Fake Memories of Burning Man
*
These stories are based on what I believe would be the reactions of real ex-girlfriends, but the situations are fictional. Names and details have been changed to protect their privacy.
Burning Man is an enormous week-long art festival taking place in the Nevada desert. It combines large art pieces, music, performance art, as well as a wild party scene. The festival is a two-mile wide horse-shoe of tents and camps, with the central empty space (the "Playa") forming the main display area for the art pieces. The open end of the horse-shoe leads to the Deep Playa, a wide open expanse where more art pieces are scattered. The space is wide enough that bicycles are required to travel from place to place.
There is no commerce allowed. Everything is freely given and shared. People set up bars, chill tents, performance spaces or any form of hospitality they can dream of. Emphasis is placed on participation, silliness is the norm, and nudity is accepted (but not required). Some of the larger dance camps are enormous and run by professionals, so the night time parties are some of the best in the world.
In reality there is a police presence which prevents wilder antics, but in my version the risks of arrest are nil.
*****
Alyssa - part 1
Alyssa and I had parked and claimed our small patch of desert, quickly setting up our tent and shade structure. I had stretched a large tarp over the car, the tent and the small kitchen area we had set up. Alyssa was supposed to set up the camping chairs and the kitchen, but she kept being distracted by the scenery. I couldn't blame her.
For a bunch of old drugged-out hippies, the people who set up the festival had down a great job. Broad avenues curved along the entire length of the campground, while streets cut across at regular intervals, like the markings of a giant clock. Campers were kept within their allocated spaces, which made the whole place feel more like a city than a campground.
People were setting up near us, but the real action was in the street. Dozens of people were walking or bicycling past us, each dressed in some outlandish fashion. There were no store-bought costumes; these were hand-made outfits, a mix of thrift store fashion and carefully crafted pieces. Men and women were parading around in steampunk chic, wild fantastical beasts or foam robots, with a heavy dose of Mad Max thrown in. It was hot, so most people wore little. Those who had not put much effort in their clothing wore sarongs or colorful shorts. The men were shirt-free, the women in frilly bras or cut-off T shirts. But everywhere was color.
Alyssa was smiling broadly as she watched people go by. Her jaw dropped when suddenly an art car drove by, some converted school bus now covered in blue gauze and fake wood to look like a sailing ship, the roof turned into a deck where dozens of people danced to the tunes of blaring speakers. Alyssa turned to me, excitedly pointing at the passing land ship.
"Did you see that?" she exclaimed.
I just smiled and nodded, pleased at her reaction.
Alyssa was a wire thin blond, a toned professional dancer with the typical body of a ballerina, all narrow hips and small bust as required by the dance troupe she worked with. She was pretty, her features a little too strong to be considered beautiful. But she was smart and funny and hungry to try new things, which made her a wonderful companion. Right now she was wearing kaki shorts and a t-shirt, her hiking boots still on her feet. She looked like a tourist and that had to change.
My chores done, I pulled out our plastic bin of clothing. I was ready for this, this being my third Burn. I stripped naked, wrapped a sarong around my waist, sprayed on some sunscreen and slapped a wide hat on my head. I was ready. It felt wonderful to be nearly naked in this heat. Wonderful and freeing.
"Let's go explore!" I said.
I pulled out our bikes from the roof rack, loaded-up my knapsack with water and snacks, strapped on my goggles and was ready to go. Alyssa grabbed a hat and off we went.
We pedaled around for a few hours, taking on the sights. Alyssa was mostly open-mouthed with wonder as we cruised by the massive art pieces scattered around the Playa. Some were kinetic and moved, others burst into flames. Some you could climb, others were interactive, with lights or sounds erupting as you went by.
Alyssa went from grinning broadly to mock horror as we cruised by a completely naked couple. Everywhere we passed brilliantly dressed people. Most were wearing crazy mish-mash of pieces which created a wild, fun and colorful effect. Personally I couldn't wait to wear a pair of outlandish pants I had found at a thrift store; they were made of bright blue silk and patterned with dragons and Chinese motifs. I'm pretty sure they were meant to be somebody's grandma's pajamas. I loved them.
"I feel so boring!" she yelled out to me as we crossed the Playa on our bikes.
"I told you to come shopping with me!" I yelled back.
We spent the day bicycling around, getting a feel for the scene. I was just relaxing and enjoying the sights. Alyssa was biking around, mind blown every five minutes or so.
"Having fun?" I asked her.
"This is wild!" she replied.
"Wait until night falls" I yelled out.
Dusk found us back at our camp, famished and dusty. I busied myself with cooking us a quick supper while Alyssa foraged through her bin of clothes.
"What should I wear?" she yelled out from the back of the car, were we kept our supplies.
"Layers and whatever you find fun." I answered, stirring the rice and beans.
Alyssa had never been an extravagant dresser. She had a pair of black leather pants that looked great on her, but that was the extreme edge of her wardrobe. She was a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Summer saw her break out dresses, but everything she own was geared towards practicality and comfort. Nothing that matched the wilds of the Playa.
Luckily for her, I had made a few strategic purchases.
i pulled out a six-pack of cotton boy-shorts, comfy and colorful. I had a full complement of sarongs and scarves, but for her I pulled out a tutu. It was a costume one, not a real ballerina tutu, just a ring of pink tulle held by an elastic band. I threw a few tank tops and halter-tops at her, followed by a couple of thigh-high tights with silly prints on them. My favorite was the kitten on a field of stars, shooting lasers out of his eyes. It made me laugh.
"Where did all this come from?" she exclaimed.
"Now you can't say I never did anything nice for you." I said with a grin before returning to my cooking.
She disappeared inside our tent. A few minutes later, she came out and I had to smile.
"Ta-da!" she said, posing.
She had put on the tutu over a pair of blue boy shorts, with a pair of rainbow striped thigh highs. Tall lace-up moccasins came up other calf. She had a short, tight pale blue T-shirt on top, and she was obviously bra-less. Her thick nipples were poking through the thin fabric. She was beaming, a silly grin on her face.
"How do I look?" she asked.
"Fantastic! Absolutely, deliciously, ridiculous. And I mean that as a compliment." I replied.
I went to her, pulling her close to me to kiss her. I ran my hands over the back of her legs, where a few inches of naked flesh were exposed between the thigh-highs and the shorts. As our lips and tongues met, my fingers drew circles across her thighs.
I cupped her ass with both hands, pulling her even closer to me. I could feel myself getting hard. Only the thin sarong I was wearing separated me from her. She looked into my eyes, grinding her hips into my hardening cock. I knew that look.
I pushed her against the open trunk of the little SUV we had came in. Behind her was the pile of clothing and supplies we had stuffed in the car. The flaps of the tarp I had stretched out hid us from the street, mostly. Behind us was a sea of tents and RVs. We were hardly in a private place.
I broke our kiss to look at her, a wicked smile on my face. I slid my hand over her small breast, my thumb circling her hard nipple. Her breath quickened. I leaned in to give her a soft,slow kiss. her eyes closed. I pulled away, which made her groan in disappointment.
I kneeled at her feet. She murmured some faint objections.
I lifted the tutu, revealing the long strong thighs I knew were beneath it. I stared at the blue boy-shorts that covered her mound. The thing is, they weren't shorts. They were underwear. A thin cotton layer was all that separated me from the treasure underneath. The outline of her pubic hair could be seen through the fabric, a short puffy mohawk above her sex.
I leaned in and blew softly through the soft cotton, my mouth wide open to flood her pussy with moist heat. She moaned.
"Stop" she moaned softly, pulling at my hair.
"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, while diving deeper between her thighs.
I nuzzled her clit with my nose, pushing her lips apart with a soft kiss. She moaned again, her legs floating apart. I hooked a finger under the fabric and pulled the crotch of her shorts aside.Her pussy was revealed to me in all its glory. For such a thin girl, she had wonderfully puffy outer lips, giving her pussy a real presence. It wasn't just a slit at the bottom of her belly; it was a mouth that called out to you. The pinker inner lips poked out like a cat's tongue.
A rectangle of dark blonde curls crowned the whole thing, a thick and soft matt of hair that pointed at her crotch. I leaned in, opened my mouth, and took a long lick along the entire length. I let my tongue rest on her hardening clit. She moaned appropriately.
I suckled at her clit, gently sucking it into my mouth. I took another long lick of her pussy, tasting her wetness.
I pulled away and stood up. She was leaning halfway back into the pile of clothes and canned goods that filled the back of the car. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed. She bit her lip.
