The Suggestion

"Do you remember that spot, Shea?" I asked, pointing to a gravel pull off, shaded by the feathery leaves of a palo verde. The city below shimmered to the foothills.

Shea smiled. "Refresh my memory."

I loved Shea's teasing and was eager to play her game.

"It was on a night a lot like this. Early September, I believe. Don't you remember? Let's see. We were leaving a lecture and art exhibition at Taliesin West. You were a Frank Lloyd Wright freak back then, and I would do anything to get laid. We drank wine and chatted it up like regular socialites. You flirted with the older men. It drove their wives crazy, a hot young art student making their hubby's hot, bothered, and hard. I loved watching you. You always put on the greatest of shows. After our share of wine, we got on my motorcycle and took the long way home. We took this very road, Shea. We were practically the only ones on it. Riding right into the warm night air. Leaning into the hairpin turns. The engine growling between our legs.

'Turn off the headlights' you told me. I remember how the idea terrified me. Riding a black mountain road. Staying between the rock without any light to guide me. But I would do anything you wanted, wouldn't I? No matter how crazy. I shut them off. And as the bike cut into the abyss, I remember your hand sliding into my jeans. You fingers long and cool against me. The danger and the excitement of your touch made me gasp. I was sure I was going to crash us both into granite. I strained to stay between the shadows on the side of the road while you cupped my balls. I can still feel the prick of your finger nails."

I glanced over at Shea. In the blue light of the console, I could see she was smiling, remembering that hot September night. Those same slender fingers that caressed me then, were gently stroking the satin that lay between her fingertips and her stiff pink nipples.

"I couldn't take it any longer. I pulled off at that spot back there. I took you to the edge, where the world dropped off and the city lay like sequins below us. I kissed you hard. I remember your mouth was open. When our mouths touched it was if we were ready to devour one another. You bit my lip and made it bleed. Your lips were crimson, full, and parted. 'Oh, fuck me' issued from them. Isn't that how your remember it, Shea?"

Shea had opened her top. Her hand slid under her bra as she began gently kneading her breast.

"It's coming to me, Peter," she sighed. "Isn't there more?"

"There is," I said. "Should I go on?"

Shea undid her bra. She cupped a breast with one hand and pinched her excited nipple with the other. She placed her bare feet on the dashboard. I took this as a "yes."

"We tore at one anothers clothes, exposing our bodies to the night air, our hungry mouths, and our greedy touch. I lay you on the rough picnic table top set there for hungry travelers. Your legs were draped over my shoulders. The perfume of your sex, mingled with the sage of the desert and the orange blossom of the valley. I got drunk on it all. I slid a finger up through the folds of your labia. I had never felt you so wet. Even your soft thighs glistened with dew. I tasted you. My tongue probed you and teased you. I ran it hard from your anus to your clit. You ground against me. My face smeared with the nectar of your soaking cunt."

Shea had pulled her black panties to the side and fingered her pussy with elegant urgency. I loved to watch Shea masturbate. Strumming her clit like a virtuoso. The car smelled of sage, and orange blossom, and Shea.

"I curled my hands under your ass and fed on your delicious pussy. Your cries and pleas broke the desert silence. I could feel it approaching. I knew you were ready to cum. I knew any instant you would grind against my lips and shudder, and cry, and curse as tidal waves of pleasure washed over you.

"That's when the cop came. Remember that part Shea. His spot light was on us. I was about to pull away, but you wouldn't let me. You grabbed my hair, held me tight against your drenched pussy. 'Fuck him," you cried. Then you pulled me up to you. You kissed me. 'Fuck me," you ordered.

"The cop never got out of the car. In the hot white of his spot light, I entered you. I drove my cock deep inside you. You and I were wild with desire. I fucked you hard. Driving my loins into you with a primal need that walked the fine line between ecstasy and fury. I bit into your nipples and drove my cock deep into your wet, muscular cunt. I fucked you as hard as I ever had, Shea. But I remember how you wanted it harder. And all the while, the cop car idled by the side of the road."

Just then Shea's Blackberry vibrated. Right in the middle of everything, she reached for it, but instead of looking into its screen, she pressed it against her pussy.

"Finish," she moaned.

So I told Shea how I fucked her furiously in the desert. My thumb pressed against her clit, which was full and ready to explode.

The Blackberry vibrated again.

I told her how I felt the warm gush of release. The way her body tightened. Her red hair damp with animal sweat. The way she exploded in my arms.

The Blackberry purred.

The way the cop's spot light burned on us as we growled and hissed and howled, lost in the fog of ecstasy.

Blackberry growled between Shea's legs.

Shea cried out. She threw her head back. With both hands between her legs she pressed the Blackberry against the place that burned. Then Shea came, and when she did, she arched her back as if making an offering to a pagan god.

As Shea lay panting next to me, spent and thoroughly satisfied, her Blackberry glistening but silent in her palm, I told her how the spot light shut off and the cop car drove away.