Liza and I slept well that first night, after playing on the sex gym. People were rolling in, all night, setting up camps all around us. We woke when the sun was beginning to rise over the eastern escarpment. In the distance the “bump, bump, bump” of techno-beat boomed across the desert.
Liza is so strikingly gorgeous. She lay next to me on our cot, her deep dreamy eyes watching me as my hands glided over her nude body. Her long auburn hair was beginning to clump and thicken in the dusty playa air. It framed her face like smoke. Her nipples stiffened beneath my fingers, in the cool morning, and her breath escaped through her parted lips in short bursts as I pinched them and rolled them between my fingers and thumbs. Her hips moved to the rhythm of her breathing. The distance between her bare feet lengthened until her painted toes dangled over opposite edges of the cot. As I raked my fingernails along the insides of her spread thighs, she played with her little button, languorously masturbating for me. I bent over to lick and suck and bite the soft roundness of her breasts. The tempo of her stroking increased until her legs went stiff and shook, and her stomach pumped the sounds of orgasm through her open mouth. As she settled back to earth and into the deep blankets, I kissed her lips and left her to go make coffee and breakfast. I checked in on her, briefly, as the water was heating on the camp stove, and smiled at her exquisitely naked body, sprawled and soundly sleeping. She was, surely, an angel.
Later, after breakfast, Liza dressed in crotchless silk panties and boots. On her head was a very cute black bowler, and she tied one of my silk ties around her neck. The tie nestled between her perfect breasts and teased her nipples as it swayed from side to side as she walked. In her hair, she wound beads. Clearly, she ruled as the sexiest camper on the desert floor. I wore a short wrap skirt, a cowboy hat and boots. Together, we walked to the Center Camp, to get mochas and check out the scene.
The scene at Center Camp was pure circus. Girls in boots and short skirts and bikini bottoms, with dreadlocks and goggles; guys in kilts with scarves around their necks; naked women painted silver; men in leather chaps; people dancing; people talking and hugging each other; people playing guitars; people sleeping on couches. Near the center of the space, a naked woman covered with playa dust was practicing incredible yoga moves. Next to her, a man in silk pajama bottoms was standing on his head. Liza and I bought a couple of mochas and found a wall to lean against, where we could watch all of the fabulous people, in all of their finery. I was difficult, of course, for me to keep my hands to myself and I found my fingers exploring Liza’s gorgeous body, while we sipped on our coffee. She moved to stand in front of me, and I crooked one arm around her, cupping a breast in one hand, drawing her delectable ass against the tent that was growing in my skirt. We stood there, warming each other, until we had drained our coffee. Time to take a walk.
Black Rock City is arranged in a large semi-circle around a central point. The point is “Burning Man,” a large sculpture that stands a couple of hundred feet above the playa. At the end of the event, he is burned to the ground, amidst a barrage of fireworks and gasoline explosions and beams of lasers. Liza and I decided to stroll out to the “Man.” Long dusty esplanades, flanked by columns, lead the believers to the center where the man stands like a flame, drawing moths. The sun was rising and heat was descending upon the desert floor. Liza and I held hands, as we shuffled through the dust, toward the center of our camping world. People rolled by us on junky bicycles, or in phantasmagorical art cars.
About halfway out to our destination, we spied another art installation that had been placed, seemingly, by aliens on the desert floor. It was a twenty-foot high flower. It’s steel petals curved up toward the sky, like a giant radio dish. Inside the curving petals, the wind was quiet and the heat was still and intense. We walked inside of the petals and fondled each other until we were both ready. Then, we fucked. I pounded into her, from behind, grabbing her hips and plunging my cock between the frilly fabric of her crotchless panties. We moved in unison, sweat streaming across our bodies. She cried out and, soon after, I shot deep into her, my chest heaving, my stomach tight. I pulled out and a thin, white, stream followed my cock out, spilling and dripping off of Liza’s pussy. We straightened up and started giggling at how spontaneous and wonderful the whole experience was. I bent down to lick the salt off of Liza’s nipples, then kissed her long and deeply. We held hands and walked out of the flower petals, to continue on with our explorations
