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Summary
The cactus stood alone among the others. Thick, green, rippling with swollen curves and fleshy ridges, the skin glistening with sap.
He staggered toward it without thinking, blood thundering in his ears. His thighs rubbed together, sticky, his hole clenching with desperate, mindless need. He needed to be filled, needed it like air, like water.
Panting, he dropped to his knees in the dirt, fumbling his shorts down, not caring that his skin scraped on the dry, pebbly earth. His pussy was already wet, embarrassingly so, slick strings dripping down the inside of his thighs.
He wrapped trembling hands around the cactus, the soft, harmless spines brushing his palms. They only made the heat worse, like tiny sparks dancing across his nerves.