tagGroup SexBrad's Road Trip Ch. 16

Brad's Road Trip Ch. 16

bySpotInTheSand©

Like I said at the end of 15... this one was already written, so, the quick turnaround. Voila.

This one is fairly long. I normally prioritize writing plot, with the sex still prominent but in a secondary role. I feel like I've done that here, too, but this one could also be used as a stroke story. More than half of it is one long sex scene, and outside of the main character, everyone involved in the sex either debuts in this chapter or has had only very brief appearances prior to this. The readers who generally skim the sex to get back to the plot will be skimming a lot toward the end - but be careful, because there is some plot stuff with Kelly mixed in. Likewise, the readers who tolerate the plot to get to the sex will be happier as it gets toward the end.

I could have put this in a few different categories. There's anal sex and interracial sex, a little bit of voyeurism, and one of the best one-on-one sex scenes I think I've ever written. But the crux of the hookup is satisfying a group sex fantasy, so that's where I put this one.

As always, thanks to my editor, AnInsatiableReader, for helping me clean this thing up. When I send it to her, it looks nothing like the finished product you're about to read.


*****

Day 15

Thursday, June 26

Denver, CO to Grand Junction, CO

Sleeping in was such a foreign concept to me that when I woke up the next morning, alone in my hotel room with no alarm clock or phone ringing, I briefly panicked.

What day was it? Did I miss a wake-up call? Was I going to miss a concert or a baseball game or something? Was I supposed to call Kelly?

Slowly, my brain began to focus as I remembered where I was and what my plans were for the day. The bedside alarm clock told me it was just a little after 9. Kelly and I had stayed up well past 1 rehashing my early evening trysts with Lisa, so I'd gotten my standard eight hours of sleep. Grand Junction was only a 4-hour drive west on I-70, and the main concerts didn't start till after 7, so I was doing well on time.

Tonight was the first night of Country Jam USA, a four-day country music festival in western Colorado. It was similar to what I did in Oklahoma two weekends ago, except then I was by myself and had planned to stay in a hotel until I met Paul and his friends... and his girlfriend... and his friend's sister... etc. This time I was meeting up with some friends who had long since reserved a camp site. My time in hotels was finally over; the next three days would be filled with sleeping bags, tents, alcohol and lots and lots of live music.

The only thing blocking it from perfection was the fact that Kelly wouldn't be there, but it wouldn't be too much longer. It was hard to believe that after all this buildup, I'd be seeing her in just four days. Grand Junction was a three-day stop, but it was the last stop; when I packed up to leave there, I'd be heading to my parents' house.

Much to my chagrin, we had to skip our usual morning conversation because she'd had to go in at 7:30. Food inspectors were visiting her restaurant today, and then she worked until 4 in the afternoon. I was really hoping she'd get her packages today, but I wouldn't find out until well after the music started.

As I looked in the mirror, I thought about our chat last night and couldn't help but smile with my toothbrush sticking out of my mouth. That was pretty much par for the course with her. Every time I hung up the phone, I thought we'd just had the best conversation we could ever have. She always proved me wrong with the very next call.

The phone sex was incredible, of course - just thinking about how many times she'd fingered herself to an orgasm while I told her about going down on Lisa last night was bringing my sleeping cock back to life in a hurry - but our connection went so far beyond that. The more I learned about her, the more I liked her. We shared a lot of the same life goals, we'd had similar upbringings and there was literally nothing we couldn't discuss. She just fit me, in every way imaginable, and the thought that our connection might not be real when we finally met in person made me a little nauseous.

I checked my phone and saw that she'd called at 6:30 in the morning. That was odd, since she knew I wouldn't be awake, but then I saw that I had a voicemail. I started the water in the shower before hitting the button to listen to her message.

"I know you're sleeping, baby," she said, her voice primed and ready to work a 1-900 line. "But I just wanted to thank you for last night. I can't wait until you can make those memories directly with me, but I love how hot you get me just using your voice."

I wondered if she was playing with herself on my voicemail, and I got my answer with her next sentence.

"I'm so fucking wet right now, Brad," she mewled into the phone. "I'm always wet these days, because of you. I love how hard you came from fucking Lisa's tits. Mine aren't nearly that big, but my friend Sarah, the one from the club... her tits are huge. I bet she'd let you stick your cock between them. She's pretty freaky, but I might have to convince her. Do you think you'd enjoy watching me eat her pussy while you fucked her tits, baby? Maybe when you came, you'd cum so hard that you'd hit me in the face, while I licked her pussy..."

Her description devolved into a bunch of jibberish as she brought herself off with her fingers. My cock stuck out lewdly and looked downright angry.

"Fuck, Brad," she said. "I want you so bad. Have a good day, baby."

I was suddenly glad I was getting in the shower.

*************************************

I pulled up to the house my GPS had directed me to a little after 2:30, having made pretty dang good time on I-70. I'd heard a lot about the person I was here to pick up, but I'd never met her, so I really had no idea what to expect. I sent a text to her number, letting her know I was outside, then got out and walked toward the door.

It opened before I got there, and a woman with long, curly blonde hair walked out. It was a hot day and she was definitely dressed for it, wearing barely legal shorts and a tank top that covered up only what it had to to avoid jail. She was fairly well-endowed, and I did my best to make eye contact with her before I stared a hole in her tank top. Or at least, I tried to make eye contact with her; her imitation Ray-Bans blocked me from seeing her eyes.

"Are you Brad?" she asked as she walked toward me.

"I am," I said. "Liz?"

"That's me," she said. "Nice to meet you. Sara talks about you sometimes."

"Likewise, on both accounts," I agreed. We shook hands. "Ready to go?"

"Just about," she said. "My dad dug a bunch of stuff out of the attic, and it's over here in the garage. No idea what it is, but Sara said you were going to take it all over to the campsite."

"That's the plan," I said. "Is she in town yet?"

"About two hours," she told me. "She's at the airport in Denver waiting for her connecting flight out here."

"Ah," I said. "Well, let me get this stuff loaded up, and we can head out."

"Okay," she said. "I'm gonna go in and finish my makeup, then I'll be ready."

I nodded and grinned as I walked over to the pile of gear. I had no idea why she was putting on makeup. For one, it was so hot she'd sweat it off before anyone she wanted to impress had seen it. Unless, of course, she was trying to impress me, in which case, she didn't really need the makeup.

Sara was in the Air Force, and her unit worked the same mission as mine at Lackland, back in San Antonio. Of course, I knew her better as Airman Winters, and she knew me better as Sergeant Carver, but we had a little bit of history that involved using first names. She'd grown up in Grand Junction and took a week of leave to come home and go to the concerts.

Liz was Sara's best friend in high school. Sara and I weren't the kind of friends that hung out a lot outside of work, but we worked together enough that I heard about her friends from time to time. Especially when we'd decided to meet up out here, she told me we could get all the gear we needed from Liz, but cautioned me about her as well.

"I love her to death, and she's a great friend," Sara had told me.

"I sense a 'but' coming," I'd answered.

"I'm just saying, Brad. It's gonna be the end of June, but you need to watch out for flakes."

I'd laughed then, but now that we'd met, Liz didn't seem too ditzy to me. Of course, it was just one conversation, and a short one at that.

I walked over to the garage and started loading the stuff into the back seat and trunk of my Stratus. There were three tents, a half dozen sleeping bags and some other camping gear. With all the stuff from my road trip plus a computer in there, it was a tight fit, but I made it work.

Liz walked back out of the house with a man I assumed was her father. He walked over to the garage and seemed surprised to find all the gear gone.

"Got it all packed in?" he asked.

"Yep," I said. "I appreciate you letting us borrow everything, sir. I have plenty of my own camping stuff, but it's all back home in Idaho."

"No problem," he said. "Just take care of it and bring it all back the way you got it. If you have any questions about any of it, just let me know."

"I'm sure the two of us can figure it out," I said as Liz got into the passenger seat of my car.

"I love my daughter, son," he said. "But she won't be any kind of help. I'm surprised she's even willing to sleep in a tent."

I chuckled and shook his hand before getting into the car.

The drive took maybe 20 minutes, and we kept the conversation light. Liz already knew I was on a road trip from talking to Sara, but I gave her some of the details - basic places and events, but not the real juicy stuff. She was majoring in sociology at Mesa State in Grand Junction, and mentioned that some of her classmates were going to be camping out here as well.

The campgrounds here were very much the same as the Oklahoma festival. Sara had reserved two camping sites, which gave us space to park four cars. Like Paul back in Tulsa, Sara had reserved late and had to settle for spots in the quiet zone. We checked in at the front gate, and they gave me a map to our spot.

Liz offered to help, but really, pitching a tent was pretty simple, so I told her I'd be fine. She nodded and sat on a picnic table and watched me work. As I worked, I'd occasionally help myself to a view of her long, tanned legs as they hung over the side of the table. She caught me staring once or twice, but I didn't care, and she smiled back at me each time, so I guess she didn't either.

Tarps went down across the camping area first, followed by the three tents, which I set up in a semicircle. There were two four-man tents and one six-man tent; in other words, we had room for 14 people, and only planned on having five people stay here.

I was all alone in one of the four-man tents on the outside, with Liz and Sara sharing the other one in the middle. Chad and Russ, my roommates in San Antonio, were road tripping up here to meet us. They were due in sometime tonight, and would share the six-man tent on the other side. Russ had told me he planned to bag a different girl each night, and Chad would probably do that without even trying. I figured they could use the extra space.

As I finished setting up the big tent, I noticed Liz was playing on her phone. When I started throwing sleeping bags into the tents, she got up and walked toward me.

"My friends from school are a few rows over that way," Liz said, pointing toward the concert grounds. "You want to come meet them?"

"Sure," I said, zipping up the tents and locking my car before we headed out. We found her friends in a few minutes. There were two guys and three girls, all of whom went to Mesa State. One of the girls, Lindsay, played on the school's soccer team, and hers was the only name I could remember five minutes later.

We all agreed to head to the concert area to catch the unknown local bands who tended to fill the afternoon slots at these things, but on the way there I saw something that caught my attention. There was a huge RV parked in a slot right along the main walking lane, and on the side was a gigantic United States Marine Corps logo. The screen door was closed, but the inner door was open, and I could hear noises coming from inside.

"Liz, I'm gonna see who's in here," I said. "I always like to say hi to a fellow Marine. I'll catch up with you guys later." Liz nodded and kept chatting with her friends, but Lindsay gave me a shy smile and a little wave as they walked off. I filed that detail for later.

I knocked on the door to the RV and waited. Within seconds, a man walked off a Marine Corps recruiting poster and up to the door.

"Hi, can I help you?" he asked.

"Just wanted to say hi to a fellow devil dog, especially one who displays it as loud and proud as you guys," I said. "I'm Sergeant Brad Carver."

"Glad to meet you, Sgt. Carver," he said, opening the door and motioning me in. "Gunny Granger." We exchanged a firm handshake. It didn't surprise me that he didn't give his first name. For most gunnery sergeants, Gunny was their first name. "What brings you up here?"

"On terminal leave from an intelligence company down in Texas," I said. I looked around the RV and saw Marine Corps stuff everywhere. Bumper stickers, recruiting brochures, posters, etc. "I'm from Idaho, and stopped here to meet up with some friends on my way back home. There are a couple more Marines coming up here later tonight. What about you?"

"We're recruiters," he said. I'd guessed something like that. "I'm based in Denver, along with one of the sergeants here. The other two are based in Grand Junction."

"Nice," I said. "What are you guys doing out here, though?"

"You been to one of these little shindigs, sergeant?" he asked.

"In Oklahoma, a couple weeks ago," I said.

"Well, out here anyway, the thing's like a county fair," he said. "Sure, there's the music, but there's a bunch of booths for just about every damn thing; you know, food, crafts, games, all that. We set up a booth out there, offering information about enlistment."

"You guys have any success?" I asked.

"Actually, yeah," he said. "You know, we get our share of drunks stumbling in there acting like badasses, the ones who wouldn't last a day at boot camp. But we probably sign up two or three a year at this thing."

"That's great," I said. "There are four of you here, then?"

"Yeah," he said. "Sgts. Marks and Callahan are working the booth right now. Myself and Sgt. Andrews will go get them out in a couple hours." As he spoke, I heard a toilet flush, and a door opened a few moments later. "Speaking of Sgt. Andrews," he said.

Gunny hadn't mentioned it, so I was slightly caught off guard to learn that Sgt. Andrews was a woman. Her yellowish blonde hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and she had the typical Marine body - tight and athletic with plenty of muscle but not enough to suspect anything illegal. Her face was nothing special, but I found myself attracted to her anyway. She was wearing camouflage utilities, but her blouse hung over a chair in the RV's kitchen. Her breasts weren't huge but they made more than a dent pushed out against the Marine standard-issue olive green undershirt.

"Hi," I said, walking toward her with my hand outstretched. "I'm Sgt. Carver, but I'm on leave right now, so call me Brad."

"Sgt. Andrews," she answered with a smile, her handshake almost as firm as the gunny's. "Janine."

I noticed her giving me the once over as well, and I didn't see any rings. She looked to be about my age, but she was probably a couple years older, at least, if she was already a recruiter.

She intrigued me. Lackland was an Air Force base, but the intelligence outfit I was attached to had members of all four armed services - Air Force, Army, Navy and Marines - as well as some foreign military members. I'd had sex with an air(wo)man, a soldier and a sailor, and I'd even managed to score a drunken blowjob from one of the British military girls assigned to the unit. But somehow, one thing I'd never done was have sex with a fellow Marine.

It wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but I saw an opportunity to check a box.

"So do you guys get to go to the concerts at all, or is it all work?" I asked.

"We work till the sun goes down," she said. She might have been checking me out and silently flirting with me, but she was a Marine NCO. If she was shy, she'd have been an exception to the rule. "We can do whatever we want after that."

"You guys coming to the Clay Walker show then? Guessing it'll start well after sunset."

"I'll be there," Gunny said. "My wife is here, and she's a big fan. Not sure about the rest."

"I hadn't decided yet," Janine said.

"Well, you should," I replied, hoping she got my meaning. "Like I was telling Gunny, I've got some other friends here. There are two other Marines coming tonight, too. I'm not sure if they'll be here for the show, but even if they aren't, there'll be a bunch of us watching."

"Swing by the booth out on the fairgrounds around dusk," she said. Then she turned to Gunny: "Wait, I have the last shift, right?"

"You do now," he said with a knowing grin. I was a little surprised he was helping out.

"That settles that," I said. "Janine, Gunny, it was great to meet you. If you need any fleet Marines to talk to your prospects... well, I'm not sure an intel flunky stationed at an Air Force base qualifies, but I'll be glad to help you guys out."

Janine looked the question at me, and I realized she'd been in the bathroom when I was telling Gunny about myself. "He'll explain." I said. "Or, I will later."

She smiled at me as I left the RV.

**************************

"Hey, honey," I said, answering the phone. "How was your day?"

I was vaguely aware that the me from three weeks ago would have promptly yanked today me's man card for using a pet name and asking such a question. However, I was acutely aware that today me would willingly whoop the old me's ass.

"As good as it can be when the mass production of tacos is involved," she said. "I was supposed to work until 4, but I'm just leaving now and it's a quarter till 5."

So she hadn't made it home yet, I thought. Damnit.

"How'd the inspection go?" I asked. I was sitting by myself at a long table under a canopy near the beer booths. It was 90-plus degrees outside, and I was trying to stay cool until sundown, still at least three hours away.

"Fine," she said. "I have an assistant manager who is average at working the line and downright awful at handling people, but she's outstanding at knowing rules, making sure we're in compliance with them and documenting everything. I hardly pay attention to the safety regulations anymore, because I know she's got it."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Everyone has to be good at something. You know, not everyone out there is like you, Brad, good at every-fucking-thing."

"Hey," I said. "I'm not good at everything. You should see me play golf. It's a damned Greek tragedy."

"I played golf in high school," she said. "I was horrible at it, too, but I got a little better during my senior year. I only played because I really liked the coach and he needed one more player to fill out his roster."

"I played baseball in high school, and we made fun of the golfers," I said.

"Yeah, and most of you guys will be building the golfers' houses in a few years," she giggled.

"True enough," I said. "Not me though. I'll make my old teammates mow my lawn."

"Really, now," she said. "And what kind of grand plans does Brad Carver have for the future?"

"You really want to know?" I asked. I hadn't really discussed it with anyone outside of those who'd be directly involved. Even my parents didn't know.

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