Wiseguy

He was the definition of sexy.

Tall, handsome in a rugged way, and big chested with a voice like he gargles with glass, I found him totally irresistible.

And miracle of miracles, he liked me too.

Before I knew it we were the only two people in the room.

He told me I was terrible at flirting and he was probably right.

I have two modes: shy and full-out.

This time around I was shy and unsure with occasional bursts of boldness.

First, I sent a friend to find out if he was married or attached to someone.

When I found out he was single, I actually leaned across the bar, right in front of him, and stared at his lips until he came closer and said, “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, seeing as how I can’t get any closer, I’m going to stare at your lips until you close the distance between your lips and mine,” I said.

“Or, you could grab me by the back of my head and pull me to you,” he suggested cheekily.

Wish granted!

When he finally kissed me my whole body got into it.

It was intense.

Consuming.

Before I knew it, we were in his RV fooling around to the light of my LED kitty ears.

Ah, Burning Man, how much I love thee!

Beards

Honestly, I’m not sure where my love of beards comes from.

As a kid, I HATED it when my dad grew a beard.

I preferred him clean shaven.

Now, as an adult woman, I LOVE beards.

In fact, I seem to SEEK OUT men with beards.

The only exception to this rule is The Swede.

He is clean shaven and I like him that way.

Although I did enjoy seeing him get SCRUFFY at UnSCruz.

But for the most part, I’m into beards and lumberjacks.

I know this because every time I see a picture of a man with a beard or a goatee, MY OVARIES SHUDDER.

My friend Dean recently went to Burning Man.

And he grew a beard for it. And boy did I ENJOY his beard!

He looked like a bearded Sean Connery.

Totally hot!

In fact, I’d say that 6 of my last 9 lovers have had beards or some sort of facial hair.

Not that I’m counting. . .

While at Burning Man, I myself managed to hook up with a bearded fellow from a neighboring camp.

He complimented me on knowing how to kiss a man with a beard.

Little did he know how much practice I’ve had!

Of course you know what they say:

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT!

So I’d better practice A LOT MORE.

I’m gonna come

“But she made the most exquisite noises during lovemaking. . . “ a friend was telling me as he described the things he loved about his ex girlfriend.

First I giggled.

Then I groaned.

I am not a noisemaker.

No.

I am actually relatively quiet.

A sigh here. A little moan there. But nothing too ostentatious.

My lovers can testify to this.

The marked exception is when I feel the BIG O coming on.

Then I’m full of comments and directions.

I am also well noted for liking to say my lover’s name out loud, over and over again.

But I do usually pause before saying any name and question myself, “Is this the right name? Yes? Then proceed.”

So far, I have managed to always say the right name.

At Burning Man, this can be a problem, however.

I know people by their playa names and somehow screaming out “Synergy” or “Panther” during sex seems very comical.

The other day, I was fooling around with someone.

We’ll call him Wiseguy.

And the last thing I could do was scream THAT out.

So I stopped ALL THE ACTION.

And I said, “Wait! I don’t even know your name!”

Sort of ironic, here we are engaging in casual sex and I can’t proceed without a name.

“It’s Ethan,” he told me.

“Oh, ok,” I replied.

“Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna come.”

Save

Wiseguy

He was the definition of sexy.

Tall, handsome in a rugged way, and big chested with a voice like a radio star, I found him totally irresistible.

And miracle of miracles, he liked me too.

Before I knew it we were the only two people in the room.

He told me I was terrible at flirting and he was probably right.

I have two modes: shy and full-out.

This time around I was shy and unsure with occasional bursts of boldness.

First, I sent a friend to find out if he was married or attached to someone.

When I found out he was single, I actually leaned across the bar, right in front of him, and stared at his lips until he came closer and said, “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, seeing as how I can’t get any closer, I’m going to stare at your lips until you close the distance between your lips and mine,” I said.

“Or, you could grab me by the back of my head and pull me to you,” he suggested cheekily.

Wish granted!

When he finally kissed me my whole body got into it.

It was intense.

Consuming.

Before I knew it, we were in his RV fooling around to the light of my LED kitty ears.

Ah, Burning Man, how much I love thee!