Tag Archives: sex

Burning Man 2019 – Friday August 30th – Pushing boundaries

Want to help support the cause? Donate here!

AUG 30 – FRIDAY
Leaving Spanky’s somewhere around 4:30 AM to make a gallant attempt to catch sunrise in Deep Playa, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t stop at Hardley’s Saloon for a shot of whiskey when passing it on the Esplanade at 5 AM. I had given up on the idea of Mia and I doing it together to celebrate the beginning of our friendship but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do it on my own. Instead, I met a handsome (and borderline too cocky) man from Australia who I connected with on a chair swing outside the saloon until it was too late to make it anywhere else before sunrise. His departure being just before yellows and oranges started to rise in the sky through the bars of the sleeping Thunderdome in front of me, I fought to keep my eyes open as the sun made it’s way over the horizon. Having only been asleep for a few minutes, a cutie-patootie of a Chinese American gal jumped off the back of someone’s bike (hers had been stolen) and plopped down, chatting before her buns even hit the seat. Seeming oblivious to my head bobbing as I fought to stay awake, I was bewildered by the tidal wave of intensity coming at me. If she had been ready to snuggle to sleep under that morning sun, I could have stayed there forever. Instead, I had to excuse myself after a few minutes of her happy chittering to petal my way back to camp with leaden feet to do my best at catching a few hours of ZZZ.

Miserably exhausted as I always was by that time of the week, I’ll be damned if I still couldn’t sleep even when in my own “bed”. Finally giving up on the attempt and getting up two or three hours later once the heat had become too much to bare, I headed over to one of the neighborhood’s lightly air conditioned chill champs inside a Middle Eastern style tent with a prayer that it would help. From there I made an effort to find Spicy given that he had already tried to find me so many times. Feeling insecure about showing up when I worried he might not want me to, I knew feeling that way was ridiculous but the torture of feeling vulnerable wasn’t about to let me get too confident. Even so, I made it all the way over to the other side of the playa per his direction and even made sure to take advantage and stop for a drink with random burners when something caught my eye along the way. For example, when I stumbled upon a Mardi Gras show at a New Orleans themed camp. A great example of one of the best and most magical parts of Immediacy at the burn. I don’t know if I ever would have had it in me to do so if it hadn’t been ingrained over those last five years or burning.

Finally making it to his RV, I kicked back in the oppressive heat on a mound of teddy bears and pillows he had set up under a tarp patio connected between him and his neighbor until he finally got up. Planning to head out to pick up the vest he had left at the glitter camp, we first hung with that attached neighbor who just so happened to be trans and also just so happened to be…we’ll just say also attached. It pushed my boundaries, yes, but mostly because she didn’t seem interested in befriending me and I don’t like feeling like second string. Our plan was short-lived from there as his bike had broke the night before and it became apparent that it wasn’t going to be a quick fix. It also became quickly apparent that plan B to hang in his RV wasn’t going to be a success either as he was too tired to perform and I broke the bed. It was time to call it. Leaving him to finally get what may have been his first major sleep for what could have been the entire burn, it would be the last time I was to see him.

The next few hours were pretty lax. At the beginning of the burn, it was always exciting to mark the “when and where” events in a book we were given when first coming in through Gate knowing full-well that we’d be lucky to make it to any one of them thanks to living on playa time. In a last minute “oh yeah” on that particular day, I remembered a burlesque show that I had marked and actually made it for the first time ever. It was an excitingly hopeful first step in attending other events and workshops in my future. That was if I was ever able to figure out how to get some sleep.
After the show, I thought it would be nice to try to go find Spicy’s vest (never even found the camp) and fun to get us souvenir cups from Sharkey’s. Walking up to one of the camp’s two wooden bars with a brief stop to watch people do some axe-throwing, a sweet and somewhat proper British man of average looks and a friendly demeanor started talking me up. Having a tenancy to step in as a buzzed therapist when drinking combined with a background in matchmaking, I quickly became his Dr. Ruth. Pouring his heart out, he told me about how he had limited sexual experience, specifically in ways of his less traditional desires, and how those needs combined with the shame he felt about them had always affected his confidence and self-esteem. His thinking it would ruin the relationship with his fiance, he couldn’t take it anymore and had told her anyway before leaving for the burn. Half expecting her to break up with him, she instead told him to go experiment and have fun. Being honest with her had not only set him free from the cage he had been in for so long but also strengthened their relationship. It was touching.
Speaking of touching, he then asked if I would be up for going to the Orgydome. I can’t say it was a surprise. It was obvious that he was looking for a sexual mentor and was already seeing me in that light. Honestly, for as free-spirited, sexually liberated and open-minded as I like to tell myself I was, I didn’t know how I felt about it. When it came to sexuality, it only felt right to me to do the horizontal hokey pokey when having an intimate connection both emotionally and mentally followed by physical attraction. Whether knowing each other an hour or a year didn’t matter, just that level of connection. That meant that my first instinct was to say no. Then I realized that I had a chance to do something I believed important enough for it to speak to me. Besides stroking my ego (among other things) and having a little fun, I got to help someone. Not only that but I got to do it in an area where I also had a history of great pain and shame until having found healing at the burn. So I decided to go outside of my norm and what the hell, say “sure, let’s go”. His wide-eyed expression of nervous excitement was another of the moments that resonated with me most that burn. It was…cute.
Getting in line at the Orgydome, I was a little impatient to have to go through the routine of all the safety, consent, no phones, etc. drills again one day later but also excited to watch him experience what that looked like. Then getting up to the front, one of the gals working the door excitedly asked, “hey, you’re the chick who was covered in the glitter the other day, right?” It was obvious from her tone that our libido and other fun had been talked about in the camp along, I’m sure, with annoyance at the glitter. It was also entertainingly awkward to respond that, yes, it had been me and a little embarrassing that he heard it. Continuing on, we went to the “open to more” room as opposed to couples only and started to make out. It was odd as I didn’t feel much of a sexual connection but I didn’t feel like that was why I was there anyway. Excusing myself to run back for nipple-glue remover once taking off my fuzzy pasties, I came back to him and an attractive Asian woman with a very cool mowhawk that had patterns buzzed into the sides waiting for me. She had apparently approached him wanting to join. Things definitely got more interesting from there.
While petite isn’t my “type”, I also believe that objectifying people by putting them into narrow-minded boxes is BS. I loved her vibe, so I went for it. Partly because I knew it would feed into his fantasy. Like most of my theesomes from the past, it became more about her focusing on me because I made her feel safe while he excitedly jumped in wherever he could and how I instructed. What was different from past experiences was that I was leading as a coach in the whole thing. Communication and finding a way to make everyone feel involved, seen and comfortable was what it was about for me. His mind was blown, as was my eardrum from her screaming in it as she climaxed. I was content that I had given them something special and in so, they had given me a gift that meant the world in return. It all ended abruptly after she came, though, as I realized that I was about to be late for a bartending shift at a Celtic sing-song back at The Swan.
Giving him a long hug and getting a happy rush from seeing his enlightened and mind-blown appreciative smile as he thanked me, I took off and was bartending 20 minutes later. It wasn’t to be the end of my sexcapades for the night, though. The year before, I had been left after unsuccessfully chasing an art car to get to the Great Canadian Beaver Eating Contest at Spanky’s sister camp, Black Rock Bordello. A fellow camper had talked me into going to another neighboring camp with promises that we’d be back in time, which of course we weren’t. Yes, I am absolutely still pouting and no way was I going to let it happen again.

I tried to talk my crew from the Swan (and other compadres from PolyParadise) into coming with but they were unfortunately already amped about going to an event where one of our guys was going to get naked and completely lubed up to wrestle another guy while swinging from chandeliers. That meant that the only one who ended up joining me was Trevor. Great. Don’t get me wrong, I was a fan of the big guy but his crush was suffocating and I resented that I all of the sudden felt like I was on a date that I didn’t agree to. Making it to the tent for the show, we took a front row seat and I was quickly jumping back and forth between him and other Spankers. Partly in an attempt to show Trevor that I saw him as nothing but a pal, I told Levi that if he wanted us to compete, to sign us up. It was an unintentionally mean and I still feel bad about it but feeling suffocated makes me panic. Haven’t mastered that one net.
Next thing I knew after that, Levi and I are being called up and I’m getting the most intense oral that I’ve ever received. So much so that I was gripping onto the mat so that my sweaty body wasn’t pushed off the stage by the pressure he was using. Almost laughing as I ripped off the rainbow wig I was wearing and putting on my sunglasses to hide from the intensity, I was in and overwhelming state of pleasurable shock that absolutely entertained me. That didn’t mean I wasn’t making an attempt to look up at the other competitors, though. I mentally pouted at those unsuccessful attempts but got over it when realizing that we must have been the best show given that the judges extended our time twice and I could hear the crowd cheering. As someone who thrives on bringing pleasure to others, damn straight I’m an exhibitionist and damn right was I loving it. Trevor was gone by the time the whole thing was over. Feeling relieved though bad, I was also later a bit angry when he pouted about how he was OK but would have rather been a participant in a way that made me think he was assuming it would be us.
What a day but the sexapades even STILL weren’t over. There was a hottie from camp who had been watching and had been turned on by the show. When he politely approached me about hooking up, I was a little weirded out that he would be interested in a woman who had just been receiving oral from another man, and in front of a crowd no less. We all have our turn-ons and I knew that, so I found myself once again asking why it made me feel awkward. The best answer I had was that I hadn’t been in that particular situation before. Being nice as I skirted off with a smiling decline to the invitation, I jumped around with my friends until he appeared again an hour later. Finding him sweet, laid back and quite attractive, I decided what the hell for the second time that day and went for it. Going to his nice conversion van, he lit candles and was more the most tender of my recent lovers. Kind of boring, actually, in that he liked me laying down doing nothing while he hit it from behind, but he did give me three orgasms from oral (extra impressive given alcohol and that crazy head from Levi) so it was a big win over all.
During our shenanigans, there had been a knock that I had a feeling was his partner with some kind of message. Seeming to have turned into a theme, it was the third new experience pushing my boundaries for the day. When I sought him out to say hi a couple more times over the rest of the burn, one of the times he had actually been with the partner who I assumed was the one to be the knocker. Not making an attempt to be part of the convo with him and I, it was once again what most bothered me. My connection with him didn’t go any farther. That was until he added me on Facebook and I found out that he lived in my Northern California neighborhood. Not that he’d even respond to future PMs. So weird.
Man…what a day for the books. Reminds me of a certain meme about doing all the wild and crazy things we can now so we have something to talk about at holidays when we’re old. Anyone who knows me well knows how much I love shock value. That’s one to look forward to indeed.

Sexual Sabbatical

In an age of instant gratification, you probably have no interest in reading through an entire blog post before getting to the the juicy stuff about the Sexual Sabbatical. In honor of that, I’ll give you a heads up that you may want to continue by reading the last couple paragraphs before starting up here.

I also want to assure you loyal FRFers that we’ll continue with my time in London in the next post. For now, and thanks to an inspirational reminder from one of my own personal Wonder Women, I feel it important to look at the more serious and soulful side of what fueled my last post, A Gas of a Good Time.

Like so many, I was raised with some pretty rough guilt and shame about my body and sexuality through the beliefs of the Catholic church, being plus size since puberty and from sexual assault. All things that are so devastatingly common that, even if you are one of the lucky ones who haven’t experienced it personally, you are likely surrounded by people who have.

Before fully backtracking into the last post, let’s keep it present when pointing out that the most primal reason why a sexual sabbatical was thanks to maternal genetics inclined to a high sex drive (I get it from my mama). Many aspects sound great in such a sexualized society but the reality is that it causes physical discomfort, creates issues in relationships, challenges with self-esteem and other such problems. Turning to the deflection tactic of humor, I you may have noticed me tease on occasion with the saying “crazy in the head, crazy in bed”.

Continuing in ways that affect both posts as well as who I am in general, another area that has been challenging since close to the beginning is religion. Confusing without direction to help make sense of it all, I finally found some help when reading Angels & Demons by Dan Brown somewhere in my twenties. I will always be thankful for that book first opening my mind to the idea that I need to research and think for myself about how organized religion is often used as a tool of control, hypocrisy, sexism, money and power. That isn’t to say that I don’t believe in a higher power, or that there aren’t amazing people and churches, but over all my experience was traumatizing and killed most of my belief in organized religion. I don’t feel comfortable going anywhere near it.

In my late twenties, the final crucial factor that helped me break through feelings of shame in these two areas was when I trained my body into a more traditional physical form of what is considered “hot”. Dealing with a dangerous PTSD marine brother, health problems and the beginning of the crash of my first career in subprime mortgage (mixed feelings there), I had coped with it all through extreme focus on fitness and nutrition. Centering aim on my Amazon warrior side, something that came naturally to me, had helped to empower through strength and control. Something that consisted of three to four days a week of over two hours in the gym followed by surfing. Also eating clean and going as far as to limit socializing if it caused damage to that training.

Looks were farther down the line in terms of importance as to why I was doing it. If anything I was aiming on becoming less exposed to the horrible treatment of weight prejudice. I also just wanted it to be easier to keep up with my athletic friends.

What especially changed my reality with body image and weight prejudice was experiencing how I was just treated like shit in a different way once having lost the weight and muscling up. A noticeable number of women were nastier to me (I’m a girl’s girl, so this especially sucked) and many men and women cared a lot less about anything I was beyond looks. Not by everyone of course, but by enough to remind me that all good things have their own set of flaws. Since then I’ve become pretty good at accepting, loving and being forgiving with myself. As long as I’m doing the best I can and never give up, I’m good.

“If the goal you’ve set for yourself has a 100 percent chance of success, then frankly you aren’t aiming high enough.” – Benny Lewis

The moment that brought it all together along with what inspired me to come out as an actual advocate was when it became clear that I was actually helping people. To see beauty, healing, strength and love in the eyes of another and knowing I was a part of that…wow…how could I ever turn back? Being that person to others has given me more confidence than anything else could touch.

With my last post, while hilarious, I wasn’t completely comfortable putting it out. Sometimes that’s when it matters most.

All of these details give reason to so much of what I do, who I am and what you read. Included is the sexual sabbatical mentioned below that I am just now coming out of.

Why I did the sabbatical was pretty simple. My sexuality was adding too much complication to an already difficult transition into this new and untraditional lifestyle of writing and traveling as a digital nomad. It also set me up to hurt one lover after the other. While always having had been clear about my leaving within a few months to continue life as a bohemian nomad, and having always been reassured that it was OK, it never was. That was the bottom line. Hurting people is the opposite of who I fight to be and I just couldn’t handle the added complications or emotions of it all.

That sexual cleanse was great for mind, body and soul. Especially as someone whose identity is so strongly tied into it. While a little hesitant to jump back in, it’s time to. My last post celebrated how I just started the transition back in with a wonderful man in an experience that will always fill my heart.

There you go. Now that we’re caught up on the emotional and spiritual journey, back to the literal.