The View From My Knees

If you haven’t already, be sure to read part 1

I awoke in my tent late in the afternoon, sweating and dehydrated. Despite my discomfort, I lay in bed for a few extra minutes, reminiscing about my kiss from the night before. Nervous to see him again, I tried to clean up and picked out a cute outfit before emerging from my tent. Most of the camp was bustling around making breakfast while Mechanic was busy fixing a bike. Doing my best to act cool, I walked into the kitchen area and greeted everyone. When he looked up from his project, I managed to hold my composure while flashing him a smile. “Good morning,” I said warmly, then quickly went to work on my own breakfast.

As the day went on, I found excuses to sit next to him, stand near him, or talk to him. Fingers pulled me aside and gave me some advice. “He’s definitely into you, ” he started. “You should play hard to get. I bet he’d chase you.”

“But I don’t know how to play hard to get!” I admitted. It was true; it had been a long time since I’d played any dating games. And as fun as a little chase might be, it was getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of him. Still, I thought Fingers may have be on to something. “I suppose I could give it a try,” I concluded.

As the afternoon sun beat down, the members of our camp gathered in the shaded dome to relax. When I arrived, I saw that there was an empty chair next to Mechanic, but I hesitated. Remembering Fingers’ advice, I opted for a position on a loveseat further away. Thinking back, it seems a little silly that the best way I could play hard to get was to sit a few seats away from the object of my desire, but cut me some slack, alright? It was tough enough to even do that.

After resting awhile, I decided it was finally time to erect my beloved stripper pole to provide some entertainment for the camp. Lucky and I got to work setting up a sound system and getting our playlist ready. I practiced some spins and demonstrated some moves to volunteer dancers we pulled in from the street, but with Mechanic and the rest of our camp watching, I was feeling a little too shy to do a full performance. I knew I had to do something to get over this silly bout of shyness. After all, this was my pole. I had to show off a little. I knelt at the laptop that had been providing our soundtrack and turned on my favorite pole dancing song. This song had been my theme during my introduction to the craft the previous year, and I knew that if this couldn’t motivate me, nothing could. As the distorted guitar licks of Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch pounded through the speakers, I walked toward the stage and began to dance. Almost immediately, I forgot about being shy. I owned that nasty rock song, and I commanded the attention of my audience. I gyrated against the pole and ran my hands seductively along my body. I wrapped my legs around the shiny steel and spun around. I locked eyes with each spectator, briefly dancing only for him or her in those few moments. It was only when my eyes met his that I couldn’t pull myself away. Suddenly, I really was dancing only for him, my Mechanic. I didn’t care who else was watching. Every move of my hips, every caress of my body, every smile was for him. A few times, I forced myself to pull my gaze from his, giving the rest of the audience a passing glance, but I always went back to him.

I danced to a few more songs after that, and it was always the same. No matter who was watching, no matter how hard I tried to give the rest of my audience some attention, I always went back to him. I wanted him – badly – and I wanted him to want me, too. Soon, however, I grew tired and needed a break, so I took my place in the audience on a large cushion on the ground. Mechanic joined me, and while we cuddled up together, Fingers used his megaphone to lure passersby, usually hot half-naked women, onto our pole. Our cuddling soon turned to kissing and caressing, and day soon turned to night. One by one, our campmates either passed out from drinking or left to go exploring, leaving just the two of us. We took advantage of our time alone together and picked up where we’d left off the night before.

Eventually, we took a break from making out long enough to make ourselves some dinner. Just as we’d finished eating, a group of our campmates returned. Giggly and probably a little bit high, they encouraged us to join them as they explored the Playa. What I really wanted to do was stay at camp and explore my new friendship more intimately, but their elation was contagious, so I thought it might be fun to go out for a little while. “You wanna go?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

We grabbed our bikes, and the six of us rode off into the desert night. We all laughed and joked with each other as we explored the art installations scattered about the Playa. I was having a good time, but I was distracted. So was he. Any time we weren’t racing along on our bikes, we kept our hands warm by running them all over each other’s bodies. While the others closely inspected an exhibit, we stared into each other’s eyes with intense desire. We found ourselves lip-locked at every opportunity. At times it seemed as if we’d forgotten there was anyone around us. Finally, we decided we couldn’t delay any longer. As we waited outside of an installation for our friends to return, I asked an innocent question with a very obvious intent. “What do you want to do next? Do you want to keep going?”

“No,” he replied. He didn’t need to say more. I knew it was time.

We managed to hold out for our friends to return so we could tell them we were heading back to camp. “You guys should have fucked earlier so you could stay out with us,” they teased.

I giggled and looked at him. He was laughing, too, but behind that smile I could see the lust. It was time to go.

The ride back to camp was quick and silent. We were on a mission, and nothing was going to slow us down. When we arrived, we parked our bikes and stood at the entrance to our camp for a moment, looking at each other. We’d ridden all this way, and we both knew why, but neither of us knew exactly how to move on to the next obvious step. “What do you want to do now?” he asked me.

I knew it was up to me to move forward. Gathering up my courage, I kissed him and replied, “I want you to take me back to your tent.”

He grinned and his eyes sparkled. He walked me back to his tent and climbed in ahead of me to clear the way. Once he’d cleaned up a bit, I removed my shoes, climbed inside, and squirmed around for a comfortable position on his air mattress. We began to kiss and grope, which soon led to licking and sucking. He placed his head between my legs, and my body tensed at the touch of his skilled tongue. When it was my turn to pleasure him, I applied lubricant from my sex travel kit, which I’d grabbed from my tent, to aid my dry mouth as I devoured his cock. I grew frustrated as the cheap brand became sticky on his shaft, until I finally had to give up. It was no matter, all of this foreplay was getting in the way of what I really wanted: his hard cock inside of me. He slipped on a condom and crawled between my eager legs. I rolled my eyes and tilted my head back, moaning with delight as he entered me. Slowly, he began to move his hips between my thighs, our bodies writhing together in a way that sent ripples of ecstasy through my body. When I managed to open my eyes long enough to look at at him, I saw him smiling down at me, obviously enjoying our passion as much as I was. It felt as if our bodies had been crafted to fit together, with every nook and cranny fitting into place for maximum enjoyment.

Thinking back, I’m not sure if it was the way our bodies moved together or the passion we’d built up throughout the day that made it so incredibly hot. Probably both. It doesn’t really matter: it was one of the most amazing sexual experiences I’ve shared with a lover. Each thrust was more mind-blowing than the last. It wasn’t long before I felt my entire body overtaken by waves of earth-shattering orgasms. Soon after, I felt his cock convulsing inside of me as he came.

Afterward, we lay beside each other in a sweaty heap taking sips from a water bottle. “That was fucking amazing,” I gushed.

He smiled and, in his understated way, said, “yeah, that was pretty fucking good.”

We lay together, reflecting on our encounter for a while longer. Then, finally, I kissed him goodnight and returned to my tent where Lucky slept soundly in a drunken slumber.

Read part 3