The air was dry and hot. A dusty breeze, scented with baked dirt and the mellow tartness of horseshit, bent the sparse grass. The thin tie straps hanging off the saddle danced in the wind. Jon turned his face so his shoulder length hair flowed back behind him. This was his second horseback riding lesson of the week. The wide, open spaces of Arizona were much different than the riding trails in Central Park.
The movie's animal wrangler assigned Jon a horse that he called "a real pussycat." Supposedly, this horse would be easy to ride for the inexperienced cowboy. The horse was sorrel in color; a rusty light brown with streaks of even lighter brown in her mane, and her name was Tiger. A strawberry blonde, the kind the singer knew to stay away from, but, oh well.
To make things even more interesting, Richie had joined him today on the set. An even less experienced rider, he looked a little wary when he was handed the reins to a flaxen-maned palomino called Jezebel. Not even close to being a dumb blonde by the look in her eye.
Jon hiked his foot up into the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn with his left hand and hauled himself up onto Tiger's back, swung over and planted his ass in the saddle. He found his right stirrup, settled in the seat, got the reins comfortable in his right hand and reined around to face Richie, who was still on the ground.
The saddle leather creaked under his weight and he felt the strength of the animal between his legs. He patted Tiger's neck to make sure she knew he was confident they'd get along. She cocked an ear back and swished her tail.
"Get on, man," Jon said as he walked Tiger around in a tight circle.
Richie looked up at Jon and scowled.
"If I break my fuckin' neck, you'll be lookin' for another guitarist."
Jon laughed, "You ain't gonna break your neck, this ain't the rodeo. These are professionally trained horses."
Richie gripped the saddle horn in his left hand and the cantle in his right. He lifted his left leg and slid his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself off the ground. Not familiar with how to shift his weight to maneuver his leg over the horse's back, he maintained that position for a few seconds before dropping his right foot back to the ground.
"How the fuck did you do that?"
"What? Get on? Don't put your hand on the back or you can't get your leg over."
Richie tried it again, this time with both hands on the saddle horn. He attempted to swing his leg over but at that moment, Jezebel thought it would be a good time to take a side step away from her would be rider. Richie let go and stumbled back, his foot almost getting caught in the stirrup.
"God dammit," Richie swore and Jezebel turned her head and looked at him. "What the fuck are you lookin' at?" Jezebel turned her head away and sighed heavily as if to say, "God help me, not another greenhorn." She may have even rolled her eyes, but he couldn't tell from where he was standing.
Jon was quaking with laughter as he watched Richie try once again to mount his horse. Finally, he managed to swing his leg over, set his feet in the stirrups and lifted the reins.
"Now what?"
"These horses are trained to react to the signals you give with your feet, legs and hands."
Richie lifted his left hand, bent at the elbow, as if he was raising his hand to ask the teacher a question.
"What?" Jon stopped his horse in front of Jezebel and Richie.
"Nothin', I'm signaling with my hand like you said-a right turn." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the imaginary traffic behind him was not going to rear end them.
Jon rolled his eyes, reined Tiger to the right and gave her a nudge with his heels. She began to walk away to join the group of other movie extras who were being given directions. The trail boss was giving last minute instructions on what to do out in the desert. Jon knew they were missing important information.
Being on the set of a movie was new to Jon. He'd never considered acting before, but watching how they made it all come together fascinated him. He was hesitant when his friend Emilio asked him to hang out while they were shooting, but now that he'd been here in Old Tucson all week, he knew something had bit him and he was hooked.
"WAIT DAMMIT!" Richie yelled, Jezebel cocked her ears back at her rider, standing still, waiting patiently to be told what to do. She shifted her weight, let out another bored sigh and yawned, her big yellow teeth visible when she opened her jaws. She shook her head as if trying to keep herself awake until her rider decided to shit or get off the pot.
Jon turned his horse around again. He studied the beleaguered guitarist. Richie had on a pair of faded torn jeans, his dark hair streaming out from under his dusty black felt hat. The sun glinted off the silver conchos surrounding his hatband. His t-shirt was from a New York guitar shop, it had a faded bleeding skull on the front. Probably had had the shirt since high school, Jon guessed.
Jon had on almost the same uniform except his shirt was borrowed from the movie's wardrobe, a dingy white linen, old time collarless cowboy shirt. He'd left the first four buttons undone for the sake of staying cooler in the desert heat. He'd rolled up the sleeves and left the shirttail out. Being a cowboy was pretty cool he thought, open range, guns, horses, hats, boots and all that shit. Too bad he had grown up a city boy.
Earlier he had shown off his prowess at gun twirling. Richie seemed quite impressed when Jon holstered his Smith and Wesson pistol after a dazzling display of spinning. Yeah, he could get used to living like this, making movies and learning new and useless skills.
He pushed his hat back off his forehead and leaned back in the saddle. They were about to get left behind, so Richie's first lesson had to come from Jon and it had to be quick.
"Nudge her with your heels to make her go forward," he instructed. Richie tapped Jezebel's belly and sure enough, here she goes. A wide grin broke over the guitarist's face, but faded quickly as Jezebel walked past Jon and Tiger and kept going-in the opposite direction of the group.
"Now what?" Richie called as Jezzie kept going.
"Pull back on the reins to make her stop," Jon called after him.
Richie yanked back with both hands and Jezebel threw up her head, backed up on her haunches and proceeded to dump the guitarist on his ass on the ground.
"SHIT!" Richie yelled as he slid off the horse's rump.
Jon kicked Tiger and trotted over to where the guitarist sat in the dust. The crowd of extras had gone silent and were looking their way. He waved them off, assuring them that they shouldn't be alarmed. Just another cowpoke biting the dust.
Jon leaned over in the saddle and tried to keep his voice down, "Don't yank so hard next time," he said.
"No fuckin' shit," Richie said sarcastically. He got up, dusted his ass off and trudged over to where Jezzie had come to a stop. He mounted with more skill this time. He glared at Jon when his feet found the stirrups.
"If you want her to turn, lay the reins on either side of her neck. They'll turn away from the rein," Jon demonstrated by turning Tiger to the left, away from Richie, by laying the right rein against her neck. After they'd made a 360 degree turn, he rested his reining hand on the saddle horn.
"Grip with your legs to keep yourself from falling off next time," he added with a smirk.
Richie tried to duplicate the action by turning Jezzie in a circle. After the horse made the turn and stopped, he smiled, gaining his confidence back.
"Nothin' to it," he winked at Jon. Jon smirked and nudged Tiger forward. He and Richie joined the rest of the group.
"Today, we're gonna take a little trail ride, kids, not very far, but enough to develop a few good saddle sores. Then tomorrow ya'll should be able to join the more experienced extras and the movie people will block the scene before shooting. Let's head out!" the trail boss swung his handsome paint gelding around and trotted off into the desert. The group of 15 or so riders followed him, breaking off into several smaller groups as they put distance between them and the horse corral, Jon and Richie trailing them. They walked along, picking their way through the scrabble of rocks and cactus, spotting a lizard or roadrunner occasionally dash off to safety under the shade of a bush. They rode in silence, the sounds of some strange desert insect buzzing, creaking leather and the horse's feet clopping along were the only sounds.
They rounded an outcropping of rock, tall dusty red and orange boulders stacked on top of each other. The group had gotten 50 or 60 yards in front of them and eventually, they lost sight of them.
"This ain't so bad," Richie finally said, he'd gotten comfortable with the rhythm of the horse walking, right hand with the reins resting on the saddle horn, the other hand resting on his thigh. Jon smiled at his friend. The morning sun was at just the right angle to gleam off the golden earring hanging on Richie's ear lobe. Jon let his gaze work down the guitarist's body and couldn't help feeling a tingle when he saw the well defined muscles in Richie's legs flex.
Jon looked up and realized they were getting too far behind.
"We need to catch up," he said and he kicked Tiger with his heels. She started to speed up into a trot, then a slow canter. His shoulder length hair flew out behind him and he had to put one hand on his hat to keep it from flying off.
He looked back and signaled Richie to hurry. Richie gave Jezzie a kick and she took off into a loping canter. But Richie wasn't ready for this as he bounced hard up and down. Panicking, he yanked back on the reins with both hands and she skidded to a stop, her front hooves leaving the hard desert floor. Richie made his second trip of the day past his horse's tail end.
"GOD DAMMIT!" Richie screamed again. Jezebel had had enough of all this screaming and yelling and decided it was time to head back to the corral for more breakfast. She turned and began walking, then trotting back in the direction they'd come.
Jon swung Tiger around and cantered back to the guitarist. He reached Richie in time to see Jezebel disappear around the bend. She was gone--no catching her now unless they went all the way back to the corral.
"FUCK!" Richie swore again and he stood and dusted himself off. Jon tried desperately to stifle his laughter but when Richie caught his eye, he began laughing too. Jon dismounted, pulled the reins over his horse's head and walked over to the guitarist with Tiger close behind.
"God dammit, a blonde will fuck you over every time. Listen to your older, wiser buddy, man. Words of wisdom."
"Well, we can both get on my horse and catch up with the rest, or we can go back and see if we can beg your horse for one more chance," Jon smiled. Richie shifted his weight, dusted his hat off and placed it back on his head.
Boots scuffing the dry, caked dirt, "Fuck it, let's catch up," Richie finally said.
Jon mounted first, then helped Richie climb up behind him. Richie scooted up as close to Jon as he could and held onto the curved cantle. They turned and started off to find the rest of the group. The rocks turned into hills and cliffs. Jon kept the pace at a walk, not feeling confident enough to go faster with the both of them on.
The sun began to do its job of burning everything under it as the morning air began to get hotter.
Jon undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt and let it flutter in the wind. The sun beat down on them and they began to sweat. A few hundred more yards of desert scenery passed and he felt Richie's hand slide over his stomach. He glanced down as the guitarist tucked his fingers down the front of Jon's jeans. Then his other hand reached from behind and landed on Jon's thigh. He felt the weight of the guitarist against his back and then his ear was bathed with a warm wet, tongue. His hat tipped and fell off.
He leaned back into Richie, feeling the sweat begin to form between them. His cock began to swell, making the saddle an uncomfortable place to be. The rocking motion of Tiger's body heightened his arousal even more.
"Rich, stop it," Jon said unconvincingly. Instead, Richie pushed his hand deeper into Jon's jeans, coming into contact with the rising member. He moved his mouth down the singer's neck, pushing the shirt off one shoulder with his free hand. He bit down on Jon's shoulder, breathing in a mixture of sweat and soap.
"Shit, Rich," Jon hissed as he pushed his hips up into Richie's fingers. He undid his jeans allowing Richie's hand to come into full contact with his throbbing rod. Jon surveyed the rough terrain and steered Tiger into the rocks, following a narrow passage just wide enough for the horse and her two passengers.
Richie wrapped his hand around Jon's swollen cock, squeezing it roughly. He began to move his hand up and down it, feeling the stiff muscle under the skin. He unfastened his own jeans, letting his rock hard cock fall out to greet the sun. It began to rub against the cantle of the saddle in front of him. The hard edge raked the tender skin and made him wince.
"Rich . . . I'm . . ." Jon tried to speak but was having great difficulty maintaining his concentration as he kept urging Tiger further into the cover of the tall overhanging stonescape. She picked her way over the rock strewn ground.
Richie began to squeeze and pinch the head of Jon's cock, milking the precum into his fingers. Jon dropped the reins and let Tiger find her own way. He put his hands over Richie's and increased the speed of movement, bringing himself to the verge of climax.
He leaned his head back against Richie, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the fire building in the guitarist's hand, breaths being taken in fits. Tiger finally came to a stop and dropped her head, making sure there was nothing to nibble down on the ground.
For a fleeting moment, Richie considered dismounting so they could take this further, then realized they didn't come prepared. But they could still do more off the horse than on. He released Jon's cock and slid off the back to the ground.
"Where are you goin?" Jon leaned forward when he felt Richie's body move away. He looked down at the guitarist, holding his own cock and leaning against a wall of rock in the shade of an overhang. Jon lifted his left leg over Tiger's neck and jumped down, half zipping his jeans when he touched down, keeping his stiff member still against his body.
A gust of wind blew through the enclosed area, creating a small whirlwind of dust. Richie watched as Jon's shirt and now hatless hair swirled up in the air, the sun bouncing off the sides of stone, making wispy strands glint a deep brassy gold in the light. Jon came toward him, one thumb hooked over the half open zipper, the other hand pushing the hair out of his eyes.
Richie reached for Jon and switched places with him, pushing the singer against the stone wall. He bit and tongued Jon's lips, penetrating the dark warm cavern of the singer's mouth. His hands went to Jon's crotch, pushed the singer's hand away so he could continue where he left off.
His engorged cock now feverishly burned when Richie touched it. Jon placed his own hands behind him, feeling the stone wall and finding it surprisingly cool to the touch. The contrast in sensations sent a thrill through him.
Richie dropped to his knees, pulling Jon's jeans down enough to access everything. He first licked the dripping precum off the tender head, teasing the eye with the tip of his tongue, then encased it in his lips.
Jon could feel the whispery hot breath as Richie worked his cock further down. He couldn't resist gripping both sides of the guitarist's head, guiding his ever-hardening rod deep into Richie's face. Richie took it all in, swallowing and moving his tongue against the thick muscle. Jon began to thrust heartily, fucking Richie's mouth with everything he had.
Jon's balls were seething, the intensity of his orgasm like none he'd ever known when he finally shot his load deep into the guitarist's throat. Richie swallowed and swallowed again as Jon continued pumping load after load. The last twitch of come trickled out and Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood and began to handle his own rock hard cock.
He waited until his heart slowed its wild beating in his chest before pulling up his jeans.
"Let me take care of that for you," Jon said hoarsely as he gripped Richie's cock with both hands, giving him a two-fisted pump. Richie leaned against Jon, burying his face in the singer's hair as his hips kept rhythm. Jon pushed him away, and once again, they switched places, Richie leaning against the rock.
It was Jon's turn to drop to his knees. He licked the hot tip of Richie's cock, then let it glide into his mouth. He let one hand slip under the guitarist's balls, kneading them in his fingers before moving behind them to find the tight hole. He pushed a finger in, feeling Richie tense and hearing him grunt. He bent his finger toward himself, at the same time moving his head up and down Richie's cock as the guitarist thrust his hips up again.
Richie's cock quivered and a blaze of fire went through him when Jon's finger tickled his prostate. His juices were burning to shoot out. Again and again Jon moved his mouth up and down the guitarist's cock, his broad tongue wrapping itself around the hot smooth flesh, bringing him closer to release. Another prod inside and Jon felt the come hit the back of his throat. He licked Richie clean and used his shirttail to wipe his mouth.
He sat back on the rugged ground, feeling the pebbles bite into the thin worn denim of his jeans. Richie slid down the rock wall to the ground and sat.
They heard a voice and then hooves on the rocks.
"Hey, anybody in there?"
Jon turned and saw Tiger a few yards away. He got up and went over to her, checking his fly, buttoning up. Richie quickly tucked and zipped. The both dusted off, Richie snugging his hat down on his head.
The voice got louder. It was someone on Jezzie looking for them. Apparently, when Jezzie made it back to the corral riderless, someone was sent out.
The assistant wrangler rode up through the rocks and stopped when he spotted the two men.
"We was getting' a little worried, when ol' Jezzie came trottin' up without her date," the cowboy said as he handed Jon his hat, "Found this out there."
"Thanks," Jon nodded toward Richie and laughed as he placed the hat on his head, "he obviously needs more practice."
The wrangler nodded and smiled at Richie. The two men climbed aboard Tiger and they made their way out of the rocks and boulders, following the seasoned rider's path.
The sun was way overhead and the trip back to the corral was hot. But they didn't mind. Hot was good-as often as possible.