved in front of the pair. I put one finger into Crystal’s cunt as I thumbed her clit. Through the walls of her peritoneum, I could feel Terry’s cock slowly moving back and forth in her ass. I shifted forward and sank my cock into Crystal’s pussy. Crystal squeaked in pleasure and pulled me deeper into her cunt. I started to fuck her with more deliberate strokes. Terry and I started to alternate strokes of pleasure for her.

Crystal and I kissed, our tongues running wild as they met in each other’s mouth. At one point, after a particularly passionate kiss, we pulled apart and used our hands to touch each other’s faces. Crystal looked at me with the most adoring eyes, and whispered, “Jim, I love you.”

I nodded to her and said, “Crystal, I love you. You’re the love of my life.” We kissed again, almost dismissive of everything else going on around us and even the other penetration of her body by her friend, lover, agent, and sister’s boyfriend. Terry turned her body slightly so his mouth could reach one of Crystal’s breasts; he sucked on a tit as we kissed.

I pulled out after a couple of minutes. Ellen took my place, replacing my cock in her sister’s pussy with her mouth, tongue, and fingers. Terry continued to ass fuck Crystal as she sat on his lap facing outward; Ellen ate her sister and diddled her clit.

Tina gestured for me to bring my cock fresh from Crystal’s cunt to her mouth. She sucked me clean, and then gestured that I should fuck her. I did. She told me, “This time, I want your cum in me. No sharing.” She paused for a moment. “James, you are one special man … and you are a magnificent lover. Very special.” Her words seemed to carry more import because of her English accent.

I focused on Tina and her pleasure. In turn, she brought me pleasure. I didn’t try to prolong our lovemaking session. After Tina had her second orgasm, I waited as I felt her building up to a third. I allowed myself to build up in parallel with her, and as she started to writhe her way into her next orgasm I exploded into her pussy, pulling her with me in her cum.

Terry, Crystal, and Ellen had already collapsed in a mass of bodies. They watched with prurient interest as Tina and I had continued to completion. Now, the two of us lay beside them in repose on the bed. We looked at each other and laughed at our sexually exhausted bodies, sticky with cum, girl juice, and the sweat of hard sexual work.

Ellen said, “That was fucking fantastic, but I need to sleep. I’m exhausted. It’s so late.”

I glanced at the clock on the faux mantle in the room. The clock read one in the morning. I agreed with Ellen. Soon, we all made go to sleep noises.

I learned how inclusive Crystal could be in the next instant; she asked whether Tina wanted to share our bed overnight, sleeping with the two of us. I would have expected Crystal to become possessive and want me to be exclusively by her side. Instead, she wanted to be inclusive, so long as I was happy and, in this case, Tina was happy.

Tina joined us. Terry and Ellen slid away to the other bedroom. Only seconds later, everyone was asleep, and I had two nude and sexually sated hot women beside me.

---

Crystal cranked one eye open and said in a hushed voice, “What are you doing?”

I said, “I’m going for a run, and a meditation. Do you want to come?”

A long silence ensued as I laced up my running shoes. Soon, I watched the covers move and Crystal’s lithe and full-breasted nude body came from under the covers. She stood beside the bed and stretched to the ceiling. I felt my penis swell with interest at her erotic body. I realized in that instant, I could never tire of her body, even as we aged.

Crystal rummaged in her suitcase and produced a jogging suit and sneakers. Just as she finished dressing Tina’s head lifted slightly and she looked at us readying to go and exercise. In her strong British accent she said, “You Yanks are fucking insane.” Her head fell back to the pillow, and she was gone into dreamland again.

Crystal and I started to run the perimeter of the golf course near the hotel, slowing here and there to watch as the slanted rays of the rising sun first lit a corner of some glade or reflected off the dew on a putting green. Our Nikes were wet with the morning dew.

At the edge of one beautiful pond, I took a small envelope from my pocket. I opened it and allowed a small amount of Karen’s ashes to flow into the slightest of breezes. I silently thanked Karen for being who she was, and now who she was in spirit; I again had a vision of her orchestrating the new relationships I’d forged along my cross-country road trip as well as my new career path. As the ashes floated away, Crystal reached out and tenderly touched my shoulder in a supportive and loving gesture. I reached across my body with my other hand and held her hand there.

As we turned, I looked at Crystal. She had tears in her eyes. I gave her a puzzled look. She said in a halting voice, “I hope someday that you’ll love me as much as you loved Karen. You are one great guy.”

I pulled her to me. A ray of sunlight glistened through her gorgeous hair. I said, “Crystal, I do love you. I can’t say it’s more or less than I ever had with Karen, but I love you so dearly. You are my home base and my future. I want to be there for you always, and I hope you feel the same way.”

We kissed. Crystal was crying and trying to smile simultaneously. She squeaked out, “I love you” through her tears and buried her face in my chest. We both cried.

Soon, we pulled ourselves together, and started walking as we held hands. Neither of us spoke, but in those seconds, I felt a new connection with Crystal that hadn’t been there before. A hundred yards further on, I said softly, “This is new … and different, isn’t it?”

Crystal looked at me and smiled. She said, “Yes, different … very different … and very loving in a really crazy way. We’re getting serious … and I’m glad.”

We walked some more, and then she pulled me into a jog and we finished our circuit of the golf links in silence and headed back to the hotel. In that silence, I felt closer to her that I’d ever felt to her before. I could tell she felt the same way.

---

The next couple of days were spent in predictable fashion. Crystal and I would get up and exercise, roust out the others, rehearse, eat, fuck, rehearse, fuck some more, eat, and then fuck some more. Tina endeared herself to all of us by being as oversexed as we were. Once, when we got back from our morning runs and an hour in the hotel’s exercise room, Tina, Ellen, and Terry were going at it hot and heavy in their bedroom. We joined in after watching their erotic encounter for five minutes, and getting each other heated up after we stripped for our showers in the doorway to their bedroom.

I wondered if the ‘old me’ would have ever responded to such a situation or the other group activities we enjoyed. Would Karen have ever coaxed me into a group setting? Would I have been jealous or gotten my nose out of joint? Now, such situations, even seeing people I loved involved with other people, didn’t upset me in the least so long as they were happy.

Regarding the concert, as long as we were in the suite or the band’s practice room, I felt pretty confident about my ability to accompany Crystal, on key, and on tempo, without forgetting the words. The ‘eighty thousand fans’ reality still bothered me. In jest, Terry told me that the band and all of us were all in that headcount, so the numbers would only be seventy-nine-thousand-nine-hundred-something. That was supposed to make me feel better.

Sunday morning arrived, and between our fivesome orgies the day before and my worry over the concert, I didn’t feel I’d gotten much sleep. The game was to start at seven-thirty that evening; thus, we’d go ‘on stage’ around eight-thirty.

Ellen and Crystal ran with me in the morning. After showering Tina captured Terry and me, not for sex, but to talk about my next album. I had to laugh at myself because I had misread her intentions. Crystal sat by my side and held my arm in a most loving way. I felt a lot of support and integrity around the table. We talked about a concert tour for me too; I insisted if there were going to be a tour, that Crystal had to be part of the package, and it had to take place after I’d finished my road trip in San Diego, at my sister’s home. Crystal liked that idea.

Tina also talked about me appearing in a movie of some kind. I laughed aloud at the idea of being a ‘Hollywood Actor,’ but she seemed serious and told me we’d talk in greater depth once I got to the west coast. “By then, things will be clearer about what we want to do with you,” she jested with a lewd smile that clearly showed she had some additional lascivious thoughts about my body.

After our meeting, we were standing around. I suggested to Crystal that we take a motorcycle ride. Tina lit up at those words; “Hey that gives me a great idea for your entrance into the stadium tonight. Would you two be willing to ride your motorcycle in and out of the stadium, maybe with a police escort?”

I shrugged and said, “Sure;” and checked with Crystal to be certain she agreed with my acceptance of the offer.

Tina said she’d set up the arrival, and Crystal and I left for a ride.

Just as we got situated on the motorcycle, I glanced up to see a photographer taking our picture with a telephoto lens from about sixty feet away. I mentioned it to Crystal, and so the two of us turned to him and waved. He waved back. As the camera came away from the man’s face, I recognized Bart Kenesis, the paparazzo who had almost ruined us with the pictures he took in Branson.

I’d no sooner had that flash of recognition than I heard Crystal behind me say, “Hey, I’m pretty sure that’s the guy that’s been stalking me at home.”

I stopped the engine and started to get off the bike by sliding off in front of Crystal. When I got firmly on the ground, I saw Kenesis running away from us between the parked cars in the lot. He ran into the hotel. There were too many hiding places in there to follow. I did call Terry on my cell phone and alerted him to the presence of our unwanted paparazzi member.

---

Crystal and I dressed for the concert in the hotel. She’d been told to be perky and sexy. Her answer to that mandate was a pair of Daisy Duke shorts that looked rather tattered, a red-checkered shirt at least two sizes too small, her glittery western boots she usually wore for concerts, and a western cowgirl hat. Crystal had great legs, and most of them showed; no wonder she’d been named the ‘Sweetheart of America.’ She looked so perky and sexy that I felt a stirring in my loins, but she always did that to me.

We rode the motorcycle from the hotel to Cowboy Stadium where Crystal’s large tour bus had been parked for the past week. Tina, Terry, and Ellen were already there, along with a few aides who launched into our hairstyles and makeup.

I made the mistake of asking why there was such concern about my makeup, since we’d be over a hundred feet from the nearest fans in the stadium. Tina said, “Oh, that’s so you’ll show up better in the television close-ups while you’re singing - and on the big projection screen in the stadium.”

“WHAT TELEVISION CLOSE-UPS,” I said in a much louder than normal volume. Everyone turned and looked at me with grins on their face. I had forgotten we’d be on TV. Certainly no one had mentioned any close-ups.

Tina said in her best British uppity tone, “The football game is being telecast nationwide, Silly. Plus, most of what goes out to the telly will get projected up on the large high-definition projection screens that are inside the stadium. You’re handsome, everybody wants to see you - up close and personal.”

In a quieter voice I said, “I forgot we’d be on TV. Your words just caught me by surprise. How many will be watching?”

Tina said, “If it’s like the last couple of Cowboy games and like most Sunday Night Football, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty million viewers.”

I started to stammer and stutter again, “ TWENTY Mo … Ma … Me … Mil … Million!”

Tina caught on to my anxiety about that time. She tried to calm me, “Jim, you won’t even know it’s happening. The camera guys are barely noticeable as they move around you. Just focus on … on Crystal! Sing to her, not to the stadium or the cameras. The rest will take care of itself.”

I became glum for a few minutes and grumbled around the inside of the tour bus while Crystal had her face put on. I thought she had looked good before. I got the treatment too, even eye makeup. A hair stylist worked on my unruly locks for twenty minutes, most of which would be under a western hat part of the time. A very naked Heather had done my last haircut only a few days earlier; I took some solace in that fact.

A caterer brought a dozen trays of small sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres to the bus. We spread them around inside, and I migrated from tray to tray sampling all the goodies. Eating made me feel better - comfort food. On the bus’ TV, we all watched the kickoff for the game. New England had won the toss and opted to kickoff.

At the end of the first quarter, Alan Roswell, the man in charge of the halftime show for the Cowboys, banged on the door and entered the bus. He looked happy but serious. “Alright everyone, we’re all set for the best halftime show ever! Now, Jim and Crystal, I need you on your motorcycle. There’s an escort outside the bus and they will take you to a holding point. You’ll wait there until the cue to start riding into the stadium; just follow the escort right to the bottom of the stage stairs, dismount, park your motorcycle, walk up the stairs, and you’re ready to sing. Your wireless mics and headsets will be handed to you at the bottom of the stairs; you can put them on as you climb to the stage.”

Crystal asked, “What about timing with the stage crew?”

Alan answered, “We’ve timed the trip from the holding point. The police escorts you’re with know the details. The blimp overhead will cover your journey, and we’ll project that on the stadium screens to build excitement. You should arrive just as the stage is completed and everyone else - the band and stage crews - is ready to start. This is a great idea, because it puts the focus on your arrival instead of the crew setting up the stage. As you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you should hear the lead in to ‘Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl.’ After your show, just reverse everything and exit behind your escort.”

Crystal and I stepped down out of the van. Four motorcycle cops were waiting for us along with a crowd of fans. We waved to everyone, and introduced ourselves to the motorcycle officers. I heard a thousand cameras start to snap as we shook hands with them. To one side of the crowd, I caught sight of Bart Kenesis again, but things were too hectic to do anything about him.

We mounted up and fell in line behind two of the motorcycles. Crystal held the hats we’d wear while we sang. The other two patrolmen followed us. They had all their warning lights blinking, and occasionally would turn on the sirens to clear a path for us. The crowd parted, and we slowly rode away from the stadium.

The police phalanx led us about a half-mile from the stadium onto a residential road. Four more motorcycle policemen met us there. We were organized by a senior officer into a two-two-one-two-two formation, where Crystal and I were the ‘one.’ With all the lights blinking we were unmistakably important people. Crystal pointed up at the blimp. I could also hear the chatter on their police radios about the estimated time to the start of our short trip to the stadium.

At eight-thirty, we got the “Go” command. We started up our bikes, and I followed the four motorcycles in front of us as we wove out of the treed neighborhood onto some of the streets and parking lanes that led to the stadium. We maintained a nice even pace, maybe about ten miles an hour. Every light on any motorcycle in our entourage had been turned on; our formation blinked wildly with red and blue emergency lights as we approached the gated tunnel that led onto the field. The blimp circled us overhead. I could hear the crowd noise over the sounds of the cycles.

We were waved through the tunnel by several private security guards. Our entire formation rode into the stadium with sirens and all the lights blinking. The crowd went wild. Even over the noise of the nine Harley’s, we could hear the screams, whistles, and shouts. We rode two-thirds of the way around the perimeter of the playing field on a path that had been cleared for us.

As promised, our escort led us right to base of the stairway leading up to the stage. We got off, the bike, got our mics and headsets, donned our hats, and ran up the stairs onto the stage. The segue music for ‘Flirty, Flirty Cowgirl’ had started and a huge spotlight lit up Crystal. I faded to the background and tried to look useful by cavorting with the lead guitarist. The motorcycles had all been turned off and darkened. The focus and spotlight were on Crystal.

As Crystal sang her song, I peeked up at the rows and rows of people in the stadium. I couldn’t see an empty seat in the place. I thought, “So, this is what eighty-thousand people look like.” I found the scene scary on the one hand, and empowering on the other. I chose to dwell on the latter emotion. If I’d remained a computer geek, would I have ever found myself in such a situation and in front of so many people?

About three minutes passed, and I heard the band start the musical bridge into ‘Texas Dawn.’ Crystal turned to me, and I moved up beside her into the main spotlight. We gave each other a little kiss before we started. The crowd went wild with cheers, and a thousand more cameras flashed.

We sang the opening line to ‘Texas Dawn’ - ‘Texas dawns come early, when you’ve been awake all night’ - and the crowd noise rose in a huge crescendo, so loud I could barely think. We were singing about Texas to a Texas crowd, and they loved it. They quieted slightly as we got into the song. After that, I gave a brief introduction to ‘Lone Wolf Mountain’ and we sang that. I couldn’t tell whether it had been well received or not. Lots of people were screaming anyway, so it was hard for me to tell appreciation from general exuberance. As we sang, I watched six guys dressed like Ninja’s with wireless television cameras sneaking around us on the stage and below the stage on the playing field. We segued into our medley that ended with a jived-up version of ‘Dallas’ that bought the stands to their feet cheering. Tina had it right; she’d said, “Always play to the home team.”

As we finished, we gave a wave to the stadium, ran down the stairs, took off our hats, handed off the wireless mics, and hopped back on the motorcycle. Our police escort had been waiting for us in the shadows of the stage with their engines and lights off. As we mounted the bike, all the blinking lights came back on and all the cycles started and revved their engines. We motored away from the stage, as the stadium crew started to dismantle the structure.

We completed the rest of the loop around the stadium and left the way we came in. As we cleared the stadium parking area, most of the motorcycle patrolmen waved and departed our group. Two patrolmen stayed with us, and led us back to the secure parking area and the tour bus. We stopped, thanked them, and shook hands. Crystal kissed each one on the cheek; they left us with big smiles on their faces.

---

In the tour bus, Ellen raced up to me and lavished several great kisses on me, several with lots of tongue - my kind of kiss. Terry hugged Crystal as Tina stood by. I got a ‘knock your socks off’ kiss from Tina too. Everyone had a lot of praise for our performance.

Tina said, “Great job everyone. Now, let’s get these two ready for the Press Conference.”

Crystal and I said simultaneously, “Press Conference?”

Tina explained, “Yes, about fifteen minutes after the end of the game, the Cowboys want you to spend a little time with some of the press. You can both promote your albums, and you’ll field questions from the press - probably about twenty of them according to Alan Roswell.”

I asked, “But, aren’t the press more interested in the coaches and players.”

Tina explained, “Yes, and they’re having their own press conference in another room. You two are talking to the ‘social’ press - you know, the people that focus on rumor, gossip, and innuendo in the music and movie industry.”

People in the bus started milling around, mostly watching the third quarter of the football game.

I pulled Crystal aside, “We better talk and get our stories straight.” She nodded and came with me to the bedroom area; we left the door open, and sat on the bed in the tight quarters.

I told her, “There are two questions we’ve got to have ‘pat’ answers for. One might not get asked; the other is a sure thing.”

She asked, “What’s the sure thing - our relationship?”

“Exactly,” I told her. “Are you two serious about each other? Are you still dating? Are you seeing others? Are you engaged or married? Are you exclusive? What are your intentions towards each other? The questions will sound something like that.”

Crystal fixed me in her gaze, “And how would you answer them?”

I reached across the bed and took Crystal’s hand, “Crystal, I think of heaven as being in the same room as you, let alone being able to hold you. I told you on the golf course that I love you, and I mean it. I want us to be serious.”

She said somberly, “And, I know that now is not the time.”

I shook my head, “For me, it’s too soon. I know other celebs marry the day after they meet, but I just can’t. I feel that there would be a lot of negative publicity for us if we do anything other than say we’re casually dating until after more time has passed. We can still be ‘an item’ this way too. I wish it were otherwise, but I don’t want it to look as though you’ve captured some wounded bird, or that I bounced out of Karen’s death in a cavalier manner.”

Crystal stared at me a long time. I kissed her hand. Finally, she said, “You’re right and thinking this way is part of why I love you. So, what are we - for the press?”

I said, “One answer is ‘We’re best friends, dating, and learning about each other - more so everyday, and if things keep progressing the way they are, at some time in the future ‘something interesting’ might happen.’”

Crystal said, “What about your motorcycle trip?”

“Right. I’ve got to finish my road trip - it’s a ‘get over my late wife’ and mid-life crisis ‘right of passage’ for me. What would you add?”

She said, “We’re both at the start of our careers with new albums and for me lots of public appearances - you’ll do more when you finish your trip. Oh, and we see each other when we can, which hasn’t been that often since we met.”

Crystal squirmed across the bed and kissed me. “We’re so good at PR … and I do love you with all my heart.” We necked for a minute, and then she pulled away; “Hey, what’s the other question?”

I grimaced and answered her, “Is it true you two were involved in some kind of sex orgy at Table Rock Lake in Branson, Missouri?” I also knew that Bart Kenesis would ask the question if he was allowed into the press conference.

---

The press conference started a half-hour after the end of the game; Crystal and I were both a little nervous, although we’d talked about the questions that we might get asked. About twenty-five different members of the press filed into the large room as Crystal, Terry, Tina, and I took four chairs behind a long table at the front of the room. Alan Roswell, the Cowboys’ halftime coordinator called the press conference to order and introduced us.

Before any questions got launched, Alan talked about the outstanding work the stadium crew had done in the set up and tear down of the halftime show. This was not what the various press people wanted to hear, however, they patiently waited for him to finish his spiel. He then opened up the floor for questions. About that time, I saw Bart Kenesis slip into the back of the room with his camera. He immediately took several shots of all of us lined up at the table. I smiled.

A woman in a tight black jump suit with a gold lamé shawl took the portable mic and said, “Diedre Rank, US magazine. There’s been lots of speculation about the intensity and details of the relationship between Crystal and Jim. Could the two of you comment on what’s really going on?”

Crystal jumped in and said a few words, almost word for word what we’d rehearsed. I improvised another sentence or two beyond that. A dozen follow-up questions came flying at us: ‘Have you talked about marriage? Children? Have you met each other’s parents? Do you have the same friends? How do you handle both being on the road in different cities? Will you buy a diamond engagement ring, and if so, when and how big? Where will you live when you settle down?’ I admired the detailed thinking that went into the questions. Most of them we laughed at and explained that our relationship and thinking hadn’t gotten anywhere near that far along. For the most part, the tabloids were disappointed.

As things slowed down, I saw the microphone get passed to our secret nemesis, Bart Kenesis. He said, “Brad Kenesis, Freelance Journalist. This question is for Jim Mellon; you were in Army Special Ops up until a decade ago; have you used any of those skills recently?”

I laughed dismissively at the question, guessing that he’d reasoned that I’d used those skills in Missouri to take the memory card from his camera - the card with the salacious pictures of our outdoor orgy. After my artificial laughter, I said, “I’m in my late thirties now, and to tell the truth getting a little pudgy here and there. About the only skills, I use today involve staying in shape. I try to run three to seven miles most days, occasionally putting in runs as long as twelve miles. I use a gym if there’s one available, watch my diet, and … I try to remain sharp enough to counter any threats to the people I love … but, overall, no, I haven’t had to use any of my old Army skills - well maybe a few camping skills though.” I hoped he’d internalize the dig I’d made about protecting the people I loved.

Kenesis jumped in again before relinquishing the mic; “Could you comment on the sexual escapades you, Crystal, and another couple enjoyed in Branson, Missouri, about seven or eight weeks ago?” A buzz circulated among the other members of the press, and everyone leaned forward to hear my answer.

I answered nonchalantly yet seriously, and directly at Kenesis, “Well, that sounds like fun but I’m afraid you have the wrong group of people.” I paused, frowned, and said, “If you posed a ‘suggestive and loaded question’ to impugn our reputations and start a rumor; I take your statement as a personal insult and consider you to be a promoter of yellow journalism at its worst, and probably libel and defamation of character if you persist. Your fellow members of the press in this room should castigate you … although I’d prefer if they castrated you.”

The other members of the press chortled at my play on words.

I smiled in a strange way at the photographer, a dangerous way guaranteed to intimidate that I’d mastered as a Green Beret; I added as I gave him my most pernicious stare, “Anyone that would persist in such a rumor just might incur the wrath of my Special Ops alumni.” I turned to the rest of the press, and laughingly added, “Those of you who know the capabilities of the Green Berets know that no one would ever want to incur their fury.” I turned back to Kenesis, locked eyes with him so he’d know I’d just leveled a serious threat at him. I turned again and smiled at the rest of the press in the room to keep the mood light. As far as I could tell, people accepted that he’d been baiting us, and that there was no story there.

One woman wrenched the microphone away from Kenesis with a nasty look at him because he’d gotten away with asking more than one question. She fired a question at Tina in her role as Executive VP of Talent Development for Sony Entertainment. They had an animated discussion about our next albums and how sales of our current hits were going. Another reporter captured the microphone next. He said, “Roy Gallant, Dallas Morning News. Many of us want to know where you’re headed next on your road trip? We’ve been following your journey across the country - plotted out by where you’ve been sighted, and it looks like a drunken chicken walked across the map. We hear about where you’ve been after you’ve left. So, my question is where are you going next?

That was a preview of Road Trip - The Western States. To read the rest purchase the book.

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