Then, abruptly, the backward motion of his cock reversed. When I felt his prick surge anew, I knew only one thing could be happening. He was getting ready to come! My heart leaped as I braced myself for the onslaught.
Incredibly, it wasn't the wetness I noticed first when he shot off. It was the odor. I remembered what Prospectin' Charlie had said about mule-cum stinking worse than a skunk. Well, if this was the way skunks smelled, I was going to try and find one the next time I was horny and just get off on the scent alone. Maybe something about being sterile makes a mule's cum smell different. I don't know. What I do know was that inhaling it was like taking a whiff of horseradish, airplane glue and Chanel No. 5 all at once, a pungency that went whistling through my sinuses.
My senses reeling from Hector's cum-stench, the male wetness in my cunt made itself obvious and then started to overwhelm me. Maybe it's a good thing mules are sterile. The way they just keep on coming, if their sperm was any good, pretty soon the world would be populated by nothing but jackasses.
Spurt after spurt of thick mule-juice splatted against my engorged cunt-walls, swamping my insides. When my pussy could hold no more, the hot cream started oozing out of the tightness where the girth of his shaft pumped between my taut cunt-lips. Hot jizz streamed down the backs and insides of my legs. It bubbled all the way up my ass, and saturated my pussy hair, turning my crotch into a foaming mess.
I should have felt totally humiliated. So ashamed that I wanted to just crawl off in the desert and die. How could I have been so turned on in such a disgusting situation? But I was… Oh, God, was I!
I should have been wondering if I could ever face my husband again after what I'd done. But, instead, all I was wondering about was how long it was going to take Prospectin' Charlie to get his act together and start coming in my mouth. My belly ached for his fuck-juice.
Hopelessly degraded, I should have yearned for some miracle to put me out of my misery. But the only emotion I felt was pure, unadulterated greed… greed for a second load of hot, steaming cum.
I doubled my fingers in Prospectin' Charlie's ass, forming an abrasive knot that gouged his sensitive tissues. Twisting the knot, I applied the pressure, grinding through the tissue against his prostate gland so his balls could not resist turning themselves inside out and coming would be a blessed certainty.
When his cock jumped, I pulled my fingers out with a pop. It was like puffing the cork out of a bottle of warm champagne. The cum instantaneously shot from his prick. It gushed down my throat like I was sucking on a fire hose. Instantly my stomach was full of it, spurt after spurt flowing down my gullet.
In my cunt the mule had finally stopped spurting. His cock slid around in a swamp of its own goo. I reached behind me and grabbed his prick, pulling it out and letting it rest wetly in the furrow of my ass. The head dribbled sperm on my back. Moving up and down I could feel the loose foreskin rubbing back and forth, the cheeks of my ass pinching his shaft and gently jacking him off.
My gaping pussy unleashed a steady flow of fuck-cream to the sand beneath me. Most of it was Hector's cum, but a lot of it was my own musky flow. I was coming so hard that my pussy-mouth choked and spewed like it was throwing up. Except, instead of vomit, it was pouring forth the sticky goo of fucking.
Above, Prospectin' Charlie's cock finally gave out, blasting its last bolt of hot in and then collapsing from its noble effort. I gobbled all the way down on it one last time and then let it slide from my mouth, smacking my lips from the feast.
With both pricks out of me, my own coming passed its peak and gradually diminished. Bathed in the dreamy afterglow of fucking, I sat in the sand, feeling the wet mule-cock slide limply off me. The animal keeled over on his side and just lay there with his enormous brown eyes rolling, panting, his long red tongue lolling out of his mouth.
I could feel the sand sticking to the cum and grinding away at my ass and pussy again, but I didn't care. The hot sun beat down on my unprotected naked flesh, but that didn't bother me either. My sweat mingled with the sperm all over my body, making me feel like I was coated with slime. I felt dirty and sloppy and grimy and thoroughly and perfectly fucked.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gradually the afterglow of fucking wore off. After a nap, I woke up, completely coated between my legs and on one side of my body with sand. As I plunged my hand between my legs to quell the monstrous pussy-itch from the gritting grains of sand, I realized that the thrill was gone. No longer horny, I was just plain miserable.
And scared.
Just as lost as I ever was. And as fat away from home. I looked around at the desolate landscape. During my orgasmic excitement it had seemed like splendor. In the harsh light of fuckless reality it was a hot, unyielding desert, as forbidding as the terrain of an alien planet.
The dozing miner and his mule didn't improve the view. In the harsh light of reality, with his cock shrunken to a shriveled root, coated with sand, Prospectin' Charlie was just a scroungy old goat. Snoring into the sand, he looked like an old wino sleeping off a pint of Thunderbird. And Hector was a flea-bitten bag of guts, his cock buried in the sand.
I could have taken Hector, I suppose, and ridden him until I found the highway. But I was afraid he couldn't stand a rider, he seemed so exhausted from fucking me.
Besides, that would have condemned Prospectin' Charlie to certain death. I was young and strong and might be able to make it on my own. But, except for his cock, he was old and tired… and he couldn't walk out of the desert on his cock. Prospectin' Charlie had brutally taken advantage of me, but he had also saved my life. I owed him as much in return.
Instead I took his gun. This desert was a treacherous place. Then was no telling who or what I might run into out here. My paranoia was running wild after my experiences so far.
Also, I took a hat. The one off the mule's head. I figured he could survive easier without it than Prospectin' Charlie could without his. Hector's hat looked ridiculous on me with its two big holes for the animal's cars, but at least its brim kept the sun off my face and tits.
I trekked nakedly through the sand, using the rifle as a kind of crutch when the going got rough. I still didn't know which way I was going. Then I realized that I was heading east, purposely walking with the sun at my back so it wouldn't burn out my eyes. East. East. Was it leading any place?
The thought began to haunt me that I was headed the wrong way. The doubt burned into my brain as bitingly as the hot sun. I turned around 180 degrees and faced the way I had been coming. The sun dropping in the west blazed in my eyes like a fiery hole in the universe.
"No, no," I sobbed, "I can't go back! I just can't do it!"
I dropped to the ground, throwing the gun aside and beating the sand with my fists.
But when my tantrum was over, I was still in the same place, just as hot and miserable and lost as ever. Turning east again, I crawled forward, dragging the gun along behind me.
If I hadn't had the liquid from the waterhole and Prospectin' Charlie's cum, I'd have perished before the day was out. As it was, I was still moving forward by the time the sun went down. As darkness fell, I gave in to fatigue for the second time in twenty-four hours on the desert, sleeping once again in a bed of binding sand. This time there were no dreams, just the bleary fog of exhaustion.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I awoke, it was still dark. Night in the desert was even spookier than the daytime. You could see forever in the dark sky. The universe seemed expanded by a billion times when I saw it in the clear desert air, the black sky infinitely dotted by twinkling stars.
I lay on my back, looking up at the sky, trying to decide what to do next. The stars were mesmerizing, their attraction constantly riddling my thoughts so I got nowhere with my plans.