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I have to admit, despite all the talk of sex at the Burning Man festival, I pretty much struck out last year, and every year for that matter. I did, however, get a slave for a day. It was Sunday morning after the burn, and I was fairly burned myself. I was fetching some water when I noticed a friend holding onto a chain which emanated from camp cutie Trixie's dog collar. "Wow," was all I could muster. "You want her?" he asked. "She's yours." He handed me the reigns, and like a good doggie, Trixie galloped to my side, licking my playa-encrusted hand. For the next few hours, I had my very own personal dog/slave, clad in nothing but a tiny transparent lace outfit.  It was pretty fun, although admittedly I'm not the most effective master. Even though Trixie was happy kneeling at my feet, it wasn't long before I allowed her to sit next to me on a nearby couch. I even took the chain off at one point and fed her Triscuits and Otter Pops (which make quite the BM treat). I'm a bad master, but it was something I had never done before, and it was fun.And that's what Burning Man is all about, to me. If you're not familiar with the now-legendary festival (currently on its 17th year), it's kind of a cross between a giant hedonistic freak out and boot camp survival/endurance challenge. Emblazoned on every Burning Man ticket is a statement warning that the organizers are not responsible for the very real threat of death or injury at their festival. Indeed, death and injury are almost staples at the weeklong event. Another staple that's much less dire is sexuality, if not just plain sex. Amidst the sea of chaos and art and the Beavis-esque preoccupation with all things pyrotechnic is a current of sex-positive activity. There really is something for just about every prurient interest under the guiding neon glow of the man. Swingers can trade their partners in for new opportunities at Costco, a camp that surveys participants then matches them up with possible partners based on data given. Queer men can park their "beaters" (low-budget bikes brought out for playa abuse and transportation) in front of the Jiffy Lube camp and just about be sure of procuring some, uhhh, ill-gotten booty within. One camp even gave daily lessons in the art of BDSM, with classes ranging from pleasing a master to using extremes of hot and cold to tantalize a loved one. This year, an amazing and arousing set of sex-related theme camps await to titillate the body and mind. From Seattle's AROUSAL camp to the equally Seattlean Virgin Sacrifice, there's plenty to occupy those whose taste goes well beyond the tepid.
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