Communal Sex in Paradise Camp

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

Aerial perspective, Black Rock City 2009, looking toward the west. Photo by Eric.

This was all extremely interesting and I knew I was extremely tired.  A bit delirious, in fact.  As dayworld took over, the electric charge of night waned and a pleasant, sleepy feeling warmed over my consciousness.  The desert heats up fast. I looked around at my new friends and, I knew, my new story subjects, and politely excused myself.

“This is the most interesting space on the planet. I feel like I could go anywhere from here.”

Do you know those times when you open your mouth to speak and say whatever – what you didn’t plan to say?  That’s what happened.  I almost laughed, it was so ridiculous.  Nobody seemed to notice, though Lucille smiled.  I glanced up at the woman called Zoya, with her bright yellow shorts and river of blond hair flowing over her back and breasts.  As I did, the word Thresholder came back to me.

I looked at Siobhan, with whom I had spent the night roaming the playa in my dreams and sleeping on a public couch. “Are you walking back?”

“I’ll come back later. It was a lovely journey with you,” she said in her soft Irish accent.  Which melted me, as did the delicately mischievous view from her eyes.  I smiled sweetly and glanced toward Lucille and walked up to her and hugged her compact human frame.  Then Siobhan, embracing her and her scent, grateful infinitely for the presence of these two women in my life.  I bowed to the breakfast camp gathering and slipped out onto a street called DNA, turned toward the playa at 4:30 and a few moments later, slipped into Paradise camp.

Silence from four quarters, and a sense of peace to go with it.  I reached into the tent I shared with my traveling partner JJP, found the rental car key, located my sleeping bag and ground pad in the car, secured the car and walked among the tents and shelters toward the erodome.  As I did, I heard lovemaking in the distance. In particular, I heard a woman moan like she was being made love to.  I imagined the scene; she on top, riding him, her breasts dangling over his face; not close enough to reach with his mouth, but close enough to taste her scent, of desire.  When she moaned, she wanted her face seen doing so.

In that moment I recognized that she might be by herself.  Recognized and accepted; and beheld.  There was silence and then she let her voice go again.  Listening, I walked along the lakebed toward the white dome where I planned to sleep.

I walked in, briefly parting the black curtain that shielded the dome from the outer dimension.  The dome was empty. I chose one of the beds, spread out my sleeping stuff and fell asleep so fast I didn’t remember laying my head down.  I awoke in the midst of a feverish dream, of slipping my hand into a glove the approximate texture of a nylon stocking. Someone, a woman who seemed to be a morph between Siobhan and Lucille, said, “This is what it feels like to stretch your energy into your reality.  The glove is what you see; the surface of the world. The hand inside is who you are.”

As this statement ended, I was awakened by a worldly sound, that of a man moaning.  I passed through the neither asleep nor awake layer of paradox, deeply turned on by the sound and at the same time uncomfortable at that fact. I knew that if I awakened I would need to confront something.  I made the choice to do so consciously, and lay in the midst of the dream of the nylon glove with my eyes closed, and brought myself into the room.

Then I heard another male voice speak, and then groan.  Then a female voice.  I awakened into the presence of them all, and gradually opened my eyes.  In front of me on the adjoining bed were two men I did not recognize.  Both were naked.  One was sucking on the other.  Both imbibed of an intense pleasure, mingled with willing surrender.  I studied them, their physical shapes, their feelings, their moving emotions, their biology.  Their large cocks were fully erect and they were drawn toward one another by that energy.  The dome was hot and bright and I could tell the Sun was high in the sky.

On in another part of the dome, I had a clear view of a male/female couple; her legs were wrapped around his head, her arms were stretched out and she began moaning shamelessly.  I recognized these as Mike and Julia – the couple who had been fucking during my photo session with Lucille the day before.

As they did this, the men switched positions and continued their fellatio experience.  Then after a few moments they switched again, building tension with each turn.  Then Julia sat up and began sucking on Mike’s cock, which was so hard it was arched, as was his back, as was hers.  I glanced in the direction of one couple, then the other, then the other, treated to the exquisite total immersion in oral sex.  I was naked and sweating and verging on delirious in my sleeping bag, and squirmed out into the open air.  The atmosphere of the room was cool for a moment, and then it was hot again.

Mike and Julia changed positions: she lay on her back and pulled up her knees, speaking in fragments of Russian, the tone of her voice beautifully desperate.  He pounded her, strong and lovingly and finally fast and deep, deep, deep into her as she reflected this in her moans and Russian phrases.

The men were energized by this and one of them looked ready to let go into the mouth of the other.  Julia turned her neck to see, and I studied the face and mouth and neck of the one with the cock buried deep in his mouth.  I was on the verge of exploding with delirious yearning.  I felt my personality melt and my control evaporate like steam.  I knelt up and masturbated, letting go of the tension of the long, weird night and all its dreams.  I focused my perception on the male couple, then the male-female couple, then the male couple, and slowly let the experience toss me to a place beyond understanding.  Then I remembered the mirror was behind me, the dusty oval mirror where Lucille had made love to herself under similar circumstances a day earlier.

The dome flooded with the psychedelic music of sex.  Not group sex, but sex communally celebrated.

I looked next to me and saw Julia’s foot in the air, and the delicate line of her arch, and her moan so empathic to mine; then I heard the sound of a man swallowing the orgasm of another, his obviously gulping as his partner grunted.  With noplace else to go, I turned around and faced the mirror and was taken over by my thirst, and I glanced at my face – just as I let go of myself, and let go of my voice, and moaned out my release, gushing hot and strong into my dusty, sweaty palm.

(Posted at Book of Blue)

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