The Desert Wanderer

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Metz

I was sent to investigate this wasteland, to find the people that once lived here before the cataclysm. Out in the desert I see him, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. I follow, as if I am hunting prey beneath the unbearable heat. What remembered tragedy wakes him at night with sadness in his eyes? Why is he grieving? I am curious, but cautious. But he sees me, eyes catching mine in the darkness. I reach out to comfort him, and he turns away. But I cannot stay far away, waiting for my chance to reach out again. It comes as the rains start, and I approach him through the storm, offering my hand.

Trembling, starved of human contact, we move close, barely touching at first, before we kiss. As the rain drenches us, we undress each other, slowly and sensuously, talking with our fingers. His fingers brush aside my pants, and he asks for permission, which I give. He slips his fingers inside me, all the while, kissing my neck and shoulders, and I ask to touch him, stroking him, listening to his murmurs of pleasure. We lay down, my hand on his cheek as I sit across him and welcome him inside me. Rain mixes with sweat as me move together, his eyes full of wonder and joy, his fingers stoking and smoothing over my skin, fucking each other slowly. We come together, eyes locked on each other, then curl up together as the rain stops falling. I have not solved the mystery, but we both feel less alone.