Part 3 (1/2)

Nate's mind spun. Sarah and Justin had warned him that things could get wild out here, and his imagination had gone crazy places with that, but never had he imagined something like this. His dream hedonists ... well, they didn't seem to know each other, he realized. Which was why they were imaginary, and this was real.

”I like you Nate. I chose you, because I want to give you something special. You understand?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. ”I won't be a puppy dog.” ”Good. Now come on and show me what you got, champ.”

He was so nervous he was soft, but she knelt before him, sucked him into her warm wet mouth, and he stiffened almost immediately. He'd been with girls back in school, but they were nearly as awkward and unsure as he was. This was different.

”Relax,” she said. ”Just pay attention to what we're doing and how it feels, so you can remember it all later.”

She shrugged herself out of the bodystocking, peeling it down her lean body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were small and round, with a silver ring in her left nipple. He'd never seen one up close before-he'd always a.s.sociated that kind of thing with biker chicks. He reached out a hand, stopped.

”It's okay,” she said. ”It feels good to play with it, just be gentle.” ”Did it hurt?”

She smiled. ”Oh, yes. But I was on E, so it was a good hurt.”

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, then walked her knees up his body until her p.u.s.s.y was right over his face. He finally got a good look at what he'd been too shy to look directly at before: her pubic hair was dyed the same magenta as her hair streak and shaved into the shape of a heart.

He licked, he stroked, he listened. Every gentle direction came with a compliment.

He remembered a crucial mantra hammered into his head during s.e.x ed cla.s.s, braced himself for an awkward intermission. ”So, uh, I have condoms in my bag somewhere ...”

She rolled off of him, produced a condom from thin air, unwrapped it with her teeth, and then took his c.o.c.k in her hands, gave it another long suck, then stroked it gently with both hands as she worked the sheer condom down over his whole length. She shot him a rea.s.suring smile. It was the s.e.xiest thing he'd ever seen.

She crouched over him again, reached between her legs, then leaned forward, and he could see a flash of white teeth and the dark halo of hair around her head as she guided him into her. He felt pressure on the head of his c.o.c.k, a moment of resistance, and then the pressure became a tightness around the head, soft and firm at the same time.

She sat back, driving herself down on him, and he felt a s.h.i.+ver of disbelief in his lower belly as he saw his shaft disappear inside her and then she was f.u.c.king him, rising up above before thrusting back down over him, riding his c.o.c.k, her face bobbing before him. Slowly at first, all the way up and all the way back down, a delicious all-encompa.s.sing squeeze of her body as it embraced his c.o.c.k, the tickle of her pubic hair as she pressed herself all the way to the base of him. A low guttural moan building to a ragged rhythmic gasp as she accelerated slowly, leaning forward to put weight on her arms, her hips rising and falling, faster and then faster. He concentrated on matching her rhythm, rocking his hips along with hers, thrusting up into her.

He could smell her sweat, feel her hips grow damp under his hands, the muscles of her a.s.s clenching and relaxing as she rode him. He reached up, found the ring in her nipple, thumbed it, let it brush back and forth against his knuckles.

She found her groove and f.u.c.ked him in a rapid steady cadence, breath choppy, muscles taut, head low in the s.p.a.ce over his right shoulder, damp hair brus.h.i.+ng his face. The air was rich with f.u.c.k sweat, p.u.s.s.y juice, and the unmistakable funk of latex.

He could feel the fire gathering in his belly, somehow hot and cold at the same time, felt his legs clench in antic.i.p.ation, his b.a.l.l.s tighten, and then: he grunted as the white fire shot down his c.o.c.k and up his spine and out the top of his head, but she kept going, almost anxious now, a whimper, and then she tightened, went rigid, clamped him between her knees and dug her fingers deep into his arms as she groaned in his ear, shuddering to a halt. She held perfectly still for a long moment, frozen in place.

He felt himself softening inside her, and then her whole body seemed to turned liquid and she let out her breath and collapsed next to him.

”Thank you,” she murmured in his ear and a moment later he managed to reply, ”No, thank you. That was ...”

That was as far as his brain could take him, and he lay there, sweat cooling on his skin, limbs still entangled, and he squeezed her hand tightly, felt her squeezing back, heard her giggle as she relaxed.

Outside he heard the percussive shout of a propane flamethrower, saw the momentary orange glow light up the rainfly before the dragon or firetruck or apocalyptic war machine drove on. Somewhere a conductor or s.h.i.+p's mate was chanting the last call for the Lahontan Limited, bound for destiny, Pike's Peak and points beyond.

He felt two very different things at the same time: the glow of grat.i.tude, an electric sizzle that lingered in his skin; and the ache of knowledge that the party was over, the magic was gone, the color already fading away.

When he awoke, he was alone in the dark tent.

”How can I repay you, sir?”

Treasure had completed the telling of her encounter with Nate and knelt at the foot of the bed, head bowed.

Doctor Awesome smiled. ”I will entertain ... suggestions.”

”Well ... I've seen you talking to that cute blonde girl from the Camp of the Roger Jollies.”

”She is cute.”

”She is very cute. I was thinking I could offer to wash her hair and give her a sponge bath-she must be very dusty now. So I'd undress her slowly while you watched, and wipe her down with baby wipes, all over.”

She crawled atop him on the bed.

”And then I'd kiss her, and bite her lip, and work my way down her neck, and I'd suck on those beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s ...” She pulled one of his nipples into her mouth, released it with a pop. ”They're very ... pert. And then I'd lick her p.u.s.s.y, I know how much you like that.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip and flashed an eyebrow at him.

”I know how much you like that.” She grinned.

”And then,” she slid down his body, ”I'd suck your c.o.c.k until you were hard enough to f.u.c.k her.” She paused to demonstrate, eyes on his. ”Does that sound like something you'd like to do?”

”Yes ... but it also sounds like something you'd really like to do.

What I'd like to do is ...”

Much later, curled into him, she murmured, ”Now that you've let the tiger out of the cage, are you sure you can handle her?” ”I only let you out to let you know I control the gate.”

She turned to put a cool palm to his cheek, searched his eyes. The Game was over now.

”You're sure it was okay?”

”You did great.” He smiled. ”I'm glad you told me everything.”

She inhaled deeply, pulling herself against him fiercely, face pressed into his chest, then looked up at him with her big dark eyes glittering.

”I'm your Treasure.”

Nate saw Treasure the next day, wearing nothing but six-inch platform boots and a leather collar around her neck with a big ring dangling from the front of it. A leather leash was clipped to the ring, the other end around her wrist. She waved and walked away across the playa, long strides with her platform heels. He watched her shadow chase her, the natural sway of her a.s.s teasing him as she departed. Desire and futility burned inside him. He knew that he would not touch her again, and yet he clung to the bittersweet sting of memory.

He knew he didn't need to avoid Doctor Awesome, but he did it anyway, not trusting himself.

But something had changed. It was as if he had broken through some kind of membrane, and on the other side ... something that felt almost, but not quite, like home. One afternoon he found himself lost in conversation with a girl in a field of pillows, both of them discovering they were theater nerds, trading stories of narrowly averted disasters and epic shows. Here it was.

Then Nate looked up from his map one morning just as Doctor Awesome was carrying a plate of eggs and three cups back to his van and found himself locking eyes with the man.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d smiled and winked at him.

”Asking why someone would write about s.e.x is rather like asking why anyone would eat at a five-star French restaurant. The inherent pleasure of the activity in question seems rather obvious to me. As a p.o.r.nographer, I am in the same position as the restaurant critic. I get to do something I love while being paid for it. Why would I ever stop writing about s.e.x?”

- Patrick Califia Jeff Jacobson Bio Jeff Jacobson is a professional coach, novelist, and an occasional writer of erotica. Whenever he tries to write really hot p.o.r.n, it becomes humorous. He's okay with that. He lives in Shanghai and Los Angeles.Mini-Interview How did you start writing about s.e.x? I wrote my very first erotic anything in the late nineties, a poem about how my sperm smelled sweet. Then I went to a local artists' group where I read it, even though I was terrified. When I finished reading, the audience responded with laughter and applause. I was hooked.

When I write erotica, I have to fight a constant inner Catholic voice that says, ”You shouldn't write about that. It's dirty!” When I write non-fiction, I have to fight a constant inner grammarian voice that says, ”That was the worst use of a comma in the history of the alphabet!” The same war, but a different battle.