I would never wear clothes if it were socially acceptable. Pasties and panties and nothing else are my own personal heaven. I just spent a week at my own personal utopia. Where and what is this utopia you may ask? It’s at a burner festival in the woods. No, we’re not a music festival. Instead we stem from Burning Man, and we are about building a community and artwork for a short period of time. This festival is my magical place where I can walk around the woods in my pasties, panties, and handy utility belt and hula-hoop to my heart’s content. Sadly, my partner R did not join me in this adventure. To say that he hates the woods is an understatement, and not everyone is ready to go a week without showering.
This is my first year that I attended this event while being in a monogamous relationship. Usually I troll the nighttime parties searching for my new partner in crime that can also be my partner in bed. Last year I had the pleasure of meeting D who not only introduced me to my first kink party, but also whom I met my boyfriend with. D and I had experienced an intense passion in the woods. This year unfortunately that would not be allowed. I had talked to a female friend about us possibly having our first full sexual encounter at this festival but that never found its way to fruition (female only sex would have been okay with R). I had made plenty of friends this year though, including a man I’ll call Beard Guy. He was new to the festival so I quickly took to becoming his official tour guide. Supposedly the first thing he saw when he entered the festival was me hooping naked, and from that moment on he knew it would be a thrilling week.
My second night hanging out with Beard Guy was at the event where we burn down a fifty-foot bug. It is a giant party. Beard Guy sat on the sheet I had layed down on the grass. I was beginning to feel the effects of a friend called Molly, and he was drunk. He began massaging my shoulders and scratching my head. In my state it felt amazing. I loved him touching me and I wanted it to continue for as long as possible, but I had to make my situation very clear (I hate being a tease).
“I’d love to spend the night wandering from party to party and cuddling with you, but I need to say that I do have a boyfriend and the cuddling is fine, but please do not try anything else. Don’t kiss me, don’t anything.”
He agreed. He remembered the boyfriend I had discussed with him previously and this arrangement suited him fine. We continued to snuggle. I’d pet his hair or his beard, and when the bug finally burned down we ran around it holding hands and howling like coyotes. We joined members of his camp who were also rolling and spent the night petting each other’s heads and enjoying the tactile sensation. You know it’s a fun night when you spend time in what is called a seizure dome. The men also took turns bull riding this rocket, and I learned Beard Guy did not need any hands to stay on. Finally Beard Guy and I sat around a campfire and watched the sun rise. His face would rub against my neck, but as promised he never once tried to kiss me or any part of me.
He finally posed the question of whether this night would end with him dropping me at my tent. I had thought about this a bit. I never intended to do more than cuddle, but had thought about whether it would be crossing a line to sleep cuddling with each other. In the end I knew I could not do that to R. Sleep cuddling was our thing. It was intimate and personal and something I couldn’t share with anyone else without feeling immense guilt. So he walked me back to my tent and I told his drunk self exactly how to make it back to his camp.
The next day I didn’t know how Beard Guy would feel about the events of last night. When I saw him everything was casual, but nothing more seemed to come about and it saddened me. Finally when I went for his camp’s Hentai party (Asian cartoon porn with tentacles that we mute and dub in funny ways) I asked him if he’d like to cuddle. Soon I was on his lap, and without the drugs as an excuse it felt that much more sexual. We later wandered through camps doing a shot of absinth here or sitting and watching a campfire there. We touched even more than the previous night. The air was full of sexual tension. Our faces rubbed against each other like lions nuzzling, but no matter how close we got we never so much as kissed. It was insanely hot because on some level not being able to do anything is hotter than just going and fucking and being done with all that lead up. Soon our time was over and we parted ways near my tent yet again.
The next day I packed up in the early morning and caught my train home. It was two days after my chemical excursion and depression was kicking in. I was feeling insane guilt for having cuddled another man, and even though I knew that a lot of these feelings were coming from the crash I was having I knew that I would have to tell R. I sat at home crying on and off for no reason until he came home.
When R entered he dropped everything and he rushed to hug me. He was so overjoyed that I was home. We sat and I told him all about my festival, and then I told him I had snuggled with someone else for two of the nights at the parties. I burst into tears again, and let him know we didn’t even kiss or sleep in each other’s tents. R rushed to console me.
“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong,” R told me. He let me know everything I did was okay. The next day when I was feeling more like myself he reiterated this statement. It just proves to me more and more what a wonderful man R is. He is the love of my life. I had an amazing time with Beard Guy, and yes I’m horny still thinking about it, but I wouldn’t trade R for the world.