Mistress of Desire

I'm not sure how the average person deals with a bad break-up, but my idea was to head out to Death Valley for a week. I figured the solitude would do me good, and I had a week off work to kill anyway.

I'd never been before, and was blown away by just how stunning the place was. I traversed slot canyons caused by flash floods over the eons, clambered up endless sand dunes, found hidden salt springs, and stood at the lowest elevation in North America.

It was the middle of February, temperatures were low, and an unrelenting wind did not let up for the duration of my stay. I spent my nights in my tent or car, and the few hours I slept amounted to the only time I wasn't being blasted by the harsh desert sands.

For as much as I appreciated the reprieve from the sand and wind I got in my sleep, these were the loneliest moments of the trip. Nights spent alone are surely the most difficult part of any breakup. I missed feeling my partner's breath on my back, the feel of my hand caressing her warm thigh, her gentle stroking of my hair, and those special occasions when I'd wake up to the sensation of her lips tenderly sucking to my penis.

Also, the nights were frigid. I'd gotten so used to my partner's body heat, and I yet adjusted to having to generate my own warmth. By the end of my week in the desert I was longing for nothing more than a hot bath, and while a traditional bath tub wasn't an option, a friend had told me about a hot spring oasis on the outskirts of some Mojave Desert town.

After some time spent pouring over a map and trying to decipher my friend's directions, I began to make my way towards the town of Tecopa, home to some of the more accessible hot springs in the vicinity of Death Valley.

The drive out there was a trip in both a literal and figurative sense, and I was able to count on one hand the amount of other cars I saw on the road. Unfortunately one of these cars was parked on the side of the highway near Tecopa Hot Springs, which meant I wouldn't quite have the springs to myself.

From the highway to the hot springs was no more than a three minute walk on an alkali flat lined by riparian sedge. To my surprise the hot springs weren't some small pool created by a pipe and strategically stacked rocks like so many others, but rather a ten foot wide creek of steaming water that looked to be at least waist deep in the shallows.

Only one other person was bathing, so I was able to strip down and find solitude in a particularly warm bend in the creek. I soaked for hours, losing all track of time in the steamy oasis, and left only when night began to fall.

After a minimal amount of searching, I found a good camping spot about ten miles away from the springs down a seldom-traveled dirt road. Without much in the way of entertainment, I hit the hay early, and felt plenty rested when my internal alarm clock woke me prior to sunrise. Although the plan was to drive eight hours back home that day, I couldn't resist taking one last dip in the hot springs on such a frosty morning.

I got to the springs just as the sun was cresting the Nopah Range to the East, and was thrilled to see there were no cars on the side of the road. While the crowd had never ballooned to more than five people the evening prior, there hadn't been a moment when I'd had the place entirely to myself.

I made the short pilgrimage to the springs, and was surprised to see that next to the hottest and deepest part of the creek there lie a discarded pizza box, beer cans, and what appeared to be a large bundle of blankets. I lamented that a person would trash the springs like that before I grabbed a morning beer of my own, and slipped into the inviting water.

I must've been soaking for at least twenty minutes before I became aware that the pile of blankets was in fact a person. It was the occasional grunt that gave it away. While camping at the hot springs was illegal, I did respect that this person's solution to making it through the near-freezing night was to lie out in the warm mud of Tecopa Hot Springs with a blanket covering their head.

Not long after the grunting began, a person rolled out of the heap of blankets, and without bothering to even open their eyes or sit up, rolled right into the hot springs. It was hands down the best way I've ever seen a person begin their day.

Like me the person was naked, and I was more than a little excited to discover the person was a woman. She was the first nude lady I'd seen since my break-up, and she couldn't have looked any more different than my ex. While my ex was petite and pale, this woman was rather large, and had a deep desert tan.

She wasn't my type in that I'd never been with a woman that looked like her, but I definitely found myself intrigued by her body. She was very much an amazon with humongous, dangling breasts and wide hips. She appeared to be the same height as me. While she had the typical rough, sun-drenched look of a person that's lived a long life in the desert, she also had plenty of soft features. I was particularly drawn to her silken, pursed lips that looked capable of providing an incredible amount of pleasure.

As far as I could tell she looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, making her twenty years my senior. And while I didn't get a good look at her ring finger, the fact that she was sleeping by her lonesome surrounded by beer cans told me that she was most likely single.

After rolling into the springs she had managed to stand up with her large breast floating on the water's surface, but hadn't opened her eyes. She stayed in this meditative state for about five minutes while I sipped my beer and stole the occasional glance at her tremendous tits.

When she did finally snap out of her trance, she noticed me sitting across from her with a beer in hand, and said, "Now there's a man that knows how to live."

I laughed. "Shit, I was thinking the same thing about you."

We hit it off from the get-go, but not in a sexaully charged manner by any means. While I found her body fascinating, and thought she just oozed sexaultiy, I was nonetheless not so open-minded about being with a woman that was that much older than me, not to mention larger. Maybe it was this lack of sexual tension that made conversation come so easy.

It didn't take me long to discover that her body was far from the only thing that made her fascinating. She was very much into hippy-dippy topics like the healing power of crystals, but also went on a rant about the government needing to stay the fuck away from her guns. I've found this a somewhat common attitude in the Mojave Desert, and like so many other desert rats I'd met over the years, she had an extensive knowledge of the land and all its secrets.

She was impossible not to like, and as a cherry on top she had a supreme amount of confidence in her body, and no qualms about exposing it. While I more or less soaked with my privates below the water line, she would sit on the edge of the creeks with legs spread wide, or stretch so that her breasts heaved in the early morning breeze. But perhaps best of all, there were several times when she bent over gratuitously, exposing her huge, sexy ass, a sight made even sweeter by a well-defined thong bikini tan line.

It was amazing to me how confident she was in her own skin. She was far from society's ideal of "sexiness", but she carried herself as though she were a total bombshell. At one point I offered her a beer, and while I was prepared to just get it for her, she insisted on swimming across the creek to get it herself. To reach my backpack on the shore, she had to bend over, and she had zero shame about sticking her big ass in the air, mere inches from my face. Up close I noticed a heart tattoo on her left butt cheek with the words "Mistress of Desire" inscribed inside.

I grew erect under the water, and if she noticed, she didn't say anything. Knowing how open and confident she was in her body and beliefs, I had few qualms about asking her the things I wanted to know. Right after she put her provocative ass in my face, I said, "That's quite the tan line you have there."

She laughed. "I know, right? Obviously I prefer to swim nude, but if I have to have a bikini, I prefer having as little coverage as possible. I don't mind the tan lines though, I think they look kinda sexy."

I blushed. "I agree," I replied meekly. "It's a good look."

She smiled. "Well, thanks for saying so!"

"Uh, yeah, no problem," I stammered. "I'm a little confused though, when would you ever need to cover up out here?"

"Well, not here at the springs, obviously. More like at a public pool, or in the rare times I head out to the coast. I know the manager over at the Shoshone Inn. He lets me use the pool whenever I want. He says no nudity, but thongs are okay. Not like there's really much of a difference. He's kind of a perv and enjoys the show."

"I'd imagine so."

"Yeah, but you definitely get some negative vibes, too. Not everyone's used to seeing a full-figured woman like me in a tiny bikini, and wives are never too keen on seeing their man checking out someone else. Women have said some pretty nasty shit to me, but whatcha gonna do?"

"That shit drives me nuts. It's just the human body, you know?"

She nodded in agreement. "So, you're not shy about your body?"

"Nah. I'm sitting here naked, aren't I?"

"True, but you've kept yourself submerged the entire time. I've barely seen anything below your nipples," she said laughing.

I turned bright red. "I'm just enjoying the water, that's all, I have no problem being..."

She interrupted me. "No, no, I meant nothing by it. I was just joking around."

Feeling very embarrassed I said, "I know, but it's not like I actually do mind. I'm pretty happy with my body."

"I'm sure you are honey, everything from the nipples up looks great."

We shared a laugh, then changed the subject. Conversation continued to come naturally, but after our brief discussion about bodies, there was definitely more sexual tension in the air. I got around to learning that the woman's name was Molly, and wishing to show her my dick, I rose out of the water for a minute. But if she was intrigued, she didn't show it.

While we were talking, Molly kept absentmindedly rubbing mud from the hot spring all over her glorious, nude body. It was really quite arousing, watching her lather it on her huge breasts and ass, giving me a free show. Eventually I asked her about his habit, and she gave me a full synopsis of the mud's healing power.

"People come from hundreds of miles away to gather this stuff," she began. "That's why the banks of the creek are so badly undercut; people literally haul it away in barrels. Pisses me off. Take only what you really need, you know?"

"So what's so special about it?" I asked.

"Well for starters, it's great for your skin. Especially for us desert folk that are out in the sun all day, the mud's essential for keeping away wrinkles and sun damage. But it runs much deeper than that. It will revitalize your soul. Think about all the energy that's stored in this mud. All the energy of the sun is captured in it. All this energy bubbling up from the earth is captured in it too. The energy's been building for thousands of years, back to when this desert held actual seas. When you rub the mud in deep, deep, deep, that energy is transferred to you."

I was in no mood to debate this theory, so I nodded in agreement. "That's pretty wild. I need to make sure to give myself a mud bath before taking off."

Molly smiled. "I can help with that if you'd like," she said.

I felt a surge of energy come through me. "How so?" I asked.

"I used to be a massage therapist. Not exactly licensed, but on the down low. This mud was my secret ingredient. My clients would always leave feeling absolutely radiant."

"Yeah? A mud massage sounds pretty nice, actually?"

"I can give you one if you'd like. Free of charge...or maybe for another beer anyway."

"Hmm..." I stammered, not knowing exactly what I should do.

"Don't feel pressured to accept or anything," Molly butt in. "I understand what an intimate experience a massage can be, and it might seem a little weird getting rubbed down by a naked stranger. Might be a good way to relax, though, and help you take your mind off your ex."

I only had to think it over briefly. "Fuck it, why not?"

Molly lit up like a light bulb. "Great! I was hoping you'd say that. This will be fun."

To begin the massage she had me sit on the edge of the creek, keeping just my legs in the warm water below. She sat right behind me wrapping her body so close that I could feel her bush against my tailbone, and her heaving breasts against my back. From this position she cupped some water in her hands, and let it trickle down my back. She repeated this process multiple times, making sure to cover almost every part of my body with warm water.

I say almost because she didn't touch my cock or balls, although she had no qualms about working her hands over my thighs. I was grateful for this because even though the sun was out and it was beginning to heat up, it was still quite chilly sitting mostly exposed in the late February winds.

Also, it helped matters that Molly was whispering in my ear the entire time, putting me in a trance-like state. "Feel the water of ages," she whispered. "Let it caress you. Let it ensconce you. Flow with the current. Submit to it."

It wasn't so much the words she used, but the way she said it, almost perfectly matching the timbre and rhythm of running water. As she scooped up some mud and rubbed it deep into the pores of my shoulders, her sweet words continued. "Feel the mud run," she began. "The mud of our fathers, and our fathers' fathers. Centuries of energy now become you. Let it soothe your heavy burden. Your shoulders, your shoulders that carry your worries. Your broad shoulders that represent that for which you toil. Let the mud absorb these troubles. Let your burdens be carried away in the current, to wander aimlessly through the desert playa."

She dug her thumbs deeper into my shoulder blades and down my spine. "I love your powerful shoulders and back. This is the back of a real man," she cooed in my ear. "You toil and toil, and I can feel your burden in your big, strong muscles. Let me be your mistress of desire. Let me take your troubles off your powerful back, and gift them to the desert."

As much as it sounds like gibberish as I put it into writing, her words hypnotized me, and put me on that fine line between dreams and reality. And everytime she moved to a new part of my body, she had a new description. I lost complete track of time as she dug the mud into my lower back, arms, and chest, and only began to come out of the hypnosis as her hands worked over my abs, getting closer and closer to my penis.

"What a nice body you have," she said as her fingers worked over my well-toned abdominal muscles. "Your abs are like the transverse ranges of the Mojave. Let me explore them. Let my fingers descend their hidden canyons. Succumb to the sensuality of raw, unseen lands. Feel the flow of mud. Succumb. Invite my hands to explore deeper...deeper...deeper."

While she chanted this her hands explored further down my body, following my happy trail to my pubic mound, where let her hands run through my tangle of curly hair. "On the edge of the desert a forest grows," she hushed, causing me to let out a chuckle.

She didn't play with my pubes for very long before scooping up a copious amount of mud, and letting her hands caress my thighs. Beginning from my knees, she worked her way up until her fingers were just inches from my penis. Up to that point my dick had been pretty flaccid due to exposure to the frigid morning air, but with this cue it began to grow. Considering her choice of metaphors, I'm sure Molly took note. "The snake emerges from the forest," she sang. "It grows hungry, and swells with the anticipation of quelling its appetite. Let it roam free and grow bigger, stronger. Let it receive the pleasure it desires and deserves. Let it be cherished and admired."

While uttering this mantra, Molly simultaneously washed the mud from my legs, once again working from the knees up. But this time when she got to my upper thighs, she casually let the back of her hand run the length of my penis a few times, causing me to grow fully erect. The way she acted she made it seem unintentional, but I think she knew very well what she was doing.

Once my legs were entirely free of mud, she formed a pitcher with both hands held together, dipped them in the water, and let them hover over my penis. "Let me be your mistress of desire," she said as she let the water drip slowly down my hardness. "I exist to serve you, to bring you indescribable bliss. My body is open to you, just as your body is open to me. Embrace your masculinity. Embrace your big, powerful manood, and let me embrace it in return."

As the very last drop of water made its way down my thickness, Molly firmly gripped my cock from the base. In a twisting motion, she slowly let her hand run its length, stopping only after my completely engorged mushroom tip was pressed in her fingers. "Come bathe with me," she said, leading me by my cock back into the waist-deep shallows of the hot springs.

Once in the water, she took her hand off my thickness, and trickled her fingers all over my body. Feeling almost like some sap getting a lap dance, I wasn't sure what to do with my hands, and opted to keep them fastened to my sides. This caused Molly to chuckle, essentially breaking character for the first time since the massage had begun. "Remember, the whole point of this is to relax," she said. "I want you to be comfortable, and to do anything that makes you feel comfortable. You can explore my body if you'd like. I'd enjoy that very much."

"Okay," I murmured, allowing my hands to make their way over her shoulders and arms, and down to the small of her back.

"That's nice, but I was thinking more like this," she said as she took my hands in hers and planted them on her voluptuous ass. "Be as gentle or rough as you'd like with it."

On cue I grabbed fitsfuls of her flesh, and kneaded it, physically expressing my desire to ravage her. Then catching me off guard, Molly bit fiercely into my neck. But after this initial jolt, she softened her kisses, and let her lips blaze a trail up the nape of my neck to my ear, which she treated to playful licks and nibbles. Meanwhile her hand had started exploring my nether regions, until her fingers were tenderly embracing my balls, squeezing them as though she were juicing a lemon.

She kept this up for a minute or two while my hands probed her entire ass. Just when I was feeling like all the cum in balls was ready to burst out, Molly took her hand off me, and directed me towards the edge of the creek. The spot she led me to evidently hadn't eroded as much as the other parts of the hot spring, and there was a natural rock and sod bench covered by just a few inches of water.

Molly had me kneel down on the natural bench, and bend over so that my torso was sprawled out on the wet mud on the creek's edge. While she'd somewhat stopped playing the part of desert mystic while we were frolicking in the water, the moment she began to massage me again in earnest her hypnotic chants and mantras returned.

"Be one with the mud. Feel it become you. Feel it's memories and embrace them," she murmured as she lay her body on top of mine.

Shen then slid her body down mine, pressing her impossibly large breasts into my back. From there she scooped up more mud, and caked it on even thicker than before. Adding warm spring water to the mix, she lathered the mud into my skin, eventually working her way down to my buttocks. Being in that bent over, prone position I wasn't quite in the same dream-like state I'd been in earlier, but I was still experiencing a level of ecstasy that had previously been unknown in my life.