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.
*****
Darcie - part 1
Darcie had taken to Burning Man like a fish to water. By the end of breakfast on the first day she was already planning next year's trip. As soon as our little camp was set up, she had her hat on, she was ready to go exploring. We hopped on our bikes and off we went.
Darcie was a tall brunette, with sweet curves in the right place, cute b-cup boobs, and a wild streak about a mile wide. She was pretty and funny, and always a pleasure to have around. She had thrown on a blue bikini on that first day, wrapped a sarong around her waist, strapped on the obligatory goggles (in case of dust storms), plopped a hat on her head, and looked ready for fun. I had on my obligatory sarong (with nothing underneath), as well as a loosely knit t-shirt, which was actually part of a Swedish submariner's official work uniform. A great Army surplus store find. Hatted and be-goggled, I led the way. Unlike her, I actually knew where we were going.
I took her on a tour of the Playa with all the large art pieces, and the Esplanade, which was the edge of the horse-shoe of camps that faced inwards towards the Playa. Camps on the Esplanade had to have some kind of interactive element to them, whether it was a DJ set up and a dance area or a bar and lounge. Or a roller disco. Because there's a roller disco at Burning Man, and you can borrow roller skates.
Darcie used to be a figure skater in her youth, until boys distracted her and she dropped out of the rigorous training regimen that national competitions would require. She threw herself at the roller disco, skating and twirling around the plywood deck. From time to time she would just laugh when she realized where she was, and what she was doing. I was just standing by the side of the deck, watching her. I had skinned enough knees to know that I was not to be trusted on roller skates. I happily cheered her on, proud of her skills. A lot of other people watched her, this pretty girl weaving through the stumbling crowd with graceful ease. She cut quite a figure out there, her long legs criss-crossing as she skated around, her long brown hair trailing behind her.
She skidded to a stop in front of me, panting, a big smile on her face.
"This is awesome!" she said giggling.
"You can come back here every day if you want." I told her.
She plopped down next to me and started pulling off her skates.
"Oh, I will. This is so fucking insane and cool. They're playing disco!" She almost screamed in delight.
"It's that older black guy over there who brings the whole set up and all the skates" I said, pointing at the aging man gracefully gliding on his skates around the dance floor.
"That man is gonna get a hug from me before the end of this. This is.. mind-blowing." she said looking both happy and confused.
"We've barely started. Let's go!" I exclaimed.
We moved on, but she had a huge grin on her face the rest of the day. We hit several of the fun camps on the Esplanade, playing on the adult-sized jungle gym that had been set-up, or simply lounging and drinking the margaritas that one of the camps was passing around. By the time the sun set, we had hit a groove. We had a quick dinner and headed back out to hit the dance camps. Several hours later we crawled into our tent and collapsed on our inflatable mattress.
The next few days quickly established a rhythm. Mornings were spent getting ice, cleaning up the camp and general relaxing in our little part of the campground. After a light lunch, we retreated to the tent for a nap and some sweaty sex. By early afternoon we were ready to really hit the Playa.
Darcie had brought several bikinis, figuring correctly that they would be her main attire during the day. That day she was wearing a little black bikini that tied around the sides. I had spent the better part of the morning tugging at those ties, watching it fall off half a hip, revealing a pale ass cheek. It had become a game I was enjoying tremendously, but she finally put a stop to it. We were in the final stages of our preparations for the afternoon fun when I pulled on those strings one time too many. She turned to face me, hands on hips, frowning in mock anger. Instead of saying anything, she shimmied her hips until her bikini bottoms feel to the ground.
"There," she said " happy now?"
She was standing there in her sarong and bikini top. Knowing she was naked underneath that sarong made my cock tingle.
"Not yet. Can I see?" I said, grinning, but keeping my eyes locked on hers.
She slowly lifted her sarong. The fringes of the sarong slowly lifted, passing her long smooth thighs. She kept moving up until, finally, her pussy was revealed. Darcie was one of those fairly hairless women, and never had to shave. A fan of black silky hair spread above her clit, her pubes long and thin. It left the lips of her pussy deliciously bare, a delicate pink peach barely split by her clit hood.
I growled. I moved towards her.
She took a step back, pushing her sarong down and covering her pussy.
"No! We are heading out!" She warned me.
She jumped on her bike and headed out. She stood on her bike pedals and waved her ass at me.
"Are you coming?" she yelled out, a smirk on her face.
"You won't let me!" I yelled back as I jumped on my bike.
She laughed and pedaled away.
We hit our usual drinking spots, snatching shots of tequila at a Tiki bar, some strange concoction at a small dance dome, even some shaved ice from an alaskan fisherman. By the time we hit the Esplanade we were both pleasantly buzzed.
I collapsed on a big bean bag chair at the jungle-gym camp. Darcie was not with me. I looked around and finally saw her. She had stopped at the jungle gym itself and had started climbing it. It wasn't much of a jungle gym, more like thick wooden poles tied together, forming a network of rope bridges and climbing nets. It was popular and a lot of fun as an adult to rediscover the simple pleasure of climbing all over shit.
Darcie was climbing the low net that led to the rope bridge. She had either forgotten that she was naked under her sarong, or simply didn't care. But it was impossible to climb this structure in a lady like way; it required you to use your hands for balance and to spread your feet from rope to rope. At this point, Darcie was no lady.
I approached the jungle gym and noticed that two or three other guys were approaching as well. Darcie was just a few feet off the ground at this point, pulling herself up along the net. But it was already obvious she was naked under her sarong. Her pale tan lines were stark against the tanned skin of her thighs. As she made her way up, her legs would scissor open, revealing a broad triangle of pale flesh, and the fan of black pubic hair at the center of it.
The other guys were moving towards the net, as if to climb as well. But their eyes were fixed on Darcie's long legs. So were mine. She finally made it up and stood on the rope bridge. She crossed it quickly and reached the next section, which was an overhead net you were meant to hang from and cross hand over hand.
I had followed her, pacing her progress from the ground. She waved at me happily when she saw me, then threw herself at the net, grabbing hold of the ropes. Her legs swung out and and apart. As she swung from rope to rope, her legs would swing from side to side, revealing her bare pussy first to one side of the jungle gym, then the other. From my vantage point I could see clearly as her sarong inched higher over her legs until the pale orbs of her ass were in view. She would swing and turn, reaching for another corner of the net, her legs swinging open and suddenly her pussy was exposed, the full line of her slit from ass to pubes, her soft lips opening with her legs, revealing the deeper pink if her inner labia.
Finally she jumped down and hugged me, a big smile on her face.
"That was fun!" she said.
"That was fun for everyone who was looking." I said.
She shrugged with fake innocence.
"I'm just wearing what you wanted me to wear." she said, before giving me an evil grin.
She grabbed me by the hand.
"Come on, I need a drink!" She exclaimed.
We drank the camp's margarita's and continued on. Our next stop was a Western shack, complete with swinging doors and horns over the door. The place was barely big enough for two dozen people, and they were all there. In one corner was a small bar, in the other was a tiny dance space where a DJ had a computer propped up on a folding table. There was also a stripper pole in the middl elf the dance floor. The space was filled with dusty dancers, all dressed in colorful and weird outfits.
Darcie and I took the offered shots of cinnamon flavored whiskey (which is awful) before dancing. She threw herself into the music, a big grin on her face. By then we were both very buzzed by all the booze we had ingested. I knew that if Darcie had one weakness, it was booze. There was a line that was crossed at one point in her drinking, where I had to question whether she was just having fun or if she was doing something she would regret the next morning. I had the feeling we were approaching that line. I was heavier than her, so if I was feeling the effect of the alcohol, she must have been far further gone than me.
She grabbed hold of the stripper pole and started gyrating around it, making exaggerated sexy motion, clearly taking it all as a fun joke. I was dancing around her, but not with her. She was having her own fun. She started leaning back into the stripper pole, then bending forward at the waist so that she spread her ass cheeks on either side of the pole. She rode the pole for a few beats, making exaggerated sexy faces. A few people whooped their approval. That was all she needed.
