Sadie Says … CLIMAX.
It was day three of Burning Man – it was a typically hot, desert day, the sense of anticipation about what might happen next hung in the afternoon air as intently as playa dust clung to our bodies. Several of my campmates and I had spent a good chunk of the afternoon lounging around doing mostly nothing, or at least I had done mostly nothing. That was until Ben, my beloved Australian buddy, presented me with a gift.
I thought you needed this Sadie, he said to me with a smile, and with that he placed a small, rectangular piece of silver steel in my hand. I pulled this off an old fan that I found in my attic he told me. I looked at it, it had – etched into it – the word “Climax”.
Ben knows me very well.
I squealed and hugged him and remembered I’d seen a length of gold chain in the costume yurt the day before. (We have a very pretty camp, with amenities such as a shipping container that, when it’s not storing all of our stuff between burns, acts as a full functional kitchen. We have an oven, where we bake bread for the hungry masses each morning, we have a shower – which is pretty much a fucking necessity – a public lounge area where people who are passing by can rest their weary bodies, and a huge yurt full of costumes where we all get dressed to go out to play). In that yurt I found the gold chain under a stack of bright green eyelashes, grabbed it, and sat down with a pair of needle nosed pliers; a few minutes later I had a necklace.
The necklace gave me a power I didn’t have just a few minutes before. It propelled me to get my lazy ass off the cushions that I’d been lounging on all day and get out and see what was happening in our beautiful Black Rock city. So, with this newfound energy, I gathered my stuff and headed towards my bike, which was parked in front of the camp. But I never actually made it there. I got derailed from my mission, because standing in front of my bike was a man – a beautiful man with a very short mohawk and tattoos, the likes of which might rival that of Jenn Motherfucking Tran’s – and he looked like he might pass right the fuck out.
I am so hungry, he said to me desperately. Do you have anything to eat?
Yes, yes I do. I have lots to eat, I told him. He followed me back through the camp to the kitchen and I pulled out some things for him to munch on – chips and hummus, some slices of cheese, an orange. I peeled the orange and handed him a few slices; he devoured them. I found some granola bars and stuffed them into the satchel he had slung across his back, and as I did I took a moment to admire his bare back imbued with ink. I joined him in hummus. We chatted. He looked at my boobs. Or at least I thought it was my boobs. I think, now, in retrospect, that he saw my necklace.
Do you want to take a walk with me? He said. I can show you my camp, it’s really cool, it’s a yoga camp, we’ve got 150 members over there. Its a great set up.
Sure, why not?
We walked the several blocks to the camp, which was dotted with lots of small tents, large silver yurts and geodesic domes. He showed me the covered dance floor where they practiced yoga in the mornings and held workshops in the evenings. There was no one in sight. They were all out doing their thing – whatever that was. At Burning Man, just about anything can happen, and does. He pointed towards a huge dome in the center of their camp , That’s what we call “the sensual dome” he said. Wanna check it out?
Sure, why not?
The dome was pretty, swathed in flowy fabrics of bright pinks and purples and muted reds. Futons and air mattresses covered in colored sheets lined the perimeter while an alter sat in the back, an homage to the erotic, with granite dildos, candles, incense and a native statue of a princess straddling her king.
We sat down on the futon and began to kiss. It was fumbly, but nice. After a few minutes, we became more comfortable with each other as hands began to explore landscapes, breaths quickened, eyes shut, boots came off. He pulled back and peered at me through anxious, aroused eyes. I think I’m going to get a condom, he announced.
With my agreement to his proposal, his excitement escalated exponentially. Really? I mean really? Really? Okay. It was the surprise of a child who gets the rare treat of chocolate chip cookies right before dinner.
Yes, I said. Go get it.
He was stupefied. OhMY GOD, oh my god, this is really happening, this, um… okay, OKAY. He quickly pulled on his boots and I think he might have done a happy dance. He looked at me. Are you sure, I mean, are we really going to do this? He asked.
Stop talking and go get the condom, I replied, attempting not to sound too terribly terse.
He stumbled quickly out of the dome – a giddy schoolboy preparing for a field trip.
While he was gone I looked around the room. I spotted a bowl of condoms on the alter. I was relieved . What self-respecting sensual dome would be without one, really? He had obviously not spent enough time in there to know that its creators had the concept of safer sex covered. I leaned back on the futon, pulled off my panties and laid them next to my things. I considered taking off my dress but then decided fuck it, that’s just too much effort. It was so hot outside that it was sticking to me. Leaving it on seemed the path of least resistance.
Upon his return he was even more excited. We are really going to do this! Ohmygod! How exciting! This is great!
How old are you? I asked. I’m 26, he told me. How old are you?
It doesn’t matter.
He pulled off his pants, rolled on the condom and clamored into me. We were off to an accelerated start, he had thrust maybe five perhaps six times before he came, and very hard… at which point he offered, “Oh, yeah, I always blow my load early when I’m excited like this. But don’t worry, I can keep going!”
Alrighty. Let’s keep going then. He pulled off the used condom, put on a fresh one and climbed back into me… he was right, he could definitely keep going. But it was hot, and I was still mostly clothed, so me with my dress hiked up, sprawled out on a futon with a big dusty dude on top of me just wasn’t working for me. I was horny, yes. The sweat, the dust, the heat, the dildo-laden alter, the sheer excitement of this cute guy whose eyes were smiling blissfully and whose name I didn’t know – it was all extremely erotic to me – and I was surprised by that. I had never before had anonymous sex with someone I had just met. I was accustomed to vetting my partners beforehand, to sharing things about ourselves on the pretense of getting at least somewhat acquainted before getting at least somewhat naked. I always knew their name, the vicinity in which they lived, how they paid their bills. All I knew about this dude was that he was at Burning Man, just like I was. In any other context, he would be a stranger, but something about Burning Man bonds people; an implicit kinship forms simply by virtue of being there. Of sharing a simple moment over hummus.
Let’s move over there, I pointed towards a large cushion in the middle of the room. I want to be on top.
He laid down, cock still erect, smile still sitting sweetly on his face. I sat down on him … hard. It felt so good, and in that moment I lost myself. I was everywhere and nowhere at once. The heat, the dust, the sweat, the thumping dubstep from a nearby camp, it all faded into quiet corners of erotic oblivion. I began to move, my hips thrust rhythmically towards him. I leaned down to kiss his parched lips, and that movement, I realized in my salacious stupor, situated my clit on his pelvis in such the perfect way, I knew that staying right there, with my face a little above his, was going to work really, really well for me. So I did. I rocked on him, back and forth. And as I rocked, the necklace, the one that read CLIMAX, began to sway back and forth with me, and each forward motion of mine sent the necklace swinging right into his face.
It was as if the necklace was instructing me. Get off, Sadie. That’s why we’re here, after all. CLIMAX. NOW.
And I did.
It was one of the most forceful, elongated, evangelical orgasms I had had in a very long time. It was one of those orgasms in which the word RELEASE is actually an understatement. Where you really come to understand that your body has its own mind, and can and will take initiative. Where you learn something important about yourself, and where you give yourself permission to access that liberation, not only because you wanted to -and yes you wanted to- but because you needed to.
Yeah, It lasted what seemed like forever, that orgasm. And when I’d come back down to earth, I looked at this man, whose name I didn’t know, whose temporary Burning Man residence was the only one I was privy to, and said, That was great!
And now it is time for me to go.
He would have liked to have kept going, but I didn’t. We both got what we came for, after all.
And so I put my panties and boots back on and he got dressed. We sat chatting for a few minutes and then I gathered my things. He invited me to stop back by any time during the week but I never did. I don’t like to make plans while I am at Burning Man, I prefer to see where the dusty wind blows me.
And I was content and certainly satisfied to have been blown that hot afternoon towards a massive climax with a dusty stranger in the sensual dome.
Because, really? Why not?