I'm just back from an unusually satisfying dubbing job. A French documentary about ancient Egypt. I had to do a few voice overs in English. It meant working with a pretty sleazy outfit that normally I wouldn't touch with a barge pole but it was mid-August and they were offering double pay and cash in hand. It was hot as hell in the small studio as the air conditioning wasn't working. Also there was only one technician. Everybody else was on vacation. He kept complaining that he was doing the work of four people and I had a headache and a hangover so we didn't get off to a very good start. Just to make matters worse there was no coffee machine and only a small bottle of lukewarm water.

The documentary was your usual run-of-the-mill stuff full of sand and pyramids. After ten minutes or so my mouth was even drier than the desert but the rest of me was wet. The technician came in to adjust my microphone. I saw that the movie was having the same effect on him and that his shirt and pants were sticking to him. I also noticed, for the first time, that they had something pretty nice to stick to too. He wasn't your actual Adonis but there was a firmness about him which culminated in his cast iron ass.

As he leaned over to reach the mike, my nostrils drank in a heady mixture of body lotion and body odour. Naturally this started me wishful thinking but he seemed intent on what he was doing and paid no particular attention to me. Still before going back to his glass cabin, he took off his shirt and used it as a towel and I got a further whiff of his furry armpits and a glimpse of his torrid torso. The effect on my dick and knees was instant and contradictory. My knees turned to jelly, my dick to stone. But I battled on through the desert and the endless commentary.

We had a break half way through and he drank beer from a can. He had your classic rosebud mouth which he opened wide as he tilted his head back and poured the foamy liquid down his throat, giving me another luscious look at his armpits. I watched the drops of beer dribble down the bristles on his shaved chest to mingle with the sweat between his pert pecs. My mouth was dry as a bone by now and my dick even harder.

The heavy air and the sultry sight of this butch bimbo caused my head to spin and my imagination to work overtime. I envisaged my thirsty tongue rafting down that sexy rivulet and making a beeline for the never-never land of his nether regions. I imagined the sweet nectar oozing from his dick as it reached up to meet my salivating mouth, like dew nourishing a flower.

He finished his beer and I had to make do with yesterday's tepid mineral water. Dream over. If we'd been dubbing a porno movie maybe I might have got some action but there are few turn-ons to be had in the Sahara desert. As if in answer to a gay man's prayer a great mass of white bosom loomed up before the camera lens. It was a blonde photographer, her breasts bursting out of her blouse. "Wow," I heard him say through the headphones, "I certainly wouldn't mind having a go at that. Now there's a pussy I'd like to plow. Probably gives a great blow job too."

Now I love gutter talk during sex and sometimes even indulge in it on the phone but here, in a recording studio, it seemed strangely out of place. A bit like Julia Roberts in "Closer" talking about the guy coming all over her face. Still I couldn't help thinking of those beer coated lips blowing me while he plowed her. That might be really something. My dry mouth began to water. He continued muttering horny obscenities and they began to have a strange aphrodisiac effect on me. It was almost as if he was directing them at me personally. I tried to keep my eyes on the script and concentrate but my mind was in ancient Egypt having erotic images of sizzling sex with this straight stud. I was his Pharaoh, he was my slave and I was bending him to my will.

Before long I became over conscious of the weight of my clothes and wanted so much to get out of them. I thought to hell with it and slipped off my shirt, stepped out of my slacks and stood there in my shorts which by this time were almost transparent with sweat and clinging provocatively to my butt. I heard him remark, "Making you hot too is she?" I chose not to answer. After all what could I say? I decided to stick to the script which by this time was also sticking to me. I plowed on.

There was no more water in the bottle and the air in there was unbearable. At one point I literally lost both my cool and my place and he came back into the studio. I noticed his dick was tenting his cotton pants. Mine was very much in evidence too. Neither of us said anything but an electric charge of mutual horniness crackled between us which had little to do with the buxom blonde up there on the screen.

As if putting me to the test, he let his dick brush against my butt as he leaned over to help me find the right page. I put up no resistance and soon felt his surprisingly cool hands peeling off my sweat drenched briefs and coming to rest on my overheated dick. I've had some sensuous sensations in my time but cool hands soothing hot dick must be one of the greatest.

Then he almost spoiled it all by saying, "Did anyone ever tell you that your butt cheeks are like a pair of orgasmic dumplings?" Any other time such a dumb line would have made me crack up. It sounded as if he'd filched it from some corny adult movie but by now he was doing such fantastic things to me I could have accepted any drivel from the tongue he was thrusting deep into my ear. I knew this was but a foretaste of what he would soon be doing with his dick. And the drivel did indeed continue. "Those fuck cheeks of yours took my horny mind right off that blonde chick's breasts and had me wondering what it would be like if I shifted my attentions to you," he slurped while licking the sweat from my back. "After all a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Bathe me with banalities I thought as his tongue washed over me and his cool hand proceeded to make my 'bird' sing full throttle as he buried his hot rod into my 'burning bush'.

It was almost surreal. The dreary documentary flashed on before us and the desert seemed to envelop us. Soon I lost all sense of past and present and just surrendered to sensations. The eternal now. The movie camera zoomed towards the sky and, as we took off with it, all the elements merged into one. One minute I was on land, the next I was all at sea as he worked me up 'fore and aft' and sent my senses sailing over the tides of time. As I felt him penetrate me I forgot all about the pyramids and began to concentrate on my trip down the Nile. His dick was at once a magnificent Egyptian barge and my turbulent waters overflowed with him. I took the sexual rough with the sensual smooth. His recently shaved chest sandpapered my back and, as he plowed and pumice stoned me, my teeth chattered in spite of the heat. At the same time I melted to his ministrations and found myself in a timeless zone of infinite pleasure. My parched mouth assuaged by a river of satisfaction I erupt with the cream of life. In an instant two strangers become one.

I turn and see him as if for the first time. My headache and hangover have vanished and he's no longer complaining about doing the work of four men. Anyway for me he's done the work of four and forty. I kiss him on the mouth and savour his lips. The taste of beer still lingers. He kisses me back and says, "We'd better get on with the job." In ten minutes we've finished although my throat is even drier than before. He takes me to the bathroom and we wash as best we can. He closes up the studio and takes me to his car. We go to a diner and gratefully drink cool glasses of beer and have a sandwich or two. We don't say much. It's all been said. We exchange glances as we realize we are not hungry for food but for each other. He takes me home and we wash properly this time under the shower. We are both hard again. I touch the dick that has given me such pleasure. It glistens with self-lubrication. My skin begins to tingle. I run my tongue along its sturdy stem and then let it flower in my mouth. I think of something I read somewhere long, long ago. In another life maybe. Certainly in another dimension.

And the desert shall blossom as the rose. I grasp his sweet ass and relish the tasty tang of his dripping dick. I moisten my mouth with his jizz and drink my fill from his well.

I have decided never to be thirsty again.