burning man 2009

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Look at what you see

This continues a series of posts from events and explorations conducted at Burning Man 2009.

Photo by Eric Francis.

In Black Rock City, there is a delicate moment between when one day ends and the next begins. It’s as if night lasts for some minutes, shortly before the rising of the Sun. The many raves settle down to silence around this time and the overnight dancers make their way home in twos and threes. The sky is warming in the sensation of illuminated darkness. We were held gently in that limber space. The city was silent and isolated, though it was a worldly kind of aloneness: in an odd way secure; we were together.

I knew where we were: the Mystical Couch on the corner of 4:30 and Promenade. This was a couch randomly set underneath a sturdy plastic shelter, like a porch on a busy intersection. As I gradually awakened, physical form felt strange and precious. I was surprised that I hadn’t missed it, in that other realm: the sensation of being physically alive. My sandals, sturdy and soaked in dust, were still strapped to my feat. My bluejean shorts wrapped my hips, and I was snug in my cotton pastel colored blanket that I had brought home from Holland.

“Where did you go?” Siobhan asked.

“Everywhere,” I said. “I dreamed I was walking out along on the playa. At first I was with you. Then you were gone, and I was naked. I had no idea how I had lost you and it felt so real. Realer than real. Finally I made peace with losing you, and that’s when I realized my clothes were gone.” As I said the words, I felt them tumble out like tarot cards. I could almost see the symbols align meaningfully.

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After Orgasms and Intimacy, We Share Our Humanity

This is the third part in a series, inspired by life inside the 2009 Burning Man Poly Paradise.  The first part can be viewed here, the second part is here and the third is here.

Anything for art

In the Erodome. Photo by Eric Francis.

She now begged for her lover to ejaculate into her.  Or perhaps she encouraged him longingly.  I watched as he thrust his reality into her core, all breath and motion.

For me, witnessing male-female coitus is cosmic.  Erotic on a scale I never considered existed.  I began exploring first in my imagination.  Then, circumstances would manifest occasionally.  Unexpectedly, such as now.  His ass thrust between her thighs and the dome seemed to rock as he did so.

She moaned yes over and over a few times anticipating his release into her, and then he came, silently.  She seemed to reel back in the initial wave of his storm surge.  I was watching from behind and slightly beneath, and his shaft throbbed in that magnificent pumping as the semen entered her.  Everything about her received him, from her voice to her hands clasped around him, her hips tipped upward to collect a pool in the throat of her uterus.

Lucille’s awareness embraced this as well.  We watched together in that moment, astonished, beholding the primal scene.  He withdrew himself from her, leaving her semen filled vagina visible to us, and I gasped audibly.  My camera was still in my hands.  I said, may I please photograph you?

Sincerely and directly.

All I had to do was ask.  She reached down and spread her lips.

“Anything for art,” she said.

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