3. Pinkpop

Pumping, pumping, pumping.

Two months later. I was in my minivan on my way to Landgraaf. Big Rock festival. Pinkpop. I was alone because Robert was there already, together with the sound technician Arnold.

Pumping, pumping, pumping.

I had lost 3 kilos of weight those months. Because I was in love. Well, love, I was craving for that little gorgeous crazy elf. That lead singer. They had been busy. Lots, lots of gigs. They were famous now.
And I was alone, and horny.

I liked driving my little Renault minivan. It was not only a van, but also a shed. I kept my bike in it some nights. I could move things. It was full of stuff, clothes, shopping bags, food, pillows, crates. Things. And my car had a really good CD/radio player. Only, I did not play much music on it. That debut album. Only that. Oh well, a bit of other music too. RHCP. I'm a bit autistic when it comes to music. I can listen to one album for months and never get bored. That's why I almost never listen to the radio. Makes me nervous.

Pumping, pumping, pumping.

The pumping in my head. Well. It was a fantasy. The little tease had woken something in me. And I was on fire. All the time. I was glad it was raining. At least my head was cool.

The venue was big. And they played the main stage. National Television was there. All colleagues. And we agreed to use each other's footage when needed. Arnold, Robert and I were used to working together so they knew what I wanted and so we kind of split up. I could do some research, while they were rolling.

I was wet, very wet with rain when the first notes of the opening song blasted through the speakers. Because I had a press card and a backstage pass I could walk anywhere and I was right in front, almost with my nose against the stage when I saw him climbing in the scaffolds. Intense, wild look on his face. Focused.

One moment I thought he saw me. Our eyes locked. Only for a while. As if the world stopped turning. But the show went on and he and the band gave the best they had. As they had done for the last months. And the audience went mad. Best show ever! And all the while it was raining and it was cold. And he was steaming. He was hot and steaming. Even though I had work to do I could only look up, with my mouth open. He was a roaring lion. He was even more powerful than I could remember in those small clubs.

And then. "Thanks very much. We will never forget this." And of he went. Of the stage. With his pink towel he was standing there. With his head hanging low. Leaning against the railing. Exhausted.
I almost ran towards him. Grabbed him by the arm and supported him away. Away from the mass, away from all those people that wanted him. I leaded him away, almost carrying as if he were a ragdoll. And dazed, he came with me.

To my car, my purple minivan.

I opened the back doors, threw some stuff out. Took some pillows. Arranged them. And laid some towels over them. Climbed in. Took his hand and pulled him in also.

He was surprised and empty. A half dazed smile on his face.

As I leaned forward I took his face in my hands, held him by his big beautiful shaped ears and pulled him towards me. I kissed him softly, tender, lovingly. And when he kissed me back I shoved my tongue in his mouth and started to explore. Our kiss became deeper and wilder. And we began to breathe harder, louder, the breathing became moaning. I tried to pull of his shirt and mine too. Oh, our skins touching.

I pushed him at his back and began fumbling at his shorts. Almost ribbed them off. Banged my head while doing so. He laughed. A husky sound.

Then quiet. I saw him. On his back. Shorts halfway on his knees. Shirtless. Wet.

He was so beautiful. I was floating. His erect penis. It was huge. Smooth. And I was hungry. Hungry with lust.

I crawled on him. Kissed his balls, licked them, and gulped one softly up with my tongue, inside my mouth.  His respiration a hissing sound.

Then I moved the back of my tongue over his shaft, from the root to the top, and filled my mouth with his shiny big cock. I intended to suck him dry. Moved my mouth over his rod, slow, soft, wild, hard, soft. And he was meowing like a lion cub. Even roaring. His fingers clawing in my hair.

Then he suddenly said, "enough."

And drew me up and kissed my face, my mouth. Long and deep. Undid my jeans, my bra, cupped my breasts and nipped my nipples. Softly. Teasingly.

He then positioned my hips above his so he could move his top along my mount and stimulate my clit while doing so. I moved his hands away from me. Above his head, I held them. And with one hand firmly around his club I glided over it.* He was almost too much for me. I inhaled sharply. Then I started moving. Moving. And so did he. The moving became so wild, it was pumping. Pumping. Pumping. Oh, we were desperate it seemed.

Sometimes I pride myself on being the inspiration for the intermezzo in Blood, because that is the sound we made.

And then I turned into earth, into clay, my blood started singing and my breathing became deep and soaring. I know how my vulva must have been tightening because he stopped breathing and making noises. He became rigid and the white of his eyes was showing. And with a thunderous cry we both came.

Silence.

And we started laughing. And crying. I don't know why we cried. But we did. We held each other and sobbed. We sobbed smiling. I was in his lap. He caressed my face. I snuggled against him. Much later I took a towel and tried to dry him. Clean him up a bit. Clean myself up a bit. Tried to straighten my hair. Pull a normal face. Open the door of the van. Step into the world.

No words were spoken. Only our eyes and hearts spoke. One last kiss, a regretful smile and then he walked away.

*Even in fantasy a condom is used.