The best sex is like pure gold
The sun beats down on the salt bush flats, turning everything to a shimmering haze. Thirty degrees of October heat presses against my skin, sweat already tracing paths down my spine beneath my cotton tee. My metal detector feels heavy in my hands, its rhythmic sweeping the only sound besides the buzz of flies and the distant skittering of a blue-tongued lizard disappearing behind a red stone.
Angus is fifty meters to my left, his Akubra casting a shadow over his face as he works his own patch of ground. The red dirt stains our boots and the hems of our shorts, dust coating everything like a fine layer of rust. I've been sweeping this patch for two hours, my headphones filled with the low grumble of mineralised ground and the occasional false signal from buried miners' scrap iron.
Christ! —a smooth, regular, high-pitched hum that cuts through the noise like a knife. My heart kicks against my ribs. This isn't the jagged burst of a bottle cap or the hollow thud of a beer can.
Fuck it's pure, clean, the kind of signal that makes your palms sweat and your throat tighten.
My detector is humming like my vibrator on max speed.
I drop to my knees, the detector's pin pointer chirping as I wave it over the spot. My mini pick chips into the cracked red soil, breaking the hardened crust.
The earth smells metallic and ancient, like blood and time. I work carefully, methodically, removing layer after layer until my thumbnail scrapes against something hard.
There. A glint of yellow against the red.
My breath catches as I clear more dirt away. It's not a huge nugget, maybe the size of my thumbnail, thin and delicate like a sliver of sunlight captured in stone. I lift it carefully, brushing away the clinging soil. Five grams, maybe ten. Enough to make my hands tremble as I hold it up to the light.
"Have you got something, Remi?" Angus calls out, already striding toward me.
"Better than something," I yell back, my voice tight with excitement. "The real deal."
He reaches me, his shadow falling over where I kneel.
"Let's see, babes."
I open my palm. The nugget rests there, gleaming against my dirt-streaked skin, its weight almost negligible but its presence enormous.
"Well, I'll be," Angus breathes, crouching beside me. His fingers hover over the gold but don't touch.
"That's a beauty. That'll fix my bike for sure."
I snap my hand closed around the nugget. "Your bike? This is going on my finger."
Angus laughs, but there's an edge to it. "We've been together five years, Remi. You think one little nugget changes anything?"
"It changes everything," I say, standing up and brushing dirt from my knees.
"This is proof. We're meant to be. Finding our future."
"Or it's proof we're two idiots sweating in the desert for pocket change."
He stands too, towering over me despite my own height.
"Let's get back to the 4WD. I need a beer."
The walk back is tense, our boots crunching on gravel and dried salt bush. The gold nugget feels heavy in its glass vial in my pocket, a solid weight against my thigh.
Angus doesn't speak, just walks ahead with his shoulders set. I follow, the heat pressing down, my anger simmering beneath my skin like the sun-baked earth.
At the 4WD, I wrench open the back door and grab our water container. The plastic is warm from the sun, but the water inside is cool. Without thinking, I tilt my head back and pour it over my hair and face. Water streams down my neck, soaking the collar of my t-shirt, making the thin cotton cling to my breasts.
I hear Angus's sharp intake of breath. When I lower the water bottle and push my wet hair back from my face, he's staring at me.
Mmm, have to agree my frickin nipples are chest pebbles.
His eyes are dark, fixed on where my nipples press against the damp fabric of my shirt. The anger between us shifts, thickens into something else.
"Like what you see?" I ask, my voice low.
He doesn't answer, just steps closer. His hand comes up to my chest, his thumb brushing over one peaked nipple through the wet fabric. A shiver runs through me despite the heat.
"You're playing dirty," he murmurs, his voice rough.
I drop to my knees on the red dirt, my fingers already working at the button of his shorts. "I play to win."
His dick springs free, already hard and thick. I wrap my hand around him, feeling the heat of his skin, the pulse of blood beneath my fingers. The head is slick with pre-cum, and I lean in to taste him, my tongue swirling around the ridge.
"Fuck," he breathes, his hands tangling in my wet hair.
I take him deeper, my lips sliding down his shaft, my tongue pressing against the sensitive underside. He tastes like salt and skin, like the desert air. I work him with my mouth, with my hand, building a rhythm that makes his hips jerk forward.
"Promise me," I say, pulling back just enough to speak. "Promise me dinner at the pub tonight. A proper meal, not roadhouse crap."
"Anything," he gasps as I take him deep again, my throat relaxing around him. "Whatever you want."
I suck harder, my hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. "And my ring. A real one. Gold, with a diamond."
His fingers tighten in my hair. "Yes. God, yes. Keep sucking, babes"
He gets the sloppy spit swathe. Saliva drenches his cock. The only wet wood in fifty square kilometres.
"Shit," I say, bracing my hands against the hot metal of the vehicle. I position myself, arse wiggling, buttocks jiggling, booty spread, inviting his stiffy between my thighs.
My pussy is wet, swollen with arousal.
I press back against him, taking just the head inside me.
"One more thing," I whisper against his ear. "A white wedding. In a chapel. And a honeymoon in Broome."
I pull away, his pork sword couldn't frickin fry like barbecue sausage in this heat
He groans, "Whatever you want. Just let me fuck you."
Fuck the heat, I raise the boot, spread my arms and my boots, partial shade as my man ravishes me.
I let him slide all the way in, my body stretching around his thickness. He starts to move, his hips snapping against my ass, each thrust driving me forward against the camp gear.
The sun is beating down on us as we fuck in the open desert.
"Harder," I demand, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Make me believe it."
His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. He pounds into me, our bodies slapping together, the sounds obscene in the quiet landscape.
"Nnghh! Hngggh!"
A slapping, squelchy, puck, puck, like bore water pushing to the surface.
I reach down with one hand to rub my clit, my fingers pinching my sensitive nub as his dick fills me again and again.
My orgasm builds like a wild desert storm, starting deep in my belly and spreading outward. My toes dig into my soles, my thighs jelly.
"Don't stop," I gasp. "Don't stop! Aahh! Aahh!"
He doesn't. He fucks me through it, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own release approaches. I feel him swell inside me, his rhythm breaking, and then he's coming with a hoarse cry, his hot cum flooding my pussy.
"Orrghh!" He grunts.
At that moment, I gush, my spray, wetting the dry earth beneath me.
A slurry puddle of red earth.
We stay like that for a moment, panting in the heat, our bodies still joined.
The sun continues its relentless assault on the desert, but for now, I don't mind. I have my gold, my promises, and my man's cum dripping down my thighs as he goes for the guy's beer after sex from the eski on the back seat.
"Fuck me!"
I see a glint of gold in our combined emissions and muddy slick.
Cum oozing from my pussy as I bend, sweet Jesus, it's a fucking whopper of a nugget.
I lift it, use the only wet material around; my leaking pussy smeared on my palm.
Gold glints after a shine by fem-cum and jizz.
I see the beginning of everything.
My ring.
Our wedding.
Yeah, I like his cock; so he can fix his bike.