A Box Of Rocks, Pt. 02

Mason thought about it, ran it by the others, and Box Of Rocks was official. They were all still suffering from betrayals and failed relationships, and it showed in their writing. Al and Mason wrote as song, "If Your Tongue Was On Fire." You can guess the start of the phrase. It was a duet that seemed to devolve into a screaming match set to music. It was great! The guy that did the video was pretty old, and he remembered the Spy vs Spy shorts in Mad Magazine, and the video was them doing two acts each of stupid revenge that backfired, leaving them with blackened faces and wildly disarrayed hair.

They named the album "Defecation Occurs," and it went platinum. Rolling Stone had them on the cover that month, with a big article about how they came together, and what may be in their future. I was along for the interview, and there was a picture of me, saying I was Alison's sister, and Mason's love interest. I was really happy, because it was finally true. It took months, but I won him over.

Actually, I kind of got drunk and went flipped shit on him after nine months, storming into his bedroom naked, screaming at the top of my lungs. I'd just finished an article in a gossip rag from LA, showing pictures of Mason and some bimbo blond starlet locking lips. The article quoted her as saying they were in love and he would be moving to LA to be near her. She also hinted that he would probably do the soundtrack to her next movie. He'd been asleep but my screams woke him pretty fast. I threw the pages at him, ranting. He hopped out of bed, naked of course, and threw me down, smacking my ass, hard. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You and Miss Bimbo Vixen 2024! It's all over the news out there."

He made me lay still while he gathered the papers and read them. I could see his frown deepening as he scrolled throught he article. Then... he grinned. "Why should it matter? Just for the record though, none of that shit is true. She ambushed me at a reception, and laid a liplock on me before I knew what was going on. If they had kept clicking, they would have got me pushing her away. She probably had it set up with a local bottomfeeder out to sell more rags.

Why should it bother you, anyway?"

"You're not that big of an idiot! You know why it bothers me! I've waited for months for you to really see me, but all you can see is a toy you can spank once in a while. Do you care for me at all?"

He pretended to think. "Well, let's see. You have a good job and the money from your settlement, and could have left anytime in the last six months, but I've kept you with me. That new Mercedes you're driving, who paid for that? Who buys most of your clothes, and I'm not talking about the fantasy outfits? I've decided you're mine, Bitch. Learn to live with it!"

"Fuck you, Mason!"

At times I hated his grin. "Isn't that what you came in here to do?"

There is no other way to describe it. I attacked him with nails and fists. He was really strong and fast, but when I scratched his arm he tried to lock down on me. It seemed I was slippery as an eel, because he had a hard time trying to control me, and somehow he had wrestled me on to the big bed.

Shit happened. He bit my right boob so hard it was still bruised two weeks later. I gave him a matching bruise. Somehow he ended up on top of me, and I could feel his massive erection on my thigh. I sneered at him. "You even know how to use that thing? I bet you pop in seconds. A real woman would destroy you!"

I was leaking like a faucet by then and he knew it. Mason slid up my body, and the only word I can think of is impalement, because he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust. I screamed, he grunted, and then I wrapped my legs around him. Every time I started to smart off he would thrust harder, and all I could do was grunt. I screamed out my first orgasm, afraid I blew out his eardrum. He just pounded me harder, then tightened up. I had my second orgasm as he unloaded, groaning. He held himself into me for what felt like hours before he disengaged and flopped down besides me. I instantly snuggled as he stroked the overloaded nerve endings in my body.

"Bitch," he said softly.

"Asshole," I whispered just before I kissed him. Then we both went to sleep, not waking until the sun streamed throught he window. I woke with a start, to the sensation of a nipple vacuumed into a mouth. I recommend it as a way to start the day to anyone. We weren't in a hurry, not in attack mode, so it was a lot gentler than last night, and just as intense. We lay, finally sated, as I traced his scars across his chest, kisssing their length, before lying back.

"What do we now?"

He hopped out of bed and swatted my ass. "We have breakfast!"

It took me longer to get up, and by the time I got to the kitchen breakfast was almost ready. I got a cup of coffee from his machine, one that was probably designed by a rocket engineer. It had so many variables you could program into it that the controls were larger than the pot, but it made damn fine coffee. It held three reservoirs of beans, and you could program the blend in the proportion you chose. Then it automatically ground them and loaded into the drip. You never had to add water, it was on a dedicated line and would measure the amount you needed for the beans automatically. It probably cost as much as a small car.

We were quiet during the meal, and I wondered where we were going. It seemed we were going to bathe, in his six head wall of water shower, that was almost as large as my bedroom. I'd had shower sex many times, but not at this level. It was like fucking in a warm rainshower, and after we finished what was our sixth round of sex in fourteen hours, he sat me on a seat built into the shower, and gently cleaned me. When he held a showerhead up to my pussy I automatically spread my legs. Then he twisted the controls and the spray turned into short, hard bursts that pummeled my clit. He held me down as I tried to wriggle away, only letting go until I screamed out yet another orgasm. Then he petted me a little before turning me loose.

"No clothes today, it would just be a waste of time. I'm feeling inspired, so I'm going to work on a couple of things. Come and get me at lunch time, and make me take a break."

"Since when have I ever been capable of making you do anything?"

"Since last night. See you at lunch."

I watched as he toweled off, admiring that tight ass, seeing his junk dangle as he walked away. I almost followed him. When lunch rolled around, I made his favorite sandwich and went to fetch him. Ever been nailed while bent over a baby grand piano? You should try it sometime.

Chapter 20

The only time I was in my bedroom now was to get fresh clothes. The rest of the time we spent rolling around in the monstrosity he called a bed. I asked him once how many it would hold. "Six, just to sleep. Twelve if you're getting busy."

Shit, TMI. He only spanked me once in the next four months. I probably deserved it. Then he'd rub lotion on interesting areas, and we'd end up fucking. Again. We were hot and heavy for about three months before easing back to anything remotely normal for a couple. Maybe he saw how gingerly I walked. Maybe I noticed how raw his dick looked at times. Al and Titty came in the next week after we'd sealed the deal, so to speak, took one look, and grinned.

"So, is he a good fuck?" Titty was obviously looking at the bruise on my boob.

"Ask Al, she should know."

Al grinned. "He's a great fuck, you can't beat the combination of experience, training, and imagination. We fucked like bunnies a few years ago, but we were both alpha personalities, and it didn't work. It was two pretty intense months, and though I don't mean to, I've measured every man since against him, and they usually lose."

Then she smiled, softly. "Well, except for Juan. He's got the imagination, and I'm working on the training."

Juan was a new man in her life. They had met when they were recording, and his band had the studio after they left. His band was a fusion of TexMex, mariachi, punk, with overtones of straight rock. They sang in both languages, and had a big following. This was their second album, and I listened to some of it. It was not impressive and I said so once. Al sighed. "You're not alone on that. I had Mason listen to the first four tracks, and he said there wasn't a single among them and that it sounded like album filler. I suspect it will flop if they can't reanimate the energy of their live shows."

"Have you told him that?"

"No. I don't know how he would handle it." I thought to myself that there was only one way to find out, and when the opportunity came along, I gave him my thoughts. He was deeply offended for about a week, before he realized I was right. Then he talked to his band and they were offended. Juan started to realize this might be the last album they make, and considered other options.

Al got permission from Mason, and had him out to the house for a few sessions. He'd come out pumped to the max, adrenalin running high. He hit the band with the new song he had written with Mase and Al, and it became the only hit on the record. They would part ways about a year later.

Then Titty grinned. "Jon ain't half bad, for primarily playing on the other team."

"You two?"

"Yep. It won't last, we both know it, but right now it's fun and gets our needs met. We'll know when it runs its course, and I'm pretty sure it won't hurt our friendship, or the band." I tried to get a mental image. Jon was like six two or three, and Titty was five even. Then I grinned. When we're horizontal, we're all pretty much the same height.

Chaptrer 21

Things hummed along for about a year. The band had started their second album, tentatively named Over It Now, about their healing from failed relationships and looking forward to the future. They had three really good tunes in the can, but had hit a wall on their writing. Since they could work on their own timeline, they just stopped, not even practicing for a month. Jon went back to France and took Titty with him. Juan and Al went down to Belize to soak up some sun and work on their line free tans.

Mason took me to LA for a week, for business. I was super careful, and hated being out of Mason's sight. Things went pretty smoothly, and then we were off for... I didn't know. Mase booked the tickets, and when we touched ground we were in New Zealand. Hobbit Land!

We rented a car, and drifted across the islands. The country had a small but talented music scene. Mase even joined a few bands for songs in several bars and music halls. The first two never made the connection, but the third group was on the beach before their show, and saw his infamous tattoo. It came out of his stomach, a graphic, bloody wound. A muscular arm, holding a pipe wrench dripping with blood up in the air, the name "Gutwrench" prominently displayed over it.

It was an attention getter, and Mason had gotten used to it. He'd stopped shaving his chest years ago, but it was still seeable through the light fur. He grinned when I traced it across his chest. "I was 21, buzzed out of my mind on success and good drugs. The whole band got it, even my... Angela. Now it's just me." He didn't talk about that period of his life, and I didn't ask. As he got more familiar with me, as we spent time together, bits and pieces would come out at random. I'm sure if we were together long enough I'd know his whole history.

"Gutwrench!", she screamed, when she saw it. "You must have been a hell of a fan."

Mase grinned. "Something like that."

One of the men was looking a little more closely, and suddenly grinned. "He's not a bloody fan, Molly. HE is Gutwrench. Mason Eldridge?"

Mason shook his hand. "I am, but please don't broadcast it."

Molly was looking harder at me. "You're Sasha Sanchez. You manage that dolly, what's her name again?"

"Her name is Maddie Taylor. She has an album coming out in three months, so you'll be seeing her a lot on You Tube and the usual music outlets. There's at least four hits on it, so she'll be a household name by this time next year." I was kind of proud of her accomplishments, and what I had done to help.

The other woman with them was kind of dispondent. "I wish we had the luck she has. We're good at what we play, tight as hell vocally, but can't seem to get noticed. Any advice?"

"Play as hard as you can, give it your all when you play live, and build a fan base. That's what I did with Gutwrench."

"And that led to Box Of Rocks. You guys rock!"

She needed to learn some new terminology. They made us promise to come see them, and they were playing at the hotel we were staying in. It was a top tier place, so they had to have a little talent. Mason dressed in his usual black tee, pants, with a brighter suit jacket, but made me dress to impress. Little black dress halfway to my ass, low scoop in front, my shining black hair held back with a silver band, the hair stopping just above my ass. Hose and garters, and four inch heels. I looked nuclear hot. Mason grinned, then told me to put on the necklace and matching earrings. A gift for my birthday, white gold and sapphries. They set off my skin tone perfectly.

"You look good enough to eat. I won't have to worry about assholes bothering me, because if you're there I won't get a second look. You'll have to beat them off with a stick."

"That's you department remember? Try to stay calm, I don't know anything about the legal system here."

We'd been at a club as guests of the label trying to get distribution rights, and one asshole took it a little too far. I was already skittish from my last encounter, and when the jerk grabbed my boob I jerked back and screamed. Both breasts popped out of the tight top and he made it worse by making a crude remark as he reached out with both hands. Mason swooped in with some kind of martial arts move, grabbing his hands and twisting his body, resulting in two dislocated elbows for the jerk. It was all on video, so Mason got off with a warning thanks to Gwen, but it came with a strong warning from the police. After that, word got around and people were very respectful the rest of the visit. I asked him about it. "You hurt him pretty bad."

"I should have killed him. Nobody touches what's mine, especially you." He realized what he'd said and shut up, and I grinned for three days.

The band was very good. They had two more guys with them that weren't on the beach and they knew what their insruments were for. One of the women sang, the other was the bassist. One guitarist, the keyboardist, and the drummer finished out their sound. They were tight as only people who'd played together for a long time could be, and had the crowd moving in no time. Mason was a pretty good dancer, and I was sex on a stick on the dance floor. People just stopped and watched us. Mason, of course, joined the band for two songs, dueting with the woman on one song, playing guitar on the other. His solo brought the house down, and word started spreading before he slipped off stage and faded back to the table.

"What did you think?," I asked as we got ready for bed.

"They're good, and make a killer bar band. If they can write, they may have a future."

We met them at breakfast the next morning and Mason told them the same thing, after they asked. The bassist told him she had a few things written, but she hadn't let anyone hear them. She almost fainted when Mason gave her his contact information, and told her to send one or two to him, and he'd let the band listen to it and offer advice.

We toured the part of the country where the movies were filmed, and they were as lush and beautiful as they looked in the films. I bet I made Mason take three or four hundred pictures, and got other tourists to snap both of us. What really set the vacation off was going to an area that taught traditional Maori ways, and the tattoos of both the men and women kind of freaked me out. They got Mason to take off his shirt and don a traditional wrap, painted him with fake tattoos, and taught him the haka. I filmed the whole thing as he stomped and waved his arms, making faces and sticking his tongue out. I knew from experience how talented his tongue was, and he looked like he was about to lick his eyebrows. A few of the female preformers noticed it as well, which pissed me off. I got my own makeover. With my Mexican heritage, hair, and skin tone, I looked a lot like a native. I helped perform the female version of the dance, fake tattoos on my chin and forehead. I watched the film later, and thought I looked quite fierce.

We kept the costumes and the fake tattoos on, and rushed back to the hotel, which flipped out a lot of the conservative patrons of the five star hotel, and fucked like maniacs, trying to impress ourselves with our tongues. The next day, before we flew out, we met a woman named Mihirangi. Mason had seen her in a Playing For A Change video, and was impressed by her voice. She stopped by the suite, and after some conversation, Mason pulled out a guitar and tuned it for his slide, and they did a couple of old blues songs. Mason pitched his voice low and rough, and it was a perfect counterpoint for what he said was one of the purest voices he'd ever heard. I recorded it and copied it to her phone. It showed up on Twitter before we cleared national airspace, and boosted an already rising career.

We laughed hysterically the next day on the plane, talking about the old couple we'd shared an elevator with. Mason stuck his tongue out at her, and my top 'slipped'. The poor old man stared at my tits for five floors before his wife slapped him. They couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough.

We all got home with within a few days of each other, and met at our house, not to rehearse, but to share travel stories. Al and Juan had enjoyed Belize so much they were looking for some property off the beaten path. Jon had led Titty through a tour of smoky jazz clubs from Paris to Montruex, with videos of them sitting in with various bands, mostly famous ones in European jazz circles. They also shared a few of them enjoying the coast of France, especially the nude beaches. Titty was all smooth skin and muscle, but still attractive. Jon was without a doubt one sexy piece of man meat, and they both got hit on relentlessy. Though they didn't come right out and say it, I suspect they seduced a husband and wife on vacation, and opened their eyes to all kinds of possibilities. After a night of catching up, they agreed to show up in two weeks, ready to work.

End of Part 2