The Oasis 2

Michel reached the edge of the desert, with the gendarmes less than a day behind. His only hope of escape was to cross the Desert of Frustration. He made a few discrete inquiries, and was consistently told that there was only one man to see for transportation across the desert: The Vagabond.

He located The Vagabond's tent. Before Michel could say more than "Bonjour," the Vagabond spoke:

"I assume you wish to cross the Desert."

Michel replied, "That is correct."

"I have one camel who is ready to go. The fee of 10,000 Francs (or should I say Euro, to make it more modern?) will get you across to the other side, including a stop for refreshment at the oasis. The camel knows the way. He will carry you directly to the oasis, and, when you are refreshed, on to Sodomorrah on the other side. You will receive packs with enough food and water. For this payment, you will receive everything that you need to make it across."

Michel had no choice. Without a word, he began to peel bills from the roll in his pocket. He handed the money to The Vagabond.

"Only one word of caution," added the merchant. "The sun in this area has a very unusual effect. As I said, I will supply enough food and water. The camel knows the way. But, there is one very great danger.'

He paused, giving his customer an odd smile. "I expect that you will, cough, experience a powerful need for sexual release. If you decide to, ahem, relieve yourself, you will not make it across. That is, of course, all the same to me. If you do not heed my warning, the sun will finish you off, and my camel will return to me. Indeed, he will then return to me sooner and be able to earn another fee. There will, of course, be no refund."

Michel set out immediately. His camel was strong, tall and healthy. On either side, it carried distinctive blue cloths with the logo of "The Vagabond."

At first, he found the journey remarkably relaxing. The camel seat was surprisingly comfortable. The camel seemed to know exactly which way to go, and he moved forward at a steady pace. While the sun beat down on him, his head was sheltered and he was well supplied. The bags at the sides of the saddle and behind were well stocked with food and water.

As the uneventful journey continued, Michel found his thought turning to sex. He did not find this to be particularly remarkable. He was, after all, alone and somewhat bored. There was little scenery: just miles of rolling sand. Occasionally, he would be passed by an empty camel, heading in the opposite direction, apparently returning to its owner.

When night fell, the camel walked to a sheltered ravine, filled with grasses and a few small bushes. Michel ate a small supper. The camel found some grasses to graze on and a small water hole. Michel wrapped himself into his blanket and closed his eyes to sleep. Before he could drift off, he found his hand moving toward his sex. He began to caress it, when the words of The Vagabond came back to him. "That's silly" he told himself. Nevertheless, he lost the urge. He rolled over and slept the night. The next day, as he resumed his journey, the sun seemed stronger than ever. However, Michel did not feel hungry, weak or tired. Instead, he felt sexually aroused. Images of the bodies of women he had known filled his consciousness. The more he traveled, the stronger the sun became and the more his mind was filled with images of sex.

There was nothing to distract him from his growing sexual arousal. The only break in the monotony was the occasional passage of a camel, passing on its way back to The Vagabond. He felt his member growing longer and harder. He could not resist caressing and rubbing it, but the movement of the camel and his position on its seat prevented him from getting a good handle on it. Nevertheless, when his hand touched his hardness, The Vagabond's warning came back to him. He laughed to himself, scoffing, but he was a little disconcerted by the strength of his arousal. He could not remember ever feeling so obsessed by sex when no one was around.

Then he saw it. A glimpse of naked flesh, off in the distance, straight ahead. As the camel moved closer, he could see more clearly. It was a woman! A beautiful, young, naked woman, lying in the sand, waiting for him. The closer he got the more clearly he could see her beauty. Her long dark hair. He full round breasts, heaving and she breathed, waiting for him. The smoothness of her thighs. The dark curls of her pubic hair. Her legs spread, waiting for him.

When the woman was only 100 yards or so away, Michel became impatient with the camel's steady pace. He leaped from the seat and ran toward the image of beauty before him, tossing his caftan aside as he ran. She was only a few feet away, when she suddenly shimmered out of sight. She was, indeed, only an image, an illusion, a mirage. Not a mirage of water, but a mirage of desire.

He stood stupidly, naked, staring at the spot on the sand where, moments before, he had seen an image of desire. His erection stood out in front of him, remaining completely hard, despite the sudden disappointment. He wrapped his hand around it, ready to pound away with reckless abandon, craving release.

Then, at the edge of a dune just a few yards farther ahead, he again caught sight of an image of naked flesh. This time, it seemed more distinct somehow. He saw a naked him and buttock. Taking his hand from his shaft, he walked slowly forward. To his disappointment, he saw the naked, hairy backside of a man. He had never been aroused by a man, but Michel felt so horny he thought he could fuck the man up the ass.

He walked closer. There was no movement from the man. There was no sign of a camel or an encampment. What could this man be doing here, alone, in the middle of the desert. In the shifting, sand, Michel could make out the faintest trace of camel tracks heading away from the silent form, back the way he had come. Michel remembered his camel. He looked back. The camel was there, several feet behind him, watching.

Michel approached the figure lying on the ground. There was still no movement. Michel walked quietly around, until the front of the naked man came into view. What Michel saw finally caused his erection to shrivel. The man's eyes were wide open, staring. His jaw hung loosely. He was just beginning to develop a gray tinge to his skin.

But this was not what caused Michel to shudder and go limp. He had seen death before. Michel broke out into a cold sweat, in spite of the heat of the sun, because of what he saw when he looked lower down the man's body. He saw the man's hand gripped around what was now a flacid organ. The words of the Vagabond came back to him again, clearly. "If you decide to relieve yourself, you will not make it across. If you do not heed my warning, the sun will finish you off, and my camel will return to me. There will be no refund." The man lying in the sand had not heeded the Vagabond's warning. Michel remembered the camels he had passed on the way. How many men had died in this desert with their dicks in their hands?

Michel turned around and saw his camel calmly staring at him, chewing, waiting for him. He raced back to the camel, gathering up his clothes as he ran. He clambered back up into the seat, and the camel resumed his methodical, steady pace. For several minutes, Michel could not stop shaking.

By the time they had been on the road for an hour or so, he had again been warmed by the sun, and he again felt his manhood begin to grow. He could not believe it. He had just seen a man who had been killed by horniness, and Michel was again becoming aroused. His mind again began to fill with images of naked women. Women he had known. Women he had passed on the street. Women he had seen on television. Naked women dancing, writhing, smiling at him.

His cock was stiff. Standing up straight. Demanding attention. The images of naked women beckoned to him, reaching out toward his throbbing sex. He felt a hand on his hardness. With a gasp, he realized that it was his own hand. For a brief moment, the naked women were blocked out by the memory of the body in the sand. Still, his erection did not subside.

The sun continued to beat down. Again, his mind filled with pictures of women: women bending down and offering their treasures to him. Women caressing themselves. All afternoon, he was surrounded by women who lusted after him, who desparately wanted to feel the hardness that was a constant presence between his legs. He thought of the Levitra advertisement. He must have been like this for much more than four hours. He needed to seek medical attention. There was no relief.

When the sun went down, the images began to fade from his mind, but the hardness between his legs did not subside. Again, his camel led him to a sheltered spot. He tried to eat a bit, but the longing in his loins was much more powerful than his hunger. He tried to sleep, but all he could think of was the man, lying in the sand with his hand on his member. Finally, he drifted off, only to dream of his first sexual experience. The dream was so vivid. He was experiencing his sexual discovery again. As he prepared to enter to, to enter a woman for the first time, he awoke to discovery that he had plunged his staff into the sand while he slept. He wondered if a wet dream would be as fatal as masturbation. He slept no more that night.

The next morning, he ate only a few pieces of fruit, and mounted his camel while the sun was still rising. While his erection remained with him, his mind seemed clearer. Until the sun began to beat down on him. Sexual images again began to flood his mind. No longer did he see images of women beckoning and inviting him. Now, his mind was filled with pictures of sexual acts. Men and women copulating and engaging in oral sex. The landscape was an endless orgy, traveling with him. HIs cock throbbed. His balls ached. When the sun reached its zenith, his mind's eye was filled with images of huge penises, thrusting in and out of equally large vaginas. Soft mouths engulfing gigantic erections. Huge tongues flicking over engorged clitorises. There were no longer any bodies, only the sexual parts, coming together.

In the distance, he thought he saw a gleaming white tower, with a rounded top. What new torture was approaching? He did not know how much longer he could restrain his hand. The gleaming white tower grew larger. The camel seemed to be walking steadily toward it. He tried to clear his mind of the body parts thrusting together and focus on this new illusion. What kind of mirage was this. The tower looked so real. It looked like marble. It loomed larger and larger. As they approached, he saw that there appeared to be two smaller, rounded buildings behind the tower, one on either side. It looked so real.

The camel continued to walk directly toward the tower. He could see the outline of individual blocks of marble. The camel walked within a few feet of it. It looked so real. He heard a grinding sound, and a door slid open, directly in front of him. It was dark inside, but there seemed to be a figure inside.

The camel stopped, just in front of the door. Michel slid out of the chair onto the ground. His erection bobbed up and down in front of him. His balls pulsated with pain. He stood on the ground and peered in through the doorway, barely aware of the protuberance in front of him, pointing directly into the doorway. Michel heard a rustling. The figure stepped through the doorway into the sunlight.

Michel saw a short, sturdy, black-skinned woman. She was dressed in a flowing red robe, with a red turban on her head. Her brown eyes were warm, and she smiled kindly at him.

"Bien Venue," said the woman in red. "I am so pleased that you have made it. So few do. Please do come in. Welcome to the Oasis Lickadick."

She held out her hand to him, and gently led him through the doorway. He walked awkwardly, because of the stiffness of his erection and the aching in his balls, but he felt reassured. Her deep voice inspired a sense of comfort. Her eyes were deep pools of confidence and wisdom. Her full lips smiled at him, offering encouragement.

It was dark and cool inside the tower. The aching in his testicles eased a bit when he got out of the sun, but there was no change in the hardness of his manhood. The room was lit by candles. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that a table with a single chair was set in the middle of the room. The surface was covered with a variety of small dishes: stuffed grape leaves, olives, fruit, bread, and various spreads. A glass of white wine waited in front of the chair.

"I,... its not really food that I need right now," he told her.

She gently guided him to the chair. "You will need your strength," she replied. Michel took the seat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable due to the pressure in his groin. "I will be back in a half hour," the lady in red told him, as she disappeared through a door on the other side of the room.

Michel looked at the food. He tasted an olive, and he thought it was the best he had ever tasted. He began to sample the food, finding it all to be exquisite and discovering that he was hungrier than he had realized. He sipped the cool wine, finding that it did help to make him feel more relaxed. Nothing, however, relaxed his erection.

The door across the room opened, and the lady in red held out her hand, beckoning toward him. He got up and joined her at the doorway. The next room was also lit by candles. He saw a tub filled with water in the middle of the room. The lady took his hand and guided him to the waiting water. Unselfconsciously, she removed his caftan and slid off his underwear, leaving his penis standing out, exposed in front of him. Her hands gently caressed his skin as she was removing his clothing, but she never touched that organ which had been the center of his consciousness for three days.

Taking his hand again, she guided him over the side of the tub and into the water. Stepping in, he found that the water was just a few degrees cooler than his body. He settled down and, accepting her guidance, leaned back. The water further eased the aching of his balls, but his penis was still completely engorged. With him sitting in water, just the mushroom tip bobbed above the surface of the water.

She began to shampoo his hair, massage his scalp, and gradually wash his face, arms, shoulders and neck. Her touch was firm, soothing, comforting. Yet he was impatient for her to reach the part of his body which demanded so much attention. As she reached from behind him to wash his chest, she whispered in her low, deep voice, "You will still have to wait three hours before you achieve the release that you so crave. In that time, you will have to trust me to perform the procedures that will give you the strength you need to complete your trip across the desert. If you do as I say, you will be safe. However, if you have an ejaculation before I tell you that the time has arrived, you will not have the strength to complete your journey."

Michel heard her words, he trusted the sound of her voice, but the meaning barely penetrated. She continued, "The first thing you need to do is to learn to breath as I instruct you. With each breath in, you must expand your stomach and fill your lungs deeply." She put her hand on his stomach. "Breath in. No, fill your stomach. Press it against my hand." He tried again. "That's better. Now breath out completely." She pushed his stomach down as he exhaled. "Now continue to push against my hand when you inhale. That's it. Now squeeze all the air out. Good. Keep practicing while I continue to wash you."

She stood up and went to the other end of the tub. She washed his feet, his ankles, his shins and his knees, occasionally reminding him to breath "from your stomach." As she washed his thighs, she told him, "Okay, I have your next instruction. This is very important. The breathing will help you concentrate on this. You must pay very close attention to your ejaculation feelings. You know how it feels when you are going to cum. You must tell me when you are going to cum, so that I can ensure that it does not happen." She then soaped his balls and placed her hand around his hardness, stroking a couple of times.

Almost immediately, he felt pressure building at the base of his sex. "I'm going to cum," he shouted.

She stopped washing his penis, and laughed. "Oh, no, you weren't that close." Nevertheless, she stopped washing him, and took his arm, guiding him to stand. She wrapped him in the softest, most absorbent towel he had ever experienced. It enveloped him, making him feel comforted and safe, everywhere except where his erection pressed out against it.

The lady in red guided him out of the tub and led him to another door, across the room. Again, the next room was lit by candles. In the middle of the floor of this room was a low, padded massage table, with one modification. At one end, the table divided, so that there was a separate surface to rest each leg. The guided him between those two leg rests, and gently pushed his back onto the table. He lay back. It was wonderfully comfortable. She lifted his legs, one onto each of the end surfaces. Then she positioned herself between the two leg rests, between his legs.

"Ok, remember to breath and to concentrate. Don't tell me when you feel the first movement of your semen through in your balls and prostate. Tell me at just that moment when it is about to erupt." He concentrated on his breathing, pushing his stomach in and out. He felt a gentle pressure, the tip of her tongue, at the very base of his scrotum, where there was the smallest piece of skin that attached the bag to the rim of his anus. The pressure, her tongue moved over his aching scrotum, licking gently, offering some small comfort. Her tongue lightly washed each of his balls, then moved to the underside of his raging hard-on. The tongue, just the very tip of it, slowly moved up along the tube under his penis. When she reached the smoothness of the tip, her tongue moved around beneath the head, then over the top of the head, and finally twirling around the tiny hole. The sensations made Michel feel like he could fly off of the table, but she held his hips firmly down. She stopped for a moment and said, "Remember your breathing and to tell me when you are ready to ejaculate." He pushed his stomach up and down, breathing deeply. He felt her lips, those warm full lips, engulf his tip. Slowly, steadily, her mouth took him in. Moving down the shaft, taking all of him to the very root. Holding him deeply in her mouth for a moment, she ran her tongue around the shaft and over the tip. Michel was overcome with a multitude of sensations. His entire being was absorbed into that soft, warm mouth.

Then she began to rise, as if she were squeezing him out of her mouth with her lips. Only the head remained in her mouth. Then she moved back down, taking him in all the way. His thighs, hips and buttocks tensed. He felt the cum rising again. He remembered her instruction to wait until he was ready to "erupt." He clenched his muscles, holding back as long as he could, as her mouth moved up and down over his cock. "Now!" he finally shouted.

She stopped, with holding him with her mouth completely engulfing his organ. He felt her fingers pressed at the spot between his balls and his anus whether the muscles force the semen into the penis. He felt his body convulse with his orgasm. His cock, balls and all the surrounding muscles spasmed. Yet not fluid raced through his penis.

When the convusions ended, she removed her mouth from his organ. "Have you ever had an orgasm without ejaculating before?" she asked him with that warm smile.

"No." He could barely gasp the answer.

"You have now," she laughed. She rubbed oil into him, urging him to relax. "You will have to practice that three more times."