"You should grow that moustache again Burt," Bush said to his friend, his voice full of friendly sarcasm, "They make a nice flavor saver when licking cooze."
"You would know Bush," Burt joined in with his friend's banter.
Burt smiled as he drove their pick up truck, his mind reminiscing to the origin of his nickname. On a fishing trip once, he skipped shaving for a whole week. When he got home, he decided to shave the beard and leave the moustache. Although he could not see it himself, all his friends said he looked like a poor man's version of Burt Reynolds. They gave him endless grief and from then on he was "Burt," even long after he had shaved it off.
His friend, named Bush, was short for Bush Eater. A moniker Bush had earned for his infatuation and addiction for licking and kissing a certain part of a woman's anatomy. Bush was very successful at attracting the opposite sex. The name had stuck, from his many escapades and now, even his elderly mother called him Bush. She thought, though, her son was called that by his friends, because of a drunken incident when he tumbled in to a hedge. A classic, improvised, bullshit explanation that only lifelong friends are capable of.
Now, both men were Bush and Burt to everyone who knew them.
They were an hour, North of Reno and about an hour and a half away from their destination. Bush had heard about Burning Man from the Old Hipster guy who tended Bar at their favorite watering hole.
Burning man was a festival held out on the Black Rock Desert in Northern Nevada in the first week of September. It is the third flattest place on earth.
30,000 plus people converge on the prehistoric sea bed at that time of year. A temporary city pops out of the desert overnight, with huge, elaborate works of art placed out on the desert floor, known as The Playa. The center piece is a sixty foot wooden man, which would be set ablaze on Saturday night at the peak of the festival. The party stretches over two and half miles across.
Clothes were optional and outrageous costumes were the norm.
The burning of the man was a symbolic gesture that works of art cannot be owned, only shared. But what got Bush's attention in particular, were all the tales of open nudity and all the hot "open minded" women who attended. That sounded like Bush's dream vacation and he badgered and pleaded with Burt to go with him until he finally agreed.
They had listened to the Hipster and were well prepared for the week.
The Playa was no joke with temperatures in the 100s during the day and 40s during the night. And then there was the alkaline dust! The Playa is an ancient sea bed and the ground is hard packed dust, like light brown talcum powder and it gets into everything. Every nook and every crevice. Nothing was sacred. So goggles were a must, as were bicycles. Cars were forbidden to move once in your campsite for safety reasons. Bikes and walking were the only way to get around.
Bush and Burt had cases of water, provisions and booze for a week. The Hipster had told them that Burning man was a gift/trade economy with no vending allowed. The only thing that was sold was ice and coffee and the proceeds from these sales, were donated to the local town for their High School Prom.
They rolled in slowly and stopped at the gate. A women dressed like a ballerina danced up to Burt's open window and sang, "Tickets please"
Burt smiled at her and handed the women their tickets. She danced over to the booth and returned with their stubs. "Are you Newbies?" she asked.
"Yes we are" Burt smiled
"Then you need to see the man over there," she pointed to a man dressed in a Superman's outfit. "He will explain everything," and with that, she danced off to the next new arrival.
After a humorous lecture on the rules of Burning man, and the instructions, "Take your trash home," "Respect the porta-potties," etc., the Greeter Guy cut the men loose to venture out and enjoy the experience with the traditional Burning Man saying, "Welcome Home."
They drove slowly, taking note of the community slowly coming to life in their make shift homes for the duration of the festival. They looked for a good spot to set up their own camp. The whole time, Bush, the lecher and true to form, kept up an excited monologue of eyeing up the women. "Oh my God, look at her!" pointing out all women of various shapes and sizes. He loved them all!
"Let's camp here," Burt slowed the pickup and braked to allow a shapely young thing who was topless with big sunglasses ride by on her bicycle. Both men watched her, in open admiration. They noted her beautiful firm breasts, bouncing free in her natural movements.
"Oh shit Burt. Park the fucking truck," Bush groaned
Burt spotted an open area and expertly backed in. He got out of the truck and stretched and noted the sky. "Hey Bush, it's getting dark, let's set up camp as quick as possible."
The men worked quickly, like a well-oiled team. They quickly set up their tents and sun shelter and reinforced it with parachute lines and rebar stakes to handle the strong winds of the flat plain. A roll of old carpet was set out to keep the dust down, and lawn chairs and an old card table, were staked into the Playa.
Their camp was completed in no time. Burt tossed Bush a cold beer "To Burning man" Burt offered a toast.
"Fuck Burning Man! To all this Burning Pussy. Flames in the Desert," Bush corrected him and stuck his tongue out in a lewd display that made Burt crack up with laughter. Eager to explore, they made a quick dinner and washed it down with cold beers.
"Well, Hi Fellas."
They both turned around to see who had spoken. A red headed woman with a big smile, and even bigger breasts, walked into their camp. "Could you help me?" she spoke again.
She was a stunning woman in her thirty's with an hour glass figure. She was big breasted and it was obvious to both men immediately that she was bra-less under her blue checked flannel shirt. She had it open at the neck, revealing her ample cleavage and unbuttoned to her waist which allowed for the tails to be tied in a knot under the centre of her peaked and hard-nippled, breasts.
She wore the shortest red shorts that barely covered her rounded, bottom cheeks and brown hiking boots with white terry cotton socks poking over the top. Her red hair was tied in braided pigtails with a perfect centre parting and little red bows at the tips. She was about 5ft 5" tall and had pale freckled skin, sea green sparkling eyes, and wore red lipstick. She had on a khaki green Australian bush hat that sat on the back of her head. She looked cute, very hot and certainly caught a man's attention.
"Sure," Bush got to his feet "What can we do for you?" He was trying to force his eyes away from her ample chest to her face and failing abysmally.
"We were wondering if we could take the spot next to you guys?" She pointed at the huge mobile home idling nearby with the engine running, "You're not saving it for friends?"
"No, no. We're alone, just arrived ourselves," Burt grinned.
"Welcome home," Bush added the traditional welcome of the Burning Man.
"Thanks fellas, you're sweet," she waved in whoever was behind the steering wheel.
"Oh man," Bush sighed, "I hope she is with a group of women," as they watched the big mobile home back in.
