"This is a great car," Richie commented as he ran his hand over the glossy black finish of the Viper, "I can't fuckin' believe you're gettin' rid of it."
"It's a god damn cop magnet, man," Jon replied, "Pain in the ass gettin' stopped all the time. You'd think they'd be used to seein' me in it, like there aren't any other 'exotic' cars in this town they could pick on instead."
Richie continued watching as Jon cleaned out the tiny trunk. His mouth curled up in a wry smile.
"You know, we never really broke it in," he said, leaning toward Jon, legs against the fender, arms folded across his chest. He had on a sleeveless black t-shirt, some old jeans and black workboots.
Jon glanced up, his brow furrowed, "What are you talkin' about?" he laughed, "This thing was built for speed. Maybe if I'd kept it legal, I might not have gotten stopped as often!"
"That's not what I meant," Richie watched the singer for his reaction. He wasn't getting one.
"A real christening," he elaborated.
Jon flashed his smile and winked at the guitarist.
"Believe me, it's been christened, baptized and bathed," Jon laughed, still not comprehending the guitarist's meaning, "When you get it up to 150, you'll be prayin' Holy Mother of Jesus that you can stop the fuckin' thing in time."
"Well then fuck you, never mind," Richie sounded disappointed. He walked to the entrance of the garage and squinted into the sunlight.
Jon saw how dejected Richie was. Why doesn't he buy his own damn Viper? The singer contemplated an idea.
"How about one last spin? You can drive."
Richie spun around and Jon tossed him the keys.
Richie's grin grew wide as he climbed over the door into the driver's seat.
Jon slid into the dark leather bucket seat on the passenger side and slammed the door. They pulled their seatbelts over and snapped them in place. Richie turned the key, pressed the clutch and gave the accelerator a gentle push. The huge motor throttled deeply in the confines of the garage. He slipped it into reverse and backed out.
He reached for his sunglasses as he put it in gear. The car rumbled down the driveway. They turned onto the street and slowly made their way to the highway. This really was a great car. He'd happily take it through its paces but getting stopped so soon during this little excursion would ruin all the fun, Richie thought.
Easing onto the interstate, he gave the accelerator a little tap and the speedometer jumped to eighty, then ninety in the blink of an eye. He turned to look at Jon, who was smiling back at him.
With the top off and the windows down, the wind whipped through their hair like a tornado. He guided the sleek black car in and out of traffic with ease.
Richie kept glancing in the rearview mirror as they covered a few miles in no time. Once in the New Jersey countryside, he kept an eye out for the next exit. There, he steered off the highway onto a back road. Head's turned as they drove by a small gas station. Jon waved as they caught some gravel along the shoulder and sent a spray of debris out behind them. They did not pass without being noticed.
Richie made another turn and they were on a narrow blacktop road. They passed a few houses, then they were rolling past trees and fields.
Movement in the passenger's seat caught his eye and he turned to see Jon levering his seat back as far as he could, basking in the sunlight pouring into the convertible. The sun glistened off his blond hair flying in the wind. He was wearing an old workshirt with the sleeves ripped off, faded torn jeans and running shoes.
He slowed when he saw an opening in the trees along the road ahead. He turned the car into a dead end driveway, the entrance to some undeveloped property. He drove to the end of it, a distance of about three car lengths.
Jon lifted his head up and looked around, then looked at Richie.
"What the fuck are we doin' here?"
"I meant, we need to have a special ceremony in the car before you get rid of it," Richie spoke slowly, emphasizing the word 'ceremony.'
Finally, the light came on and Jon laughed.
"Keep the motor runnin'," Jon said, "Put it in neutral," he continued as he pulled the manual brake lever and unfastened his seatbelt.
Richie pressed the clutch, shifted, undid his seatbelt and then twisted around to scope out their hiding place. Very well secluded by the trees. Only way anyone would notice them is if someone was looking toward their right as they passed the opening in the trees. This particular road seemed traffic free.
"I still can't believe you're gettin' rid of this thing," Richie said as he tossed his sunglasses on the dash and ran his hands through his hair. The sun filtered through the trees, splashing patterns of light on the hood of the car. The motor vibrated gently under, waiting patiently to be let loose again.
Jon was grinning from ear to ear as he shifted in his seat, leaning toward the guitarist. His hair was swept back from the beating it had taken and his face was flushed with windburn.
Richie leaned over and pulled Jon's face to his and pushed his tongue past the singer's lips.
The low rumbling of the engine drowned out Jon's moan as he slouched back in the leather seat, Richie's hand dropping down to the singer's crotch. Jon pushed up into the guitarist's hand, fumbling with his own zipper to release his growing member.
It was the end of summer and the air was hot, but not as hot as Richie's hand as it slid along his stiff cock. The guitarist was leaning over Jon, one hand supporting himself on the seat, the other exploring the heavy hot shaft with his fingers. He let his thumb slide over the tip, swiping up the dripping pre-come.
Jon lifted his left leg over the console and leaned back against the door letting his head almost drop over the top. Richie gripped Jon's cock and began pumping up and down while working his way down the singer's neck, licking and biting. Jon gasped for air as he breathed heavily through his mouth, pushing Richie's shoulders down, wanting to feel the warm cavern of the guitarist's mouth on him.
Richie obliged by taking Jon's heated pole between his lips, first sucking hard on the smooth tip, licking at the slick coating he had just given it, then working down to the base. Jon began thrusting into Richie's mouth, needing to stoke the fire building deep in his groin. He entwined his fingers in the guitarist's dark hair, pushing his head down, feeling the warmth encase him.
Jon started to groan as he shifted his hips, taking his time, letting the climax build, he could feel it rising with each thrust.
Richie let Jon slide it in, slowly moving in and out, going deeper down his throat with each inward movement. Richie paused when he'd taken all of Jon's length. He swallowed hard and slid up and down the length, wrapping his tongue around the hot thick member.
Jon pushed harder, deeper until he gripped the sides of Richie's head and pulled his face in, pouring his heat into the back of Richie's mouth. Richie let Jon slide out, he swallowed and licked as more come spurted in heavy dollops onto the leather.
Richie heard a noise and lifted his head.
"Shit, it's a cop," he hissed. Jon bolted up and fumbled with his zipper. Not being able to manage it fast enough, he pulled his shirttail down over his lap and covered his eyes with the other hand. Jesus fuckin' christ.
"Turn off the engine, please," the officer said as he stepped up to the driver's side of the car. Richie immediately turned the key and the rumbling motor died. The only sound was the birds and trees rustling in the breeze as Jon and Richie looked at the officer and tried to stifle their laughter.
"Are you the car's owner?" the officer addressed Richie.
"Um, no, that would be me," Jon interjected. The cop turned his attention to Jon. Shit, how long had he been there? Jon wondered.
"Can I see some identification?"
Jon lifted the lid to the console and dug around for his wallet, all the while holding his shirttail in place. He opened his wallet and slipped his driver's license out, held it up to the state trooper. This would only be the 112th conversation with a police officer he'd had in this car, but never once had his fly been wide open before. This was definitely a first.
The officer removed his sunglasses and looked at the driver's license, then back to Jon. He glanced at the name patch on Jon's shirt, then ran his eyes up and down, scrutinizing the singer's clothing.
"Mr. Bongiovi, are you the owner of this car?"
"Yes sir."
The officer stepped back to the police cruiser and talked on the radio for a moment.
"Fuckin' shit," Richie exasperated as he watched the activity in the rear view mirror.
"How long you think he was there behind us?"
"Fuck if I know."
The officer came back to the Viper's driver side.
"Can I ask what you two are doing trespassing on private property?"
"Um, we just . . ." Jon fumbled.
"We pulled off the road to switch places, I wanted to drive for a while," Richie recovered. He held up his driver's license before giving the officer a chance to ask for it. He and it too were scrutinized carefully before the officer handed it back to him.
The policeman continued looking around the interior of the car, his eyes coming to a rest on the wet spots on the leather. He looked at the two occupants and his brow furrowed. He put his sunglasses back on and shook his head.
"Mr. Bongiovi, Mr. Sambora, I suggest you leave the premises immediately. Find a more populated area to change positions in the future. It's not wise to be so hidden from traffic in case something happens."
They both yes sir'd the officer as he spun around and headed back to the cruiser.
Jon let out the breath he'd been holding and finally tucked himself in and zipped up.
"Jesus, Rich, ya happy now?" he laughed as he threw his wallet back into the console and slammed the lid down.
Richie just smiled as he backed out, waiting for the cop to pull out onto the road. He headed back to the gas station, hoping to find cold beer.