Penetration of the Hawk Eyes

Are you a glass house builder? You meet someone that you’re excited about and build a nice little glass house around them? One that prevents you from seeing their true selves. You prefer to keep that shiny glass exterior where everything about them is perfect, a lovely illusion. I’m so good at it, I could start up my own glass house real-estate company.

Everybody works hard in the desert, like really fucking hard. From sunrise till sundown, rain, sandstorm or flood – six days a week. Except for the Kitchen Crew; we work seven days a week, everyone’s gotta eat hey?

Our first Saturday has finally rolled around, and Zimbabawia and I are buzzing with anticipation for a BIG night, we’ve been told that Saturday parties are wild. I’m ready to get wild… and get laid. The anticipation has sent my dinner service peacock into overdrive, new crew members have arrived and I greet them with caffeinated enthusiasm. An outrageously sexy couple approaches my ladle, they are oozing confidence in this foreign land. I haven’t been to Burning Man, yet, but I am certain that these are old time Burners. Meeting the intense stare of the male, I am instantly attracted to his sexy hawk-ness, internally I give a single girl ‘sigh’.

Zimbabawia and I practically break pots doing the dreaded dishes. Finally finished, we slip on our bathers and head on over to the Official Desert Beach Party. Immediately I understand the party hype… The Fluffers* have turned the Pirate Ship Art Instillation into a desert beach; the Rebar is Hawaiian themed, everyone is dressed in beach wear, and an appropriate sandstorm has begun to brew.

After a hefty mushroom appetizer, myself and my new gal pal, Corneas, sidle into a red rubber ring. The ring quickly becomes an extension of our bodies; we see no option but to remain inside it ‘swimming’ on the dance-floor for hours. We literally cannot stop, how can we end this hilarious skit when everyone is so entertained by us? Swimming to the sandstorm beats and bopping butts with Corneas, my cup is continually filled and I’m as high as a kite. It seems nothing could go wrong… famous last words. The next thing I know, I’m sprawled out, alone and rubber ring-less, in the dust behind the pirate ship.

Zimbabwia happens to be dashing for a desert wee when she spots my shambled self, seeing the state of me determines, You need to vomit.
I’ve tried, I just can’t make myself do it.
Not skipping a beat she swiftly shoves her fingers down my throat and I begin projectile vomiting all over her hands. Friendship.

A disco chunder always does wonders. After ‘friendship level 100 activities’, I head back to the party, full of hope to carry on with the night. Standing on the side of the throbbing dance-floor I realise how in vain these hopes are. I make eye contact with the male half of the hot assed couple, Hawk Eyes, and he comes over Are you okay? I Admit that I’ve slightly overdone the Rebar, again, and can’t quite manage the dance-floor. He accompanies me to sit down and then doesn’t leave… We start chatting about his previous Burning Man experiences (knew it), and I’m feeling confused about his relationship status, so casually ask, Do you always go to Burns with your girlfriend?
Not my girlfriend, just a friend.

The energy between us immediately changes, we become silent, looking into each other’s eyes, awkwardly affirming with our gaze that we are both single and clearly ready to mingle. He’s leaning in and I quickly inform him I spewed a little while ago, just so you know. Apparently unphased by mushroom milkshakes, he keeps leaning in. The kiss is indulgent, I hold his face and feeling sexy post-vom in my bathers, I straddle him. Zimbabawia appears again, looking mildly surprised; she’d only just had time to wash the vomit off her hands and I’d somehow managed to start sucking someone’s face. She checks to see that I am happy and consenting, then laughs and goes back to the party. After she leaves, Hawk Eyes also ensures he isn’t taking advantage of me. Definitely not, I even gave a disappointed sigh when I thought you were taken.

Consent confirmed (VERY important, people), we abandon the beach and navigate towards the DPW quarters, and his tent. Apologising for his mattress-less, sleeping-bag-less floor, we decide to make a mattress out of our clothes. Upon the jackets and bathers we start doing that hot thing where you kiss and grind your bodies together, edging the penis closer and closer to the vagina but not letting it enter. I can feel the moisture between my legs beginning to flow in anticipation.

Finally, in a moment of pure will power, request a condom, Okay he replies, But I should tell you, there’s a girl that might be coming here soon, she’s not my girlfriend, but she is a ‘someone’, I just wanted to tell you in case you see me with her and wonder who she is.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Look, the reality of what he’s saying is way more reasonable than Nimbin’s; I have a girlfriend with a kid. However, what the fuck is with the timing? I mean, I had asked if he had a girlfriend just hours before. Then would probably have been a more appropriate time to tell me about this girl, instead of when his cock is in the loading bay, ready to enter my harbour.

In my state of intoxication and desire, I choose to ignore my intuitive anger and quickly forgive myself for not being strong enough to deny the throbbing penis, inches from entering me.

I go ahead and do the deed. His Hawk eyes penetrate my soul while his cock penetrates my body upon the hard, mattress-less floor. It feels fantastic.

Waking up I am as hungover as a 14 year old’s first night on goon (my first night drinking goon consisted of me vomiting in my hands and feeding the vomit to my best friends rabbits.) I leave Hawk Eyes sleeping in what now looks like a tent-brothel, and trudge my sorry ass to the kitchen. At lunch service I am pleasantly surprised, Hawk Eyes greets me with a kiss, sympathises that I have been working, and pulls his chair over to sit with me while I serve. Already feeling confused by this gentlemanly behaviour he further bewilders me by asking if he can stay and help clean the dishes!

Okay, you might be thinking WTF girl, this is how you deserve to be treated! Yeah, I know I do deserve to be treated as a queen, however I am just not used to this behaviour, and therefore am suspicious of it. The next two days are the same; he continues to flirt and sit with me during every meal. I am feeling fucking confused; is there going to be another girl arriving here that he’s involved with? And if so, that is pretty fucking strange as he’s made it quite obvious to the whole crew that he’s interested in me. Plus, the worst part is I’m developing a crush…
I don’t like it.

I decide to find out what’s really going on.

After dinner I ask Hawk Eyes if he wants to hangout, he agrees and we head to the living room (a giant stretchie, furnished with beat up desert couches and dusty carpets, luxury). We’ve just finished a flirty game of foosball when he leaves saying he’ll Be right back. But he doesn’t come right back. I’m about go to his tent to find him, when a voice from within growls No. Fucking. Way Girlfriend. You are not chasing after some dude that told you he has another girl on the way!

The voice trembles inside me so loudly that is shatters Hawk Eyes’ glass house into a million pieces. Who the fuck is this prick to tell me about another girl seconds before his dick enters me? Bullshit he told me out of respect. He told me to unburden his own guilt. As for spending each night with me at dinner, he was just keeping his image of the ‘good guy’.

I do not go after him.

Besides, Lanky has just entered the stretchie.

*Fluffers – Two crew members get the role of ‘Fluffers’; their job entails party planning, and looking after all the desert labourers

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