Pasha on the Playa Pt. 01

In a few minutes, Katarina said, "Marty, if you try that on us again, we really will murder you."

"How was I supposed to know you are such good fucks? Why didn't you tell me Brooklyn girls are the best?"

They climbed down from the truck and cleaned up with the shower head on a long hose. I was summoned over and cleaned too.

"You made a big mess in there. At home, we make guys use condoms. But we got the shot before leaving. You are first bareback rider!"

They giggled and beat on me and acted like loving with the plumber was good. We worked on the stir fry with gulf prawns and halibut. They were quiet, but nudging me with their hips, and pulling my hair when they went by. They asked, "Wine or beer with dinner?"

I told them I liked beer with hot food, and we had three Chinese beers. I found a clean shirt and long pants in my dusty tent, and dressed for dinner. They came back from the truck in flowered wrap outfits that I didn't imagine had anything under. They got hugs and kisses so I could check that out.

I asked, "Do we know how to work lights on the vehicle?"

"We had demonstation at home, but system needs testing. Better do that before it gets any darker."

Someone had done a nice job with the lights. Everything in LED's and lasers. Lot of color. A twelve inch square panel with many switches. Elena explained. "Along this side are on and off switches. On the other side are programs. We've never seen all of them work."

The steering was up at the throne, and guess who got to steer. In the dark, this might be exciting. A large cardboard box was handed down, and our second costumes were unwrapped. There was an amazing creation for Pasha's head. It needed the strap to keep it on. There were small wires running down the back. Katarina said there was a socket at the throne where I would be plugged in.

I made an imperial decision that the Pasha needed his women next to him tonight, not down on the bike seats.They said the batteries would be good for two hours, even with the lights flashing. We cleared a path in front of the vehicle and clambered up. The electric system was simple, a go switch, an accelerator pedal like a regular car, and an emergency kill switch. There was an illuminated guage which showed minutes of battery left. Right now it said 120.

Elena pushed several switches and a whole lot of things lit up. I turned the on switch and pressed the accelerator. With a low hum, we were off. What a kick, until I realized we were about to enter six o'clock avenue and a lot of traffic and a zillion bikes with riders draped in laser light strings. Pay attention, Pasha!

It was incredible fun, even at five miles an hour. The brakes were good, but too much brake and the whole damn thing was going over. Pay attention, Pasha. The women were impressed with their cousins' handiwork. Even six feet in the air provided a great view. We made our way slowly to the open playa and joined the nightly parade of wild and weird contraptions, all of them with creative lighting. The sun was down, the twilight fading, and the sound systems getting louder and louder.

The women used their thickest accents to say, "Pasha has best vehicle. Pasha's women happy." They got a nice kiss for that. Several bikers narrowly avoided running into us. I realized we weren't anywhere as maneuverable as they were, and stopped worrying about collisions. It was not a night for worrying. Pasha had his women, and all the colorful sights of the playa, and all the throbbing music anyone could want. I turned out of the parade, steered to a dark area and stopped. We switched the lights down to two circuits and relaxed. The battery guage said 94 minutes.

I wondered if there was anywhere else in the world a guy could sit in the middle of a desert fantasyland, with hot women, and just soak it all in. The illuminated statue of the Man dominated everything. Their heads rested on my shoulders, and if it hadn't been for the assault on our bodies by the music, we would have been asleep.

Elena said, "We are supposed to stay up all night. Dancing. Drinking. Smoking."

Katarina lay across my lap, pressed her sister's hand, and laughed. "When is the last time the librarians stayed up all night?"

Elena kissed her sister and kissed me. "Marty, unless you are a night owl, would you take us back and crawl in with Russian girls and hold us tight?"

Night navigation was an art. The lights made things look very different. It was a long, slow trip back to the truck, but no one minded. Thousands of bodies milling around, almost everyone decorated with lights. Some girls with bare tits wrapped with circular strings of colored light. Pasha's women did not have bare tits and they did not have lights wrapped around them. They did have strings running up and down their arms with animations going back and forth.

We eased up to the truck and shut everything down. The battery gauge was at 74 minutes. We could recharge in the morning.

The refrigerator yielded three sodas and we stood in the dark, leaning on each other, still taking it all in. Stars silhouetted hilltops encircling the flat playa.

I whispered to them, "This is a strange, romantic place. Not like Brooklyn."

"Yes. And we found Plumber! Now we can be happy!"

They revealed their special jug for avoiding night trips to the porta potty, and told me to go first and not to miss. I asked if they needed help and got threatened.

It was plenty cool enough to snuggle. After a few minutes, I asked, "How did you decide dumb plumber would make good friend at Burning Man?"

They sighed, and Elena said, "You are big. Russian girls like big."

Katarina said, "You are strong. Russian girls like strong."

"You have good vocabulary. Librarians like cultured guys."

"You are handsome and nice to strangers. Did not just try to hit on us."

"Did I have sex with you last night?"

"If you can't remember, is terrible insult and we are not telling."

"Why would you have anything to do with drunk plumber?"

"In Russia, guys drunk all the time. Women learn to live with it."

"Tonight, we are cold and sober! Terrible!"

They giggled and poked me and we slept.

It was light. No bodies next to me, but interesting noises at stove, which was making its roaring sound. I turned over and felt strange. Missed warm bodies.

Elena had some kind of thin robe on. Wasn't hiding much. Had coffee and juice for me. "It's nice out there. No wind."

"I can't move until I get a kiss."

I carefully leaned for the kiss and continued to wrap myself around her, melting us into the mattress and pressing my knee far between her legs.

"You are bad. I will get in trouble with Katarina. She will think I started this."

"Kiss me again and I will go out and grab her too."

Katarina saw me coming and said in her best Brooklyn voice, "Keep your distance, cowboy, I'm armed."

I hugged her from the back and said, "It's special, having a Russian girlfriend, isn't it?" I nuzzled her neck and she said, "You are going to make me wreck the eggs. Of course, Russian girlfriends are special. Plumbers always get excited by Russian girls." Elena had my hair and they both were laughing hard.

"What if plumber doesn't want to give up his special girls at end of Burning Man?"

They stared at me and said, "That is too serious before breakfast. Maybe even before lunch."

They asked about my eggs and I said, "Soft scrambled with sausage."

They looked at me and replied, "This one is not from Brooklyn. Gooey eggs?"

I nodded. Soon, wonderful soft eggs on warm plate with sausage and whole wheat toast was delivered. The coffee was very hot and very black.

A few minutes later, I said, "Plumber will do almost anything after breakfast like that. May I clean up?"

More strange looks. "Russian guys do not clean in kitchen. Better you work on sound system. Three big boxes in truck."

This was a big deal. Four giant thirty pound speakers. Brand new 7500 watt super quiet generator. Impressive looking amplifiers in enclosures with fans and filters. Several pages of instructions.

The wiring harness was color coded. The speakers had their own pedestals and tiedowns. The generator started on the first turn of the electric start. There was a CD player with space for ten discs. A remote control for use at the throne.

"Did your cousins demonstrate this at home?"

Smiles and laughs. "Almost destroyed neighborhood. Was out in front of Ivan's house. We put on dance music and had street party. Ivan handed out beer to be friendly."

"Can we test with level turned down? You know how to use remote?"

Katarina consulted the music sheet and loaded the discs. I started the generator. Amplifier lights glowed green. She pressed play and beautiful stereo sound came out. Ragtime piano. People stopped to listen.

They hugged me. I hugged them back. People clapped. We shut it down.

"Pasha, come and sit. There is special ceremony for later today."

They put a beer in my hand even though it was only eleven o'clock.

"Librarians decided Pasha should visit the Man and pay his Imperial respects."

All of a sudden, I wasn't so interested in the beer. This might involve work. Might get us in trouble with the Rangers.

"Tell me how does Pasha pay his respects?"

"We have script. You must follow it. Created after much reading of ancient texts."

"Is Pasha still alive after this is over?"

"Depends. If Man is satisfied, you will live."

Elena went on, "We must hurry, paying respects is exactly at noon."

The battery charger had been going since breakfast and its meter said the motor battery was fully charged. The women were bringing out more boxes and handing me tall standards with strange heraldic emblems on them. There were hollow pipes to receive them on the sides of the vehicle.

Next they began to dress Pasha in special imperial robes. Brilliant colors with lots of gold fabric and many glass jewels. I was going to be really really hot. My makeup was designed to make Pasha look fierce and imperial. They showed me a mirror and I did look like that. There was a sceptre topped by a hammered gold design I didn't recognise.

"We will dress and go soon." They climbed into the truck.

I was amazed when they came back. One with ground length robes and an ostrich headdress. The other in thigh length tunic with elaborate dog's headdress. My mistresses were Egyptian, not Ottoman. They were gods or goddesses. I tried to remember something of Egyptian history. My questions were deflected and I was told to ascend the throne and follow instructions. They stood on plywood platforms next to the bike pedestals. Elena had the sound remote and started the music as she waved us forward.

A low throbbing drumbeat began, kettle drums in a slow march tempo. The bass notes punched you in the gut. We moved forward through a gathering crowd to six o'clock avenue, where walkers, riders and vehicles parted for the imperial procession. I was steering and trying to make sense of the script. The music got louder and more instruments blared forth. Trumpet flourishes began, and loud instructions in Russian to make way for Pasha. At least that is what the script said.

By the time we reached Center Camp, the procession had picked up followers. The voice over commanded mortals to bow before Pasha and some even did so. The gods were arching their arms over the multitudes. Cries went up, "Anubis, Osiris!" The music was helping us float along the marked path to the Man. Dirge like martial music, fit for a Pasha arriving in the presence of the Man. The always transient but powerful Man.

We drew up before the giant structure and stopped, surrounded by hundreds of curious Burners. The music shifted to a lighter note, almost spiritual sounding. The gods descended to the playa and gestured me to join them.

We stepped forward, the gods a half step behind. Elena, the Anubis god, held the music remote, shifting to yet another melody. At the forward end of the path, with an enclosing fence running off on either side, we stopped and bowed. Drum rolls began and we got on our knees. A collective gasp went up from behind us. A female figure, covered in flowing gauze, with a jeweled tiara, moved toward us from beneath the Man. She was ten feet tall. Her legs attached to stilts were cleverly camouflaged with trouser fabric.

Elena worked the remote again, and the tall goddess spoke out above the crowd in Russian. The gods with me bowed to the dirt and Pasha did the same, holding on tightly to the headdress.

The voice was now in accented English. "Rise. The handmaiden of the Man welcomes you. Alexander Pasha, you grace our royal presence. Your imperial carriage impresses us. Be at peace with our desert world. Remind us of the ancients and their world now vanished."

The handmaiden's arms reached out over us to the crowd and the music began a triumphal tune, such as royals had always inspired. Two acolytes appeared and the stilt lady magically jumped into their arms from the stilts. She approached and my women embraced her.

I stared, dumbstruck by the whole performance. There was loud applause in the background. The handmaiden goddess shed her gauze to reveal a simple tunic in white.

She beckoned me, and the women said, "Pasha, this is Svetlana, our Mother. She has come from Russia for Burning Man."

The professor was amazingly strong. I was crushed in her grip. The accented voice said in my ear, "My girls like you, Marty." Her kiss was tender at first but hard and passionate as it went on. Cheering broke out.

I said, "Mom, the script is breaking down. Are you going back on the vehicle with us?"

"I will ride with you. The crowd will think Pasha has taken a new wife."

We ascended to the throne and carefully turned the vehicle around. The music changed to a spritely tune and we moved off to more applause.

Katarina, the god of the Underworld, said, in her Brooklyn voice, "Mom, don't get too cozy with Marty, he is ours. You are only his wife in the script."

Svetlana had my hand and said, "You are not going to marry these over-educated heathens, are you?"

I responded, "Your daughters take after their mother. Smart, beautiful, tough minded. They got to me first. If you hit on me, I will get death threats."

"When we get to the truck, I will deal with them. I hope there is food. I rode the early bus this morning and haven't eaten."

"You are going to tell me the whole story of this incredible little opera?"

"Yes. Did you like it?"

"I loved it, but was scared the whole time. Plumbers are not used to this treatment."

She laughed. "You are cute. They had no idea if they could find a suitable Pasha. Certainly no one in Brooklyn would do."

She leaned over, "If I beat the girls until they agree, will you sleep with me? They say you are a great lover."

"Sister, she is stealing him and we aren't even back to the truck!"

Fortunately, we arrived at that moment. The heavy clothes went in the boxes and the girls said there was enough water for a quick shower. Svetlana watched the close encounter and decided she wanted that too. We soaped her and fondled her fifty year old boobs, which were very firm. Her hand reached for me, but Katarina said, "That is not allowed."

Which only resulted in a tight clinch with my cock riding between her legs.

"Elena, why didn't we think of this problem before. Now he has three girlfriends."

Katarina whispered in her mother's ear while fixing lunch. They insisted the four of us stay naked in the bright sun for our meal. After sips from a tequila sunrise, which seemed very popular with Russian women, I grabbed the sunscreen and went to work. Svetlana had the place of honor between her daughters, and I loved the chance to slowly slide my slippery fingers across the top of her shoulders, down her chest and completely around her breasts, paying special attention to large nipples which lengthened and stiffened under my touch.

"Ooh, he is very bad. You let him rub your body anywhere?"

"Mama, he is tender and loving. Not like big lunkheads at home!"

Elena smiled at me, and giggled. I moved to her front and applied equal treatment. She squirmed and I dealt more harshly with her boobs. "Svetlana, this one is special. She showed me the book and taught me about how to be Pasha." I leaned down for a very hot kiss.

Mama asked, "She gets kiss and I don't?"

I moved back and had a long torrid kiss with the mother, who had my hair in her hands, twisting my head back and forth. I whispered in her ear, "You are going to attack me in bed? Do Russian women hit on their men?"

She stood and dragged me to the truck. Soon, four naked bodies were wrestling and giggling and using hands in private places. The girls got mama down, and held her legs in the air so that everything was offered to Pasha, who held nothing back and plunged his big, hard cock straight in.

The wail was long and hard. "Oooooh. He is a devil..."

I concentrated on giving her special loving, the kind she would get in Constantinople, from a proper Pasha. Long hard thrusts, with gutteral noises of command and dominance.

"You Russian women come to the Ottoman palace and expect mercy? What a foolish thought! You are now my concubine! A harem woman to enjoy."

Katarina joined the fun by chewing on a fat maternal nipple and whispering in Russian. The strong thick body shuddered with an orgasm. I stopped being the bad guy and kissed her softly. "I've never had hot sex with a professor before. You are great lover, mama."

We flipped over and she lay on me, breathing heavily. "You are good for nothing badass fucker, Marty. I love you."

Things got soft and lovey after that, except the girls kept me on my back so they could ride my big cock and get themselves off. Svetlana watched me going in and out of the beautiful young bodies and nibbled on my fingers. She kissed my cheek and said, "That big thing fixes three women at once?"

Katarina closed in the curtain, turned on the a/c, and we all had a nap.

Fingers stroking my limp organ woke me. The young ones were working on their mother, who was working on me. I had a suspicion the professor was not getting enough sex at home. One daughter was entertaining her tits, and the other had fingers in her pussy. I provided lip play and got hard again.

"Besides sex, what are Pasha and his women going to do?"

"Tonight, Mama must go in parade with us. Maybe tomorrow morning, we go for bike ride all over the city."

Svertlana pushed her daughters out of the way and sat on my hips, crushing my important part underneath.

"You and I will talk. Daughters will bring drinks."

I pulled her down and tucked her head into my shoulder. "You have two wonderful daughters. Why did you wait so long to come to America?"

"Marty, it is like they said. You are instant friend and lover. With your arms around me, I am safe in this wild west desert."

She went on, "Is hard story about Svetlana and America. I was silly for many years, even after perestroika. What if we start from me being here with you?" She snuggled tighter. The drinks arrived, along with two women looking lonely.

"She has totally stolen him. There is nothing left for us."

"Come here, useless ones, or I will beat your tough behinds. Sit next to us and behave. Your mama is trying to have a serious conversation." I pulled their heads in for kisses.

We all got in a circle and mother talked about not wanting to go back to Omsk. "Is bad. Not like Soviets, but new leaders corrupt and do not care about education away from Moscow. Is it possible for me to teach in America?"

I pulled one of the twins into my lap and tickled her. "Librarian, tell mother about jobs for academics." Elena tried to sit up but I held her down, nibbling on the back of her neck and fondling one of the fine boobs.