A Universal Fucking

Sometimes if you put all your expectations of a night into the hope of getting with a particular person, the universe just might make a mockery of you and send a totally different person your way.

*Make sure you’ve read part one of this tale: Penetration of the Hawk Eyes for the full juicy context!

Having finally shattered Hawk Eyes glass house, I sassily pivot on my heel and strut back into the living room. One of the veteran Afrika Burners, Lanky, has just joined, he is fabulously sarcastic (an Australian trait I’m learning South Africans share) and damn sexy.

I confidently sit myself down next to him, he casually looks up, and acknowledges my arrival with an unreadable smile, then passes me a blunt*. After a game of Werewolf, Lanky turns his body to face me as our conversation becomes intimate. Engulfed in our own banter-world, I am unaware of the entire group heading to bed.

Finally realising that we are alone, the familiar shift in chemistry washes over us.
Is this going to happen? Just as the thought enters my brain a newcomer enters the stretchie and I feel a surge of disappointment that our intimacy has been spoilt. The newcomer approaches us jollily, then awkwardly halts; clearly recognising the sexual forcefield emanating around Lanky and I, he quickly makes an excuse and scurries off.

With that strange and telling interruption over, Lanky announces I’ve got chocolate in my container, do you want to come have some? HA! When growing up you are taught to absolutely NEVER follow someone that offers you candy, especially if they’re in a van… Well. Lanky doesn’t have a white van, but he does have a white shipping container.
I practically cartwheel in.

Let me try to illustrate what fucking LUXURY a shipping container home in the desert is: Instead of a 2×2 metre tent, it’s a whole fucking container (Zimbabawia and I’s tent doesn’t even fit our bags inside). It has a real double bed with blankets (not children’s sleeping bags), pillows (not a bag of clothes), a bedside table, and candles. It doesn’t move in the wind, doesn’t get affected by sandstorms, it retains heat from the day – making the freezing night forgotten, and YES… it has a suitcase filled with fucking chocolate.
Chemistry or not, I wanted this guy in my desert life.

While he rolls another blunt I get to choose the suitcase items! One blunt and two blocks of chocolate later, we are flirting furiously. I am a genuinely cold human, I’ve found over my sexual years that my need for warmth tends to increase my success rate in the sack*… Feeling chilly, I get myself under the covers, he joins me and our legs quickly entangle. Legs become chests, chests become faces, and the make-out begins.

Have you ever been with someone who completely transforms in the sack?

As soon as Lanky’s tongue enters my mouth he morphs into a horny moungral. He attacks my clothes discarding my layers around the container. Once the offending garments are dispersed, he descends my pussy like a labrador at a BBQ. I am so taken aback by this changed human that I’m calling out: Laannnnnkkkkyyyy!?!? in a mixture of shock and pleasure. Surely containers are sound proof? Oh well, the wild woman cannot be contained.

Just reaching clitoral orgasm I am eager to return the oral pleasure, bowing down I’m almost knocked out by his cock. The thing is HUGE, so huge that I quickly touch the circumference of my mouth assessing whether it will fit? Starting slowly I lick the giant lollipop, rubbing my mouth and face all over it. I do suck on it a bit, but taking it all in is genuinely beyond my mouth’s abilities.
I’m beginning to wonder how the hell my yoni will manage…

We slide the XL condom over his XL member, then he leans over and blows out the candles. We are plunged into total darkness – shipping containers having absolutely no natural light so I can’t see my hand in front of my face, let alone the giant latexed beast that’s meant to be entering my cosy cave.

I fumble around in the dark laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and accidentally poke my finger into his eye. Shouldn’t we… like maybe leave the candles on so we can see what’s happening?
Nah we got this.

Apparently Lanky and his lanky cock have a sixth sense for finding caves in the dark. He guides me onto my back and lowers himself into me. I am tense, anticipating his girth, but he is clearly aware of his own size as he gently eases himself back and forth, allowing me time to expand.

Once I’m wet n’ wild, I climb on top of him and start riding his invisible figure. I literally cannot see a thing, I might as well be fucking the universe. Something about the bizarreness of not seeing each other sets me off and I piss myself laughing while I’m joy riding the unseeable. Apparently wanting me to be more serious about the matter he flips me onto my stomach and takes me from behind. I shove my face into the pillows and scream as my pussy engulfs him, and then he collapses on top of me.

Still blind Lanky asks Will you stay?
If that’s okay?
He answers by reaching out and pulling me into a vice-grip-snuggle.

Naked, blind, and nestled into the arms of a different man than I had anticipated, I sleep my best nights sleep in the desert, wondering how little the universe cares about our plans.

*Australianisms:
Blunt -a rolled marijuana cigarette. Also known as joint, doobie, spliff

Sack – bed. “I’m real freaky in the sack”, “I’m hitting the sack” (Not sure why punching the bed means I’m going to bed, but it does #straya)

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Artwork by Unknown Artist

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