Snow on the Sahara
Lightly based on "The Woman On The Dunes" By Anais Nin
The air conditioner switched cycles. The ice machine rattled. Somewhere in the distance, a bed groaned and squeaked in jubilation. He cursed and pulled a pillow over his ears.
It was too easy to give up; too much weight on his ear. It was roasting him. He stared at the ceiling, paralyzed, entranced by the peachy-orange colors reflected onto the ceiling. Then he levered himself up, shaking his stiffened wrists and twisting his hips.
Too hot. He couldn't stand to sleep.
Sloughing sweat from his forehead, he dressed for the weather; a plain white tee shirt, khaki shorts, sandals. Took off. Away from the city, as far as he could go, seeing the hellish Halloween-orange Street lights fading as he cut through the soupy air, his heat only redoubled by the blasts filtering by him.
He parked and dumped a few quarters into the meter. He peered around, checking for any sort of security that might be lurking about.
But there was no one; the curved iron gates swung open in the cool sea breeze, abandoned. He went inside and took off his sandals.
For miles down the coast, nothing came into his line of sight. Complete solitude.
He crouched down on the sand, splashing his burning face with the icy ocean water as it rolled past his humid feet. It was not relief enough.
He decided to walk. For a few hours, there was no one and nothing, He tripped several times over the warm hills of sand, falling into sinkholes, places where fathers had sat buried up to their necks while their children shoveled sand onto their heads.
Then, he saw Her. A lone figure, seemingly drifting over the sand beneath her feet, covered only in a beach towel. She climbed down the jagged, rocky hillside, stepping carefully down the carved steps with a feline grace, jumping over the last two, about a foot to the grassy sand below. Then, with quick, powerful steps, she crossed the ground separating her from the ocean. The towel slipped down her body and hit the sand, then she allowed the tide to pull her to the ocean, where she began to firmly tread water about a mile into the water.
He ran. It would take forever to catch her. Impossible. But he was stronger than he had assumed. In mimicry, he shed his own clothing and followed her, hovering, close to her being. Arousal set in; his sex erected. Embarrassed, he moved away.
She gasped, sensing a presence by her. She paddled around in a circle and faced him.
"Michael?!" Her eyes were almost crossed in confusion. Her arms rose from the ocean, covering her breasts; her legs tread water.
"Lisa," He whispered. She watched his face for a very long time. His features had softened since she saw him last; his face was lighter. He smiled bashfully, his white teeth glittering in the light.
"How can you stand there and smile at me? This isn't acepthmmmm!" He cut her harsh words with a honeyed tongue. She whimpered against his mouth, forgetting to kick, forgetting to breathe...She went limp against him, forcing Michael to paddle for both of their bodies.
They pulled apart. Breathing heavily, their eyes locked. He floated around her body, a shark, circling; then he brushed the length of his body against her back. Again. She moaned, her back arching; her head came to rest against his shoulder. She stroked with her feet as he cupped her chin and took her in a deep kiss, grasping her by the belly.
His erection stroked the pearled cleft of her sex. She moaned as he pressed deeper. A wicked smirk crossed her face; she pushed away from him and stroked smoothly to the water's edge. She threw herself onto the beach, spreading her legs.
Steven could see her moist sex glistening through it's mossy cover, becoming more defined the closer he stepped to her.
He knelt, pressing to her sex.
And went limp.
He flushed, embarrassed, unable to understand his own physical response. The flush of arousal had not abated. He moved to masturbate his flaccid flesh, but she stilled his hand.
"It's OK," She touched the towel she'd discarded with the tips of her fingers, pulling it from beneath his khakis and pulling it around her damp body, "Come; we'll walk for awhile."
He felt forlorn, picking up his clothing. She slipped his finger through his fist, pulling him down the jagged waterline.
They talked; about the time they'd spent apart, the season. Even missing one another. They paused to look up at the sky; she said something about the expanse of navy-blue sky, dotted with white-fogged stars and half moons appearing too enthrall. "Like split star soup" she uttered.
Something in what she said stirred his passion; he pressed her near for another kiss. They fell to the ground, rolling through the sand, hot and warm. They devoured their love's tongues, starving, desirous, a hermit crab seeking a shell to hide inside. His hardened penis found her moist warmth; she caressed him with her hand and slipped it inside, and squeezed, her heels locking around his buttocks.
She was frantic, lunging, pounding. But this time he pulled away from her, running further down the land. She leapt to her feet, chasing him down.
Up and down the coastline, they ran, laughing, caught up in their star-spun game. She fell to her knees at the end of the property, fellating him quickly. He groaned in painful desire; laughing when she broke away once again to run the opposite way.
He grasped her around the waist, turning her and lifting her. She hooked her legs around his head, moaning in surprise as he tongue separated her cleft and stroked over the unhooded knob of her desire.
He walked down the beach, holding her sex to his wide-open mouth, toying with her clitoris. She tasted pleasantly of an unfettered, hygienic woman; chickeney, shrimp-like. She smelled of ocean water; he sucked a pool of it from the inner recesses of her womanhood. Lisa gasped, repeatedly, breathy deep groans that made him laugh against the engorged bud.
Damn, this was fun. He'd forgotten that this act could even embody lighter emotions. He dropped her back to her feet, and they fell to the ground, copulated.
Even then, he couldn't come. He pulled out of her sex, stoking his cock over her over-sensitized flesh.
"No more teasing," She panted against his jaw, shivering from head to toe, "Possess me!"
He smirked down, pulling away from her and climbing up the jagged steps that had brought her to him. She followed; feeling the heat of her belly and breasts press against his back as he walked into her rented cottage and closed the door behind them.
Instantly, they fell into the bed; he pushed into her unfurled sex. They were sober as she knotted her legs around his neck, arching her eager bottom around and over his sex.
On the second stroke he was coming, giving her sex every ounce of his essence. Her body responded wholly to his pulsations, his throaty groans, driven past the point of endurance, beyond caring, transcending the reality she had known.
***
The next morning, a breeze flirted with his nose. Cool, oddly cool. He turned over, expecting nothingness beside him.
Lisa.
She murmured something against the puddle of drool she had deposited on his chest through the nocturne; shouldn't one of them be making coffee? A mimosa would be good...then his tongue slipping into her mouth obliterated thought.
This is what he had been seeking, for more than a single sticky night in the city. For the whole of his existence.
But now the fever had broken.