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Hot In The Desert: The Sexy, Transformative Times Of Burning Man


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So I've just returned from an inaugural trip to Burning Man, that wild arts 'n' culture fest in the middle of the Nevada desert. Phew. I had no idea what to expect, and did come back a little shell shocked. But now that I've had a few days to let the dust settle, I think I can truly say this was probably the best week of my life. Sexywise, and beyond.

Now, naturally Florabel wanders the world with a bit of sexual heart-on-sleevedness as par for the course. And upon arrival into that harsh desert oasis, catching eyefuls of the naked dicks and bared tits of a significant amount of the populace did make her heart soar. But -- okay, back to first person here -- these exposed bits of humanity were but a flag that indicated the vast, totally unprecedented openness one finds here. Because the primary tenets of this temporary, yet fully-functioning and magical, community are radical self-expression and radical inclusion -- with no judgments. What a freeing feeling that is!

Obviously, being the sexually-tilted little gal I am, I found myself rather quickly wandering to where the whores play. There was basically a neighborhood of sluttery quite close to my own quarters. And, of course, I was not disappointed. Basically, if a body aims to seek out nearly any carnal desire, a body'll find it. Always wanted to participate in a polyamorous orgy before breakfast? Wish to experience the sensation of being suspended by ropes in the air and spanked by a group of chicks? Care to indulge your bro side and shimmy in the sunset at SlutGarden? Want to take in a circle jerk with afternoon tea? It's all possible, friends. I actually can't get into too much specific detail here with my personal adventures because of the privacy of theme camps and parties involved, save one encounter described below, but let me just tell you -- you'll find what you're looking for. And in a safe, welcoming, warm and sexy environment nonetheless. I was in heaven, y'all.

I did actually manage to remember my journalistic integrity and announce my reporterly intents before entering a dungeon-themed camp, where I was treated to a tour of the modest digs. The place was set up at a street corner totally open to passers-by, outfitted with a Saint Andrew's Cross (upon which I witnessed a gorgeous babe strapped down and getting ever so softly worked over -- yeah, I nearly creamed), tables of tools for pain and pleasure, and slaves crawling about under the guise of a brusque master: these folks were also available for play with singles and couples.

The gentleman (...) who showed me around took the initiative to sample the available wares on me, which I, somewhat surprisingly, found myself not resisting. This was an older fellow, one who in waking life I can pretty much guarantee wouldn't normally see me in his sexual ken. Yet here I was, tucked just in from the beating sun, finding myself alternately flogged, alternately slapped with a variety of riding crop, alternately stroked with a feather, struck with an array of whip -- and each carried an erotic charge I've never felt at the hand of a stranger.

Guys, this was something else. There's a communal safety and trust that somehow permeates the whole environment at large, a basic "no fuckery" attitude that made me feel quite at ease no matter what -- and in this instance, that comfort translated into an easy eroticism that was at once unfamiliar yet totally welcome. It was, in a word, transformative.

I know I've been using the inactive verb of "finding myself" in certain situations or experiences out there, but this kind of sums up my Burning Man affair in general. I wasn't sure what to seek out or what to expect (and couldn't really have known if I tried), but with a sense of openness and adventure I became a participant in encounters and events that came to me, and were beyond what I could have even imagined.

I suppose this is actually true in life in general, and I sometimes forget that. Receptiveness -- it's a quality that can give back tenfold. Think on it. But, lest I weep upon my soapbox, I can truly say I took away from this whole insane desert experiment something that won't be easily shaken (and no, it's not VD. Fingers crossed). Much love, babes. Now I've gotta go lie down in the dark a while.

Heya, you -- Follow Florabel on Twitter!


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