Desert Heat

Michael's heart was pounding as he drove, and his hands on the steering wheel were damp. His mind was overwhelmed with complexity of his situation, and beads of sweat had formed on his brow. No matter where he turned, no matter how he looked at it, he knew he was in trouble.

She looked like she was no older than eighteen years old, with her smooth, lithe body and waist-length black hair. He knew now she was, in fact, nineteen, but he had sweated it for awhile. Her unusually striking face was flawless, untouched by make-up and very much like a young girl's. Her smile was bright and Michael suspected she hadn't been out of the braces she spoke of for very long at all.

Still, the little vixen had merely shrugged her shoulders when he asked. Helplessly, he had asked her if she was closer to twenty, only to be rewarded by her silvery peals of laughter and her sparkling eyes. Her smile had been fond but a little bit mocking—so Michael knew, whatever her age, this wasn't a good idea at all.

He stole a furtive glance at her, lounging beside him in the bucket seat of his old, cantankerous Charger. It occurred to him that when the car was made she had been about eight years old. Michael felt himself go pale, and he clutched the steering wheel harder in his hands, unable to stop the skip in his heart as she turned those beautiful eyes on him.

"Michael, you are adorable when you are nervous." She drawled, grinning at him, lifting her hand and placing it lightly on his thigh. Jolts of electricity shot through his body and his response was immediate—the cock hardened and drops of pre-cum began to collect on its head.

He felt the jolt deep in his stomach and looked away, silently cursing his own weakness. He should have tossed her out on her ass eight months ago, when he first knew her. They were in the same class, and she was just another one of those bratty Air Force kids putting in her time while her daddy finished out his career. By her own admission, she had always enjoyed attending college courses on base with the soldiers because it was convenient and it was one hell of a dating pool.

She had waltzed right into that classroom with her head held high, barely five feet tall and possessed of a sensational figure which included the finest ass he had ever seen. Michael's dick had hardened in an instant in silent salute of the fresh-faced exotic beauty that walked with a jaunty step and saucy air. Her red sundress was a sharp contrast to their green fatigues and the business clothes worn by some of the other students but she had seemed perfectly content as she dropped into the seat next to him, smoothing back her silky hair and crossing her pretty legs. His gaping eyes had immediately followed the curve of those legs, taking in the high-heeled sandals with the thin strap around the ankle. Her tiny feet were gorgeous, and he had marveled at the carefully polished toes, feeling like a perverted old goat as he tried to draw his eyes away and contain the rush of lust boiling in his loins.

Then, when they were all given the assignment of attending a play at the local university, Michael found himself with the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other arguing their cases. She didn't have a way to get to the presentation that was required for their paper, and before the angel could bind his tongue, he had offered her a ride, not knowing then how badly he'd want to give one to her by night's end.

He picked her up at seven sharp, mindful of the curious looks of the neighbors in base housing and endlessly grateful that her parents hadn't been home. He outranked her father, and he didn't think daddy would be pleased to know she was getting a ride from a man barely younger than himself, rank or no rank. When she slid in the seat beside him, he could barely breathe as he took in her simple black sheath, her strand of pearls, and hair lifted into ringlets to frame her face. Her high cheekbones were faintly touched with color and her almond-shaped eyes were lined by dark kohl, somehow intensifying the Asian in her features and downplaying the Caucasian. His own face had flamed with pure male appreciation, and lust had set a fire within him as he stared at her, his own jeans and nice shirt making him feel like a country boy down on the farm.

He had mumbled something about changing his clothes, and her smile had been easy and filled with mirth as she regarded him with those searing eyes. "I don't mind at all," she had commented, insisting that they go to his apartment so he could change.

When they entered the unit, he had done a strange thing—immediately, he had moved aside pictures of his wife and family, trying desperately to be discreet. A nervous hand moved through his short blond hair and he had cast her worried look as she sat in his favorite lounge chair, folding her hands patiently in her lap.

While he was in his bedroom, struggling to find something to wear, his mind raced. He was thirty-seven years old, lean and athletic at 6'1, and attractive in an All-American sort of way. Women had always seemed interested in him, and although he was separated from his wife, he had never been with anyone else. The truth was, no one had ever appealed to him nearly as much as that little girl sitting in his living room right now!

At last he decided. Pulling on a nice shirt, he walked out into the living room and froze, blinking his eyes at the sight. Laine was curled up on the couch, her head back and her eyes closed. Michael stared, his mouth parting as he admired her, feeling the adrenaline rush through him and feeling his desire for her flare again. She looked so unbidden, so natural and young that he felt like he would die if he didn't touch her.

Almost without knowing how, he was beside her, kneeling, his fingers shaking as he touched her hair. It was like silk, and the softness of it thrilled him as he ran his hands through the sculpted curls. She seemed to stir at his touch, but her tiredness won out and she merely shifted, causing the material of her dress to ride up a bit. For a moment, Michael was frozen, but then a small frown passed briefly over her features before she settled deeper into her dreams.

Michael inhaled shakily, his eyes falling on her smooth thigh, now exposed. His hand began to creep upward, settling along the hem of her dress, and he scarcely breathed as he began to raise it higher. Inch by inch, the material fell away from her golden skin until she was bared to the waist, revealing her black mesh thong to his wondering eyes.

Beneath the nearly-transparent material, the lips of her sex were clearly defined against the smoothly shaped skin...Michael closed his eyes as an audible groan escaped his lips. Desire lit a fire within his soul and his body trembled with the unfamiliar heat. Never in his life had he felt what he was feeling now, and the demand of his body to possess hers was a mad thing. He had never cheated on his wife, and—

Laine's legs parted slightly, and the shift in her position caused Michael to stumble forward. He fell against her, catching himself and staring in horror at her dazed face. "I..." He stammered.

Her smile was slow, sensuous, and a bit mocking. "Somehow, I thought I'd be awake for this," she drawled, her eyes twinkling as he flushed, "I would have liked to watch your expressions, especially if they are anything like they are now...." She smiled suddenly. "I'm nineteen, Michael," she offered.

Michael grimaced, and tried to pull away, but her legs opened and he shifted more, pressing against her as she lifted those legs and wrapped them around his waist. A small, womanly laugh escaped her and she gazed at him with teasing eyes, "well, I'm really impressed, sir...I never would have thought you had it in you, although I must say you did protest too much to really be believed...of course, I'd much rather know you had it in me."

He shook his head, trying to deny her words, but her laughter ceased and she suddenly gazed at him with a look he had never seen. Heat rushed to his face as her lips parted, and he felt his hands grow damp as she raised her small hands to touch his face. "I'm only teasing, lover...I'm glad I interest you." She said softly, caressing him from the inside out, "I hope what you see pleases you."

Michael felt the churning within him, and when she gently eased him closer, he felt his hardness pulsing against the thin material of her panties. He tried not to think of seeing those only moments before, but her lips on his ear made him feel weak. "I want to feel you inside me." She whispered, "I want to have your hands on my body..."

"I can't," Michael groaned, trying to pull away, "I'm married, Laine, and I can't..."

"I don't care...touch me, Michael, and forget everything else right now. I want you..." Laine urged, her voice low, sexy, hypnotic. Michael's hand moved on its own accord, traveling between them and resting briefly on her thigh. "Laine," he groaned, cursing himself, "Laine, don't..."

Her pussy was soaking. His finger against the outer lips was wet, and he shivered at the sensation. Michael tried not to think of his wife, and the KY that had become a necessity. He tried not to think of anything but the sensation of the tightness enveloping his finger as he slid it inside her, and he closed his eyes in agony as she began to moan, raising her hips and rocking against his hands. Michael tried to pull away, but it was too late. He felt his cock explode inside his pants and he groaned in humiliation.

"Naughty man, what a waste," Laine laughed, shaking her finger at him. Michael tried to pull away but she moved swiftly, sinking to her knees before him. "Let me," she whispered, smiling sexily up at him, and her hands moved to undo his jeans.

"No!" Michael hissed, fiercely, trying to shove her hands away. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her smile became slightly cool as she studied him. "Michael, don't be a fool." She chided. "What an opportunity you have here, in your private little world...here I am, at your feet, literally, and you would push me away?" Laine demanded, incredulously.

Michael groaned. A moment of indecision and her hands were moving again. His jeans were sliding down his lean hips and his boxers were going with it. The cool air on his stiffening cock was incredible, and he felt helpless as she lifted her eyes to look at him, and then....took him into her mouth and began to suck.

"No, please...." Michael almost sagged to his knees. His mind swam and he felt dizzy as Laine began licking his shaft and swirling her tongue around the mushroom head, dipping the very tip of her tongue into the tiny hole...Her small hands were moving over his ass and thighs, as though seeking out parts of him, and his skin felt like it was burning along the path of her fingers. Never in his life had he experienced this, his wife had thought it dirty, and he had never had anyone else...Fuck, this is what the fuss was about....

Her knowing fingers were working beneath his balls, one hand cupped him, squeezing him softly, gently while she occasionally sucked and nipped at them...but something else...Michael stiffened, then yelped as he felt one of her fingers against his ass, pushing at his unyielding entrance.

"What are you doing!??" Michael groaned, jerking. His movement gave her the leverage she needed. Michael blanched as her finger sank into him and she began to stroke his ass without stopping her relentless assault on his desperate cock.

Her finger had found some type of magic. Michael groaned deeply as the sensations began to collect and he felt as though his body was humming. Something was swelling within him, and it felt as though he were about to burst. His ass was burning, but her fingers—she had worked another one in—up his back door was unbelievable, and he began to jerk, feeling dizzy as he grasped her long hair and began to earnestly fuck her mouth.

Then, unbelievably, he was cumming again! Michael tried to shove her away but she held fast, her mouth tightening over his pulsing cock. He could fill himself flooding her hot little mouth and he gave in, sagging against her as she continued to suck on him. He stroked her soft hair and held her, his heart pounding and his whole body shaking. She had gazed back at him with knowing, almost mocking, eyes...

That was eight months ago. Eight months of that same torture....Michael shook his head to clear the image of her on her knees before him, and the lustful look on her face every time she went down on him. He had somehow avoided fucking her—by definition, at least, he thought, wryly, but it had pretty much been "anything but." How many hours had they passed on his old sofa, touching each other, stroking each other's bodies? How many times had she cum as he moved his fingers along her swollen clit, or nibbled on her proud nipples? Her body—total perfection—how familiar it was to him now after months of holding her in his arms and touching it everywhere.

What a coward.

The thought haunted him, and Michael sighed again, trying to clear the unwelcome thought form his mind. He pulled the car over to a stop and turned off the ignition. Glancing over at Laine, he noticed she was studying him with an uncharacteristic frown.

"You look unhappy." She stated, examining him, tightening her fingers on his, "What are you thinking?"

Michael hesitated, and then sighed, shaking his head. "It's nothing, really," he denied, "just stuff about work."

"Liar." She scowled, her eyes narrowing. Her full, rosebud lips slipped into a disarming pout and she crossed her arms over her breasts and turned her face away from him. The gesture made Michael smile—she looked like an incensed child as she ignored him!

Damn. His dick was hard again!

She smiled back at him suddenly, taking him by surprise, and Michael's eyes widened as her fingers reached up to undo her safety belt. Before he could protest, she had climbed on to his lap and wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders. A smile played on her lips as she shifted, so that she could feel his rock-hard erection against the thin fabric of her skirt.

"Stop..." Michael pleaded, as she gently rocked against him, rubbing herself against his painful cock in the most brutally tantalizing way... "Laine, please..." He begged, feeling his control slip further and further away as she stirred him.

Her fingers slipped between them and she worked his zipper down, freeing him to her touch. Before she could lower herself to take him her mouth, Michael seized her by her hair, keeping her upright against him. "Damn you," he growled, shaking her, "I told you 'no'!"

In answer, Laine lifted her blouse to reveal her breasts, the nipples flared and dark against the gold silk of her skin. She lifted her chin defiantly, proudly, and Michael glared at her, feeling rage curl within him. Without thinking, he shook her harder, and her mouth parted in surprise and pain.

"Why do you do this...every time...It never ends..." Michael hissed, anger making his blue eyes seem more grey than blue. "I told you, and yet here you are, doing the same damn thing."

Her eyes glared back at him, "and here you are, doing the same damn thing." She snapped back. "It's fucking old, Michael, and I'm starting to think you are, too. Maybe it's time to move on."

Michael's eyes widened, and he stared at her, stunned. What did she say? What was she saying? Fear, sudden, cold, and awful—began to writhe within him, and he stared at her, speechless.

Laine glared at him again, yanking her blouse back down and crossing her arms back over her breasts. "Maybe you're right, you really are too old for me and I need to find someone closer to my age."

Michael's eyes narrowed and he felt like slapping her as she gave him a small smirk. "Even if you don't want to, there are plenty of other opportunities." She continued, enjoying the look of outrage on his face.

"That fucking Staff Sergeant, the fucking mechanic?!?!" Michael accused, almost screaming, "Are you still seeing that asshole?!"

Laine shrugged non-committally, pausing to examine her carefully polished nails. "I think he'd fuck me in an instant." She declared.

A deep throb began somewhere behind Michael's left eye. A deep, red mist seemed to fill his vision and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. How could she, his mind screamed, Damn her to hell!

"...and he thinks I'm beautiful, why, just the other day, I caught him staring at my ass, and when I smiled at him he had the biggest hard on...maybe I ought to call him up after all and take him up on his offer to go eat me out—I mean, eat out..." Laine finished with a laugh.

Images of Laine in someone else's arms raced through Michael's darkening mind. He clutched his head as he imagined this boy—Kenneth, he believed, some young prick in their class—fucking her...claiming her...taking her from him. The images began to run together and Michael saw Laine laughing, holding hands with her new lover, walking down the aisle, having his babies...Rage boiled within him and Michael groaned, and without a thought, he slapped her with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling on the seat.

"Bastard!" Laine screamed her face paling before flushing with fury. She kicked at him viciously and Michael tried to seize her leg but she was too quick for him. She was out of the car in an instant, running through the sand, away from him.

Michael swore viciously and began to give chase, racing after her as she screamed in rage. "Bitch..." Michael yelled, "How could you do that to me?"

Laine tripped and went sprawling, but her dancer's legs were quick and she immediately jumped to her feet. Michael slapped her again, driving her to her knees. A thin line of blood trickled down her nose and she stared at him hatefully. "My father will kill you." She whispered.

The words drove the anger in his heart to an even higher level, and Michael felt the months of frustration collide within him. His cock was swollen and demanding and her fierce look made the decison for him. Mindless, blindly, he pushed her back into the dirt, pinning her hands when they rose to beat at him. He laughed manically as she swore at him, and viciously he forced his leg between hers, prying then open. "Spread your legs for me." He ordered, impatient as she continued to fight him, "Or I won't be gentle."

"Fuck you!" She shrieked.

Michael smiled and shoved her skirt up around her waist. Her golden thighs were shaking and her bare, newly shaved pussy looked small and vulnerable...another thought of that beautiful pussy being used by someone else passed through his mind. With one thrust, he was buried inside her.

"Ugggggg!" He yelled, ramming his fire-hot cock into her. Her pussy was dripping with wetness despite her screams, and Michael laughed as he tore away her blouse and fondled her aroused nipples. Her young body writhed beneath him in all its youthful glory, and her shrill screams seemed hollow as he worked her pussy, fucking her ruthlessly.

"You listen to me...you belong to me, you will always belong to me...this pussy is mine and no other's, I'll kill you, and him, if you ignore me, do you hear me..." Michael groaned the words into her ears, softening the words with a brief kiss on her neck. "I love you, Laine, I love you..." He groaned, almost to himself. "I won't let anyone else have you."

Michael groaned again as he pussy began to tighten around his cock. Her screams were now deep moans and she had wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her mouth nipped and bit at his lips, and she was shaking as he rode her. Michael closed his eyes and groaned deeply as he felt his cock spill deeply into her quivering pussy.

The Desert Heat around them was intense, and Michael shook, still deeply embedded within her. She was clutching him, kissing him, whispering words of love and reassurance. "I love you..." she whispered, tearfully, "I thought you knew that...I just wanted you to want me more, but this...this..." she shook her head and turned her face away, tears running down her cheeks.