16,000 years in the future…

“You’re sure this is the Sahara?”
“The map says so, doesn’t it?”
“But my senses tell me differently. It’s so… humid. And wet. And I don’t remember there being a rainforest here, either.”

I began to unbutton my shirt, almost by instinct.

“Thank the North African monsoon,” she said matter-of-factly. “Its northward migration helped with the fertility.” She tossed her discarded tee casually on the floor of the pod. “The extinction of humanity couldn’t have hurt, either.”

I couldn’t argue with that, although I had assumed, until that point, that some other invasive life form would have done whatever it could to ensure that the arid desert remained the blasted wasteland it had once been. As I cast my eyes across the vast swathes of jungle that reached past the horizon, even from this height, it turned out I was wrong.

“You’re sure this is safe?” I asked, as I fumbled with my belt. “Nngh,” I added helpfully as I gave it a heftier tug. It dug into my midriff as I eased it open. My trousers slid off easily, though, to my relief.

“Safe? Of course it’s safe! We’re fifty metres from the canopy!” she laughed. “Even if one of the unmentionables that survived the eruption…”

An eerie, ululating call came from below. She continued unabated, unhooking her bra as she did so.

“…that survived the eruption did notice us, how could they do anything? We’re up here.” Dropping her bra in my lap served as a reminder of exactly what we had come here to do. Trust me to become distracted by science, although not all of me was distracted by the chittering of nature above the soft hum of the hovering pod. That was judging by the rapidly increasing stiffness making it difficult to keep my pants on.

I’ve never been able to resist her breasts. I love their form, their shape and their weight in my hands. They compliment her small frame perfectly. Add in the sweeping red hair, the sparkling green eyes and the tireless tongue and I still don’t know why she’s in the least attracted to the shambling mess I am.

She catches me looking. It’s perhaps the first time I’ve been distracted from the North African Fertile Growth. Someone in a white coat decided that the term “Sahara” carried too many negative connotations; I may not have agreed with him, but there was certainly a lot of fertile growth going on at the moment.

“So don’t worry,” she stressed, moving closer. “You worry too much.”
“I suppose I just think a lot,” I murmured.

She was far too close. I could feel the tickle of her hair, crackling with static. I could breathe in the scent of rosin and woodsmoke that I always associated with her. I could see the peak of her stiffening nipples…

“You need a distraction,” she whispered in my ear, “a distraction from your stress.”
“So distract me.”
“That’s what I needed to hear,” she mouthed, alighting deftly on her knees. “Keep an eye out for any other pods, will you?”

And I sat in my seat, the force of nature spread out below me, life continuing apace from every corner, while she closed her lips around the burgeoning shaft of my cock.

[Inspired by Wikipedia's timeline of the far future and my earlier fiction, Dinosaur Boy. There may be more of these at some point - this is fun!]