The wind gusts so hard it pushes me to the side. Bits of sand and grit rip across my skin like glass. It tears at my scales and blinding dirt gets in my eyes. I close my protective lids, regaining my vision. Olivia clings tight, both her arms around my neck.

Another gust of wind hits, this time so hard it spins us in a circle. The sand comes with the wind and then the gusts are coming faster and faster. It's whistling across the land, grinding with shredding force. The storm limits my vision, even with my protective lenses, to a few feet.

Olivia shouts something, it sounds harsh and I assume its a curse. I get that. This is bad. We won't make it to the others. The storm is gaining distance.

Changing directions I run, carrying Olivia, straight into the wind. The gale force pushes back, I strain against it, digging my feet in to gain each step forward while being pushed backwards. Leaning into it, I make headway, but slow, too slow. My neck and shoulders knot into hard balls as I push forward.

I fold my wings in tight as the wind tries to catch and force them open. The sand tears at me, ripping at our clothes. Olivia has small cuts on all her exposed skin, her lack of scales leaves her unprotected. I have to get her to safety.

Distant screams reach my ears. I yell too but the rush of the wind carries the sound of my voice away. The sandstorm is blinding. If I don't find shelter for us, Olivia might not survive.

My hearts pound harder. Adrenaline pumping fuels my rage. The bijass pushes in, trying to claim my mind. I can't let it.

The wind gusts and Olivia's cries of pain reach my ears over its gale force noise. Moisture streams from her tightly closed eyes. She turns and buries her face against my chest, seeking protection.

The rock outcropping is just ahead. Safety, shelter, I must reach it.

I get an idea, it's dangerous, but I have to protect her. The wind pushes hard but I open my wings. A gust catches them, pulling, straining my muscles.

It hurts, a lot.

Ignoring the pain I force them forward. It feels as if the muscles are tearing as I push my delicate wings against the wing.

I'm pushed back as I do. Sliding along the sand, my heels digging in deeper. At last they're closed around Olivia, protecting her from the worst of the storm.

Pushing ahead, I regain the lost ground as the intensity of the storm increases.

Darkness falls, the swirling dirt and sand blacking out the suns.

Every step is a triumph of will. Muscles tear as I force them beyond any demand I've put on them before. The ache in my wings fades under the onslaught of cutting sand. Olivia is shaking in my arms. We're almost to the rocks.

The wind blasts me backwards again, stealing what ground I've gained. Leaning forward I push back against the assault. One step, another, then sliding back. My feet press down, swaying my tail for balance, the sand comes half-way up my calves as I push my way forward.

Despite my protective lenses I can't see more than a few inches in front of my face. It's a swirling wall of grains of sand. The outcropping of rock appears as if materializing from nothingness, cutting through the storm for a moment. Putting the wall to my left I use its shelter to make my way along, looking for the crevice I noticed earlier.

The wind is whipping back and forth, pushing me away from the rock then slamming me into it. I keep myself turned out just enough so that when it slams me back, I can protect Olivia. The wind, sand, and debris pounds my shoulder and side with bruising force but it doesn't matter, I'm protecting her.

Feeling my way along the wall, at last I find the crevice. My wing muscles cry out in pain as I open them and then shove Olivia into the opening. She stumbles in to the tight space, safe, or safe as possible in the middle of a sand storm.

I can't fit all the way in, I'm too broad for the opening. It's fine as I use my body to block the storm from finding its way into her. It's not deep or wide, but there's enough room for her to be out of the worst of the storm. Her body presses close to mine and now, with relative safety, I can't take my attention off the feel of her soft curves.

My prime penis stirs, stiffening, pressing into her rear. Her scent fills my nostrils, an intoxicating odor that carries my thoughts away. I want her.

She leans into me, her head tilting up towards mine. On impulse, feeling bold, I claim her lips as I have seen Astarot do with his female.

The storm fades to background noise, concern and pain wash away in the sweet release of her mouth.

I probe her lips with my tongue, exploring het depths. Her tongue darts out, meeting mine, a pleasure I've never experienced.

Her rear moves against my body, grinding, making my cock harder. I desperately want to fill her over and over until she screams my name in pleasure. Tasting her mouth ignites a desire to taste her lower.

Impossible in this cramped space. We're in a storm, separated from our group, lost in the wilds. It doesn't matter. She's giving herself and I want all she offers.

I will please her. I want her moaning. Sliding one arm over her shoulders, I move it down across her front over her soft, exposed breasts, so different than a Zmaj woman. I've dreamed of her soft flesh since meeting her. I wonder what they look like, feel like, what they would taste like in my mouth.

Ignoring them out of necessity and impossibility I slide my hand into her pants, seeking her core.

My fingers slide across soft fur then find wetness. Moving my hand around I find her opening, slick and ready, my finger slides easily inside. She moans into our kiss, the start of what I will make her feel.

I shove my finger as far inside her as I can then move it in a slow circle. Her rear grinds hard into my pounding cock. I groan, almost to the edge myself.

Sliding my finger in and out, her moan rises to match and overtake the whistling wind. She pants even louder as I pull my finger out and up, pressing into her body. A hard nub rubs against my finger and pressing it seems to bring her more pleasure, causing her to shiver and shove her body into me.

She wiggles under my ministration. My cock pounds with its need for release. Her wetness is enough to allow me to slide a second finger inside. She cries out and then she screams my name, pressing hard into me. Her body shudders in my arms, then she goes limp.

I hold her tight, keeping her safe while we wait for the storm to pass.