Monsoon in the Desert

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Darkness rolled across the sky way off to the south, striking a sharp contrast to the vivid streaks of pink and orange that highlighted the desert sunset. Sunsets in Arizona were always nice, but the sunrises always reminded me just how beautiful life can be. They were my signal to live my life to the fullest every day.

A storm was brewing, I just didn’t realize how bad it was going to be. The cloud of dust could be seen as far as the eye could see. This storm became what they called, “The Great Haboob.” Anyone caught driving would lose visibility and likely crash if they didn’t pull over and stop.

The storm was later reported to be ten-thousand feet high at one point, and fifty miles wide. It literally covered the entire city and flights had to be halted at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport.

Dust was only part of the problem. The severe thunderstorm that accompanied the dust packed a serious punch. Micro-bursts hit like mini tornadoes and the horizontal rains brought on flash flooding.

I actually watched my tonneau cover rip away from my truck bed and cartwheel down the street into the back of a Honda. The windows of my house trembled as the wind howled all around. A tree in my neighbor’s yard, directly behind me, split and dropped a third of its forty foot size directly into my backyard.

When the bulk of the storm had passed, the entire neighborhood came out to witness the carnage. The sheer destruction was incredible. Brick walls were blown down, Spanish tile roofs were shredded, and I saw a car crushed beneath a downed tree one street south of me.

For many people, here in the desert, the monsoon season is welcomed. It provides a form of entertainment, except when it’s your stuff flying away or getting pummeled. The lightning shows are fun to watch, but you know when they hit too close. The hairs stand up all over your body, the smell of ozone floods your nose, and the crackling thunder makes you jump out of your skin.

I am one of those who welcomes the monsoon. As a freelance photographer, I love to catch the crazy images monsoon season produces. Selling the pictures I take is a bonus. It lets me know people honestly enjoy the scenes I capture.

I have done calendars for the past nine years. I started off with the brilliant sunrises we have here in the Valley of the Sun and then included the wild lightning storms. Capturing thunderstorms is the highlight of my summers. Let’s face it, the heat makes everyone want to be anywhere but here in the summer.

I now sell ten different calendars with different themes and make a respectable income.

It was during “The Great Haboob” that my life changed and led me on to a different path. I’m Sam Mills, bachelor extraordinaire, as of today. Some would say I am in damn good shape, others would say I have life on a string, most would say I have the biggest heart.


I’m doing very well for myself at thirty-one years old. I had a great job, and a hobby that made money. I used the money I made from my first two years selling calendars as my initial investment in a bank owned property. As business soared, I quit my day job.

I would keep an eye on the bank owned properties and take a tour of them when I was ready to make a purchase.

My last purchase was for twenty homes, four years ago. The banks were giving deep discounts to investors who would purchase an entire lot that the bank packaged together. It cost me sixteen cents per dollar at their current appraisals. I figured that was good considering how bad the market had taken a beating.

I was not expecting to start making money off these homes. Most of the homes needed very little work in order to rent them out. Quite a few of them were in incredible condition, with premium floors, granite countertops, and top of the line appliances.

The master bath in the house I would live in was truly a work of art. It had a walk in shower, big enough to fit four people comfortably, and enough shower heads built into the walls to accommodate everyone. I love that shower!

However, three of the homes the bank put in the package needed serious work. I would need to put up another chunk of cash to make them livable.

That wasn’t going to be a problem with the amount of equity I had in the properties. I hired Jim, a handyman, to deal with the smaller issues. He had hit hard times when he took his retirement at twenty years. The economy was in the toilet and he was on the verge of being homeless.

Jim was in his late thirties and knew his way around fixing almost anything. He would become my property manager and good friend. Jim was a veteran who enlisted at eighteen. He had divorced his cheating wife. She picked him up from the airport after being deployed fifteen months in Afghanistan. She was eight months pregnant. I’m not sure how she figured Jim would believe it was his, or if that was her way of telling him she had moved on.

The divorce wiped out his savings marmaris escort as the courts split their assets. Decent jobs were scarce and Jim was having a hard time getting on his feet. Part of his compensation would be a home he could live in rent free.

Anyway, one of those homes had to be gutted. The stench of animal urine and mold, along with the damage to the walls, would be costly and time-consuming. It looked as though the people who had owned the house had lived like pigs and then destroyed everything they could before they left.

The orange home improvement store loves my business and has even volunteered to help fix up a couple of homes being utilized for my program. They have done everything from landscaping and painting, to installing blinds and flooring.

Ten of my houses are now used to help people. Sometimes one family will stay in a house up to a year or more, as long as the adults in the house are going to school and work at least part time.

Other times, individuals will share a house with others, trying to get back on their feet. I try to match up personalities and people with similar life experiences to help the continuity of the house.

There is no drinking or smoking allowed while they stay. They are not permitted to throw any parties, but guests are encouraged as long as it helps their situations.

We help them with government assistance, educational and vocational programs, job searches, résumé writing, mock interviews, and financial counseling. I’m not going to say we can help everyone who comes to us, but our success is evident by the amount of donations we get back from people we have been able to help. Grants have also given us another source of revenue.


For the long haul these properties were my nest egg, or sell in case of emergency fund. I felt that at my age, I could help others, given my financial luck.

I started a non-profit organization to help people get on their feet, in particular, for veterans, but I look at each situation independently. My father was an enlisted Marine who died while serving when I was just seven years old.

My mom had no family to turn to and was devastated when he passed away. He wasn’t killed in combat or anything dramatic like that. He had developed pneumonia and died three days later. That’s what the uniformed man said when he came to the door while I clung to my mom’s side.

My mom didn’t cope well and ended up leaving me with my uncle Don. Why she never came back was a mystery to me. He was a Marine as well. He was much older than my dad and had that can do attitude. He instilled in me the drive that I carry with me today.

My uncle never sugar coated anything, except when it came to my mom. He was tactful when I asked about her, and I asked about her a lot during the first year. He expressed his thoughts about my mom and never said a bad thing about her.

As the years rolled by, I won’t say that it got easier, but I didn’t think about my mom nearly as much by the time I became a teenager. Around the holidays I still felt a deep sense of loss, and I always made something for her in February, when her birthday came around. My uncle kept all the presents I made, just in case she returned.

I loved my mom even though I felt abandoned at times. I became a young man, mentored by my uncle. Work was built into my character and independence, in my nature. I never became rebellious and I did well in school.

The small group of friends I had all moved on to college after graduation. We took a couple of trips to celebrate our freedom. The first trip we took, I lost my virginity with a girl I didn’t know.

We had gone camping at Lopez Lake, just east of Pismo beach. We had a great time hiking and swimming. We even rented some quads and rode the dunes. That was how I met Dee. To this day I’m not sure if that was short for Diane or Dee Ann, or if that was even her name at all.

Dee was a good looking, enthusiastic, young lady, a couple of years older than my eighteen. Our group had spent most of the day with her friends riding the dunes, we had a blast. Her long, sandy blonde hair was hanging below her helmet, whipping in the wind as we rode.

As night fell that night, I would come to learn about the female anatomy and how we fit together. A first class blow job was performed like a porn star. She swallowed my cum like a fish in water and wanted more. Dee kept me hard after my first orgasm with a woman.

When we had talked earlier, our groups were discussing sex. Several of us still claimed our virginity proudly. Dee took notice and wasted no time staking her claim on me.

I was more than happy with the oral sex. As she continued to fellate my member, she kept whispering how much she wanted my cock in her. Once she was satisfied that my erection wasn’t going anywhere, she mounted me.

I won’t lie, her body was average, but then again so was mine at the time. Neither of us was out of shape, just not as defined as we could have been.

At marmaris escort bayan seven and a half inches, I knew I was on the larger side of the spectrum. Dee tossed the condom off to the side instead of putting it on me. Obviously, she wasn’t worried about getting pregnant or diseases.

She rode my cock to the base and ground her clit against my pelvis. Once she started to orgasm, it was like a roller coaster. Every minute or two Dee would climax and come down.

As I was getting closer, I asked her about changing positions. We settled on missionary where I felt more in control. I sucked on her B cups and noticed she liked to play with her clit while we fucked.

I asked to change again. I gripped her hips and slammed my meat into her, doggy style. Her face was down and her ass was up, just like the song said.

Dee was very vocal in that position. I’m not sure why, but in this position I knew I was diving deeper into her. My orgasm began to build and build, and when I exploded it felt as if a powerful wave crashed over me and flooded my senses.

I was extremely satisfied. I was able to hold out for a good twenty minutes, thanks to her oral expertise prior to actually fucking her.

Dee and I did it four more times over the next couple of days, and even did anal once, before we said our goodbye.

I discovered that I loved to give oral and enjoyed a woman who produced a lot of milky white cream for me to lap up. Anal was amazingly tight and smooth, and I enjoyed it immensely.

We both knew a relationship would not come from our actions. I was thankful I didn’t catch any STDs. One of my friends wasn’t so lucky. He hooked up with several girls on that trip and boasted about his conquests.

I knew at that time, being in a monogamous relationship, was more to my liking. I would not be as virtuous for another couple of years as I did sample a handful of women. I came to find out that all women are not created equal, and I enjoyed a wide variety of scenarios.

I was twenty-one when my days of sampling came to an end. Karen Johnson introduced herself to me while I was studying for finals at my campus library.

She politely asked if she could sit at my table if she promised not to disturb me. No matter what she did at that point, I was disturbed. Maybe it was just my cock that stirred voluntarily. Her voice was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.

Karen was a drop dead, smoking hot, walking wet dream, made for fucking, mixed nationality with African-American descent, lady. She was standing five and a half foot tall and it felt like my cock was trying to become just as tall.

Her outfit screamed ‘come fuck me,’ literally. She was wearing one of those “Liquor in the front, Poker in the rear” t-shirts that stretched tightly across her oversized D cup chest. The tight cutoff shorts showed off her perfectly shaped ass. It wasn’t one of those huge asses you see on many black women.

This woman’s scent caught my nasal receptors immediately. Pheromones or something was in her musky scent. I just wanted to bottle it up and become a billionaire.

Picture the face of Halley Berry, with long straight hair and a tiny tint of blue on black hair. Add in the boobs of Carmen Electra and the ass of Jessica Biel and maybe you can imagine what was staring at me.

Oh yes, I was disturbed!

I replied, “Yes please, suck down.”

Holy crap, my thoughts were bleeding through to my speech. The curl on her lip told me she was not offended.

“I mean, please, have a seat if your t-shirt is a reflection of who you are.” I took a chance with that statement. I didn’t want to scare her off but it seemed my previous comment was well received.

“Of course it does,” she stated as she pulled out a chair and added, “I routinely play on words.”

Gorgeous, playful, and smart. I can live with that, I thought to myself. I looked around and noticed she could have sat anywhere. There might have been five other students in the whole place.

I had confidence in myself and I never lacked self-esteem. This woman had shocked my system.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said, looking directly into her milk chocolate eyes.

Karen replied, “Not yet, but if you lick me up front, you can poke me in the rear, sometime down the road.”

“You have officially disturbed me now. You are going to make me fail my finals.”

Karen giggled and said, “Have I disturbed you, or only a small part of you?”

“The not so small part of me was the perfect gentleman. He stood up as your voice vibrated my eardrums.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sam. You are every bit the gentleman that your cock is. Don’t sell yourself short.”

How did she know my name? When did I have a bulls-eye painted on my back? What did she want from me?

“You seem to know who I am. Who might you be?”

“I’m sorry, Sam, I might be Karen Johnson, word jouster and professional tease. You dated a friend of mine until a month ago, Cindy Caster. She told me all about you.”

I was getting a escort marmaris little frustrated and replied, “Well, if you are done teasing me, I can get back to studying.”

The look she gave me told me she was not used to being blown off. Cindy and I had a few dates and I knew she was not for me after our third.

She could barely take half my cock in her mouth and didn’t seem to enjoy my size. Cindy didn’t like oral on herself and I can’t say I was thrilled with her skills. We parted on friendly terms. I wondered why Karen was here busting my balls.

“Who said I was teasing you, Sam?” Karen said, in a deep sultry voice as she slithered herself lower in her chair until she disappeared under the table.

I was wearing my gym shorts and didn’t have any undies on. Laundry was not high on my priority list with finals.

Next thing I knew, a soft warm hand slid up my thigh and was strangling my cock at the base. A slight groan escaped my lips. I caught myself before I drew the attention of the other students.

Karen tugged on the waistband of my shorts and easily extracted my cock from its confines. My eyes darted to the left and the right. I felt the softness of her lips engulf my manhood. I had never been an exhibitionist or done anything where I might get caught in public, and I must say, it was exciting.

My cock was being worked over expertly while her hand played with my balls. My knuckles were turning white as I gripped the heavy wooden table. I controlled myself well, only letting a few slight whimpers escape in the lowest of decibels.

The closer I got to my orgasm, the more my member swelled. Karen’s throat closed around my shaft as it began pumping my seed straight into her belly. She milked me for all I was worth before tucking my privates away.

Karen climbed back onto her seat with a smile that melted my heart while she licked her lusciously full lips. “Did that feel like I’m teasing you, Sam?”

My cock was still halfway hard. I was sort of delirious given my new found friend’s actions and wanted to know just how far she would take it. “If you were not teasing, you would bend that ass over the table and beg me to fuck you right now.”

Karen had a devilish smile, naughty and sexy. Without hesitation she pushed her chair back and bent over the table. Her beautiful breasts lay on the table with her nose only inches from mine. The smell of strawberries were remnants of her lip gloss. “Like this, Sam?” Then she whispered, “Please fuck me.”

I wasn’t expecting that response. Where in the hell did this incredible creature come from? I played it cool, or at least I felt like I had my poker face on. And boy did I want to do as her shirt stated. My studying was out the window, at least for a little while.

As much as I wanted to take her up on the offer, my mind was still trying to grasp what just happened. I needed some clarification about this entire episode.

“Why me, Karen?”

She slowly slid her rock hard nipples back to her side of the table and took her seat. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed that I didn’t take her up on her offer or not.

“After you stopped seeing Cindy, she told me all about you. Well, at least what she learned about you. A few days ago we had seen you in the food court and she went on and on about how she wasn’t experienced enough to enjoy being with you.”

“And,” I said, knowing there had to be more to it.

“And she wasn’t exactly comfortable doing some of things you wanted to do. You know, giving and receiving oral. She also said you were larger than what she had experienced.”

I was curious and wanted to know if these sort of conversations were normal among women and if they talked about anything other than sex.

“Is that what women discuss about guys?”

“No, she talked about how smart you are, and how you were self-driven. She spoke about you having an inner passion for living life. She thought you were a great catch for the right woman. By the time we had finished our conversation you had disappeared. I was interested in you but I thought it would be tacky to ask her for your number. I saw you here today and thought I would introduce myself.”

“I think that has to be the best introduction I have ever been a part of!” I stated humorously.

Karen could tell I was taking my education seriously. She took a seat next to me and we talked for a little while. She took the position she had earlier and asked me if I thought she was teasing. I asked her for a date right before she left. She accepted and kissed me softly. I tasted a mixture of strawberries and cream, my cream.

I sat there for a good half hour, dumbfounded. This goddess of a woman had breezed into my life. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to fuck me to death or if she wanted something more.

Our date was two days later. Karen was the whole package. Not only was she a knockout, she would have a great career dealing with sports injuries and rehabilitation. We both wanted children once we were established financially.

She was so free and open about what she wanted out of life. She never had a problem getting dates, but most of her dates wanted her body, not her mind. I saw her as an equal and enjoyed our conversations and banter.

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