Wild in the country book three
The pretty and shapely, thirty-year-old blonde slammed her front door and stood with her back to it, panting with fright. Always so sophisticated and worldly compared to the local populace of Pickford's Meadows, Liz Clark now found herself in a situation with which she could not deal. Peeking through the curtains that now stayed permanently drawn over the living room window, she saw the big, menacing form of John Proctor standing there with the axe handle swinging in his hand. She wondered if she should call the police, but that would only mean trying to summon Clete Anderson, her hard-hearted erstwhile lover who still bore her a terrific grudge.
John Proctor was a forbidding-looking person at the best of times and his chubby, pouting, middle-aged wife had nothing to be liked either, but as long as the burly farmer was not bothered, he was as harmless as any bull in a pen. But somehow, one of the free-roaming dogs that ran with Lobo, or perhaps Lobo himself, had appeared too near the old harridan and frightened her, and the dog-pack hysteria that was gripping the country town and surrounding farming community had settled on Emma Proctor as well. In this formerly secure and peaceful town, women no longer walked the streets during the night, and only cautiously during the day. There were rumors of women and girls being set upon, though no one had yet dared confess that she had been sexually assaulted by these dogs, who had acquired a definitely mystic and ghostlike quality. Being dog-raped was not something one liked to broadcast throughout the conservative Christian community of Pickford's Meadows.
Yes, Liz had trained Lobo, and taught him the techniques that had made him such an excellent standby lover. She had never intended that he should rape human females, but it was after all the town's brutal police chief that had turned the loyal animal renegade.
Liz stood there trembling for a long time, then was struck by the injustice of having to cringe terrified in her own home from a man without any good reason to threaten her. Throwing back the curtain, she lifted her fist to the angry Proctor and made a show of picking up and dialing the phone. She pretended to be talking boldly and angrily, in a voice loud enough to carrying faintly through the window, and the farmer's resolve seemed to weaken. After hanging up, she stood there smiling at him with her hands on her hips, until Proctor turned, tossed the axe handle into the back of his pickup truck, and took off with an angry spinning of the wheels.
Apparently, he knew nothing of the tension between her and Clete. So much the better.
Up until the last couple of months, before Nancy's rape by Lobo and the beating by Clete that had turned the dog renegade, Liz had enjoyed living in Pickford's Meadows very much. She had had many friends and a lovely life. But now she couldn't walk the streets with her head held high. She found herself ostracized by people who once had been quite friendly and now it seemed that her only friend was, again, Lobo.
Lobo had begun to visit her again. Liz's house backed onto the woods ringing the small town and it was easy for him to come and go unseen. She usually left her bedroom window open so that he could come and go at will, and it was a pleasant surprise, just last week, when he had shown up with three more dogs, his young offspring through his mating with a bitch in the next valley. They were Dusty, the clever one, Sam, the swift one, and Bruno, the giant, whose huge inhuman cock exceeded even Lobo's in size. She often fed them, sometimes enjoying their maleness on lonely nights, and heaven knew there were quite a few of those since Nancy Pace's experience with Lobo.
Liz was jerked out of her reverie by a knock on the door. After making a check through the window that it was not Proctor returning to harass her, she opened to a young couple on the porch, a lovely, dark-haired young woman and a blondish and slender young man who sported designer stubble and a hand-held tape recorder.
"Hi," said the young man, handing her a card. "My name is Rodney Foster and this is my wife Tanya. I'm a freelance writer working on a story and I was told you could help me."
Liz stood there, eyeing the visitors with hostility. Just what she needed, more curious, gawking, finger-pointers.
"Now, who could have told you that?" Liz said with palpable sarcasm.
Rodney smiled and said, "It was DesirЋe Denning. She said you wouldn't mind."
The blonde softened and let a wisp of a smile drift across her lips. "DesirЋe's a dear friend. Please come in." And Liz stood aside for them.
Once inside, Tanya and Rodney sat down while their hostess obligingly made them some coffee. When she returned, they spent a while talking about DesirЋe.
"I haven't seen her since the wedding," Liz mentioned. "She used to come here quite often, but it seems that marriage has changed her situation." The older woman thought back on that day. DesirЋe had been strangely cold toward her and at the time Liz had felt that her invitation to the wedding had come only as a formality. She had no idea that the young, beautiful bride resented her for what she had experienced with the wild canine Lobo just a few nights after the last time she had visited this house here, and again a month later after her dream honeymoon in the Caribbean. They were things that Liz would never know as long as DesirЋe had a mouth to keep very tightly shut.
But still, Liz talked fondly of her young friend, about her musical talent, her lovely singing voice, her quick and lively mind, and usual sense of humor.
"Which she seems to have lost of late," commented Tanya, lighting a cigarette offered to her by her hostess. "Dezzy's been a bit melancholy this last week, and not her usual jocular self."
Rodney smiled. "Doesn't that happen to most women every month?"
"DesirЋe's never been one to let PMS get her down," Tanya said.
Liz nodded. "Dez is one of those perfect women. Never did anything wrong, just as sweet inside as she was outside. She's still down at the church every Sunday singing her arias for the congregation and waiting dutifully for her politician husband at home on every other day. Never put a foot wrong as far as I know."
"I'd love to go on deifying DesirЋe Denning all afternoon, I'm sure," Rodney said, "but there are some other things you might be able to help me with."
Liz smiled and raised her eyebrows. "If I possibly can."
Perhaps DesirЋe's ears would have burned had she had her intuitions tuned and ready as her closest friends praised her virtues, but she was not in a psychic mood right now. There in the Denning home, where they had lived so short a time since their wedding less than a month before, a pall of resentment and shame hung over the occupants. DesirЋe's heart was breaking, for she could see her dreamland marriage of less than two months falling apart around her.
Things between her and Mark hadn't improved since that fateful night a week ago when the wild dog Lobo had bounded through their open bedroom window in the middle of their lovemaking and taken the newlywed bride for himself. Finding themselves in mortal danger after Lobo's savage killing of the rapist Johnny Canning, DesirЋe had unselfishly sacrificed her body to the lusts of the animal, right before the unbelieving eyes of her beloved Mark, and then found herself swept up in the wildly erotic scene, coming to climax after shattering climax beneath the hammering loins of the dog, while Mark, strangely excited by the lurid sight, had jerked his own fulfilment out on the sheets from just two feet away.
And Mark's resentment had not ceased to manifest itself for a moment during the last week. After Lobo had leapt out the window, he had dozed fitfully. But with the rising of the sun, he had arisen, looked around the messy room and soiled sheets, and as his young bride's eyes had opened to him, seen the sludge of heavy dog semen caked on the silky fur of her vulva, and run into the bathroom to be physically sick. Many times since then she had tried to awaken in him an affection for her, but he had remained cold. His goodbye kisses were merely ice-cold pecks and there was no hello passion when he came home at night. Since then, they had not made love or even come close to it.
DesirЋe had no way of knowing that a good deal of Mark's resentment was against himself for being totally unable to defend her from the raping dog. For the first time in his life he had felt totally powerless to deal with his situation, and those emotions had been exacerbated by the way his angelic, blonde bride had surrendered to the stimulation and turned into a wild bitch in heat beneath the driving cock of the dog Lobo. Again and again, the sight of her grunting and squealing, her ripe body bucking and churning, her lovely face twisted with erotic passion induced in her by the raping penis of another male – not even a human male – impinged on his memories. Blaming his own weakness for what had happened to DesirЋe, he then turned his self-loathing against her even as the vivid tableau of her degradation flashed before his mind's eye and made him afraid that he could never look on her again as he had before.
The girl had no idea how to deal with the hurt Mark was feeling, though she could well understand his revulsion of her, for she felt it equally for herself. She had not expected him to defend her, unarmed, against the dog, and she had only submitted to save his life, for she knew that she could not live without him. If only he would forget the incident for just a while, take her in his arms and make love to her deeply, cleanse the corruption from her womb, and give their relationship a fresh start. Her body burned for the touch of his hands, his lips, and his hard, thrusting penis, but all those wonderful things had been withheld from her for the intervening week.
And, there was one other thing that nagged at her mind and her conscience, something that threatened her happiness even more than that incidence of Lobo's rape and that was the little party of drugs and sex she had been seduced into by her new "friend" Priscilla Devereaux. It had come at the wrong time for her, missing Mark while he was away in the capital and needing a friend after losing her feelings for Liz, who had owned the murdering, raping devil beast that had now twice violated her innocent body. Priscilla had drugged her somehow and led her into that orgy with the execrable Clete Anderson, the chief of police. What was worse, she had filmed the encounter while Clete had wildly shafted her from behind. A copy of the video tape had come through the door just two days later and now, somehow, Priscilla was planning to blackmail her.
Since Priss was wonderfully wealthy herself, DesirЋe was sure that the blackmail entailed some other thing besides money, though what she could not surmise yet. But Priscilla's phone call just yesterday had left her in no doubt as to the seriousness of the threat. Friend! Priscilla was nothing but a treacherous bitch whose friendship had lasted only long enough for her to get DesirЋe to compromise herself in the most serious way.
Shaking herself, the young bride offered her sweet lips to Mark for a goodbye kiss but was rewarded only with the usual cold peck on the cheek. As he walked out the door, DesirЋe dabbed at the tears on her cheeks and turned to the phone. She felt awful this morning. It seemed that she always had this splitting headache on Monday mornings, and though it seemed to pass by the evening, it worried her. If these headaches did not soon cease, she knew she would have to make an appointment with Pastor Hemmings, who was also the town physician. Picking up the phone, she dialed Dr. Hemmings' office and made an appointment for Wednesday at ten o'clock.
"So," Rodney said after making a note in his book, "this dog, Lobo, belonged to you before going on the rampage."
Liz nodded, taking a drag on her cigarette. "That's what they say. But whether it's my Lobo on the rampage or some other dog, I can't say for sure. He was always very gentle with me."
"And what about these allegations that he killed a young man and some cattle on a ranch near here?"
Liz laughed. "Have you ever known a German Shepherd to kill cattle? If you ask me, I'd say it was a hoax with my runaway pet as the scapegoat."
"If you don't mind my asking, Mrs. Clark, why did he run away?" Rodney pressed.
Liz looked down and her eyes clouded. "Someone here, someone I knew, brutalized him. He had to run away to avoid being killed. He never returned."
"I see," Rodney sympathized.
Tanya spoke up. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom, Liz?"
"Go ahead. It's down the hall on the left."
Tanya got up and while Rodney continued with the interview, she went down the hall to the end and opened the door on the right. The light was off and the room in shadows so she had closed the door before she noticed that she had turned in the wrong direction. Flicking on the light switch, she discovered the large bedroom and the open window. She was turning to leave when a horrifying sound froze her in her tracks. It was a sound she heard in her nightmares since she had come to Pickford's Meadows and had her own first experience with the horrible legend of Lobo. She had hoped never to hear that sound again, for she associated it with her sordid session with the wet-tongued dog that Rodney and Liz were talking about, an event that neither of them had the slightest knowledge of.
That day, on one of his regular runs in the cool whispering woods which bordered on the rear of the property, the dog found himself not far away from Liz's house. For him and his brothers, as well as his sire, Lobo, Liz's house was a kind of refuge now since the senior dog had led them back here to safety, away from the hunting parties led by the angry cop Clete Anderson. Liz had received them affectionately and supplied their needs and shooed them out the back to safety when danger was near. Now he saw another beautiful human female, and he had learned recently from his mistress Liz exactly what these hind-leg-walking females were for. He had been feeling the rut in himself and now Liz had sent him this gift. For a moment the big German Shepherd stood stock still in intense concentration. Then, as he saw Tanya moving to leave, he gave forth with another menacing growl.
The dark-haired beauty was almost out the door now, trying to leave him, but his menacing growl stopped her in her tracks. Tanya sensed his presence and turned around, giving a startled jerk as her eyes fell on him again.
"Oh, doggie," she breathed in a voice seeming to have lost all strength. "Excuse me, I was just leaving." Tanya's soft, throaty, tremulous voice encouraged the big animal to come nearer and he stopped right next to Tanya as she timidly extended a hand to rub his head. The motion of her arm made her taut full breast move sensuously and catch the dog's attention. Without hesitation, Bruno lowered his huge head beneath the girl's loose, summer skirt and then his long thick tongue shot out to lick hotly over the panty-covered mound between her thighs.
"Ahhh," Tanya gasped involuntarily as that thick wet tongue sent little shivers running over her sensitized flesh, and her nipples rose into hard little buds of desire. In utter terror, remembering her experience with Lobo just recently, the strength left her legs and she collapsed onto her soft, round buttocks.
"Oh, please, don't…" Tanya breathed.
Bruno backed away a moment, momentarily discouraged by the tone of Tanya's words. But he began to whine excitedly, his front feet doing a little shuffle that moved him nearer and nearer to the lovely body he had already tasted. Seemingly unable to control himself, the big shepherd locked his teeth on the front of her blouse and pulled, tearing the fabric away to bear the lovely mounds of her bosom, then laving his moist tongue over one tingling breast. Then he turned his attention to the other one. When Tanya crossed her hands over her breasts to fend off the big dog, Bruno snuffled a hot trail down over her smooth belly and then began to sniff excitedly at Tanya's skimpy panties where her skirt had flipped up, letting his nose slide all over the stunned woman's scantily covered loins.
"Oh, no, not this again?" Tanya said, half in alarm, half in awe. She was sitting up now, drawing away from the dog's persistent attentions. For a moment Bruno stepped back, staring with unmistakable hunger at the half-naked female body before him. Tanya knew that this definitely wasn't Lobo – he was noticeably larger than his sire – but it was obvious that the huge German Shepherd was equally sexually attracted to women, and as much as she had enjoyed her perverse session with Lobo last week, in retrospect she had decided that she shouldn't repeat the experience. But then again, what could she do now? she thought, as an electric thrill shot from her moistening pussy up the tips of her panting breasts.
Half closing her lustrous dark eyes, the sensual young female fought to dominate her fright and lay back on the carpet, letting her arms move down to her sides. Then pressing them in, she squeezed her sleek breasts together, making them peak up together like miniature pink-capped mountains.
"Okay, big boy," she whispered up to the dog, giving up the fight, her body automatically remembering the joy she had felt with Lobo. "You can lick them." She didn't have to say it again. Bruno moved forward eagerly, dipping his head to let his cold nose thrust inquisitively into the deep cleft between the taut white mounds, and then once again his massive tongue shot out, licking wetly over the soft resilient flesh below.
"Ooooohhh," Tanya breathed out blissfully. "What a tongue… what a sexy tongue."
She arched her back a little, pressing her throbbing breasts upward, moving them in little circles, trying to help Bruno's big tongue as it trailed hotly over her palpitating flesh. "Oh, lover, lick, lick hard, make my tits hurt," Tanya moaned. Her legs were slowly writhing, her heels digging into the soft carpet as Bruno licked on. Closing her eyes, letting her head roll aimlessly back and forth, the panting young woman let an army of fantasies invade her mind. For long moments she imagined Mark Denning with her, straining forward to slide his hot grasping mouth over her shivering nipples. But then she suddenly realized she didn't need fantasy. Here was this German Shepherd standing over her, his huge tongue dipping into her soft breasts, driving her to a frenzy.
Reaching up, Tanya gently took Bruno's head in her hands and began to guide his muzzle over her nakedly quivering flesh, first one nipple, then the other, then underneath to stroke up and over onto the pebble-hard sensitiveness of the tips. With each hot burning swipe of that pleasure-giving animal tongue, Tanya could feel an answering spasm deep down between her legs as the wildly erotic sensations radiated outward from her tortured breasts to pluck maddeningly at her hungry loins. She could feel the hot juices building up inside her vaginal slit, beginning to soak the narrow crotch-band of her panties.
The hot secretions bubbling deep inside Tanya's still covered vagina began to become apparent to Bruno too. A heavy, rich, musky smell began to permeate his sensitive nostrils, further exciting the eagerly licking animal. For a moment he was unable to tear his attention away from the softly quivering breasts beneath his lashing tongue as Tanya held his head down tight against their trembling curves. The lovely brunette was half-mad with passion now, writhing and moaning on the carpet below the eagerly licking dog, little choked gasps escaping through her clenched teeth, Rodney and Liz forgotten in the next room. It might have gone on endlessly, but finally, the heady seductive odors wafting up from under those tiny panties proved too much for the big German Shepherd.
With a whine of exasperation, Bruno pulled his head away from Tanya's grasp and began to nose at the moaning woman's partially covered loins. Desperately the excited shepherd licked at the wispy piece of cloth, trying to get at the maddening essences beneath, his huge tongue spilling over and rasping across the tender flesh in the hollows of Tanya's loins.
To the sensually writhing brunette, this proved even more exciting. Rolling her nipples harshly between her own fingertips, the moaning young woman ground her hips down into the carpet, tantalized almost beyond endurance by the long pink animal tongue licking over and around her screaming pussy depths, fended off by her single remaining garment. For just one second Bruno nosed aside the tight cloth, his nose pressing into the softly curled pubic hair, but the material slid back fast to block his access to her sweet-smelling cuntal depths.
"Oh God," she moaned, reaching down to slide her fingers under the offending material. She was just starting to work it down over her hips when she suddenly realized where she was – right on the carpet. Suddenly, the gasping Tanya decided nevertheless that perhaps it might be a little wiser if she and Bruno went to the bed, to avoid getting carpet burns on her delicate skin…
Staggering to her feet, the raggedly breathing brunette stepped to the bed, her nakedly swaying breasts tantalizing Bruno's questing tongue.
"Come on doggie," she called needlessly. Bruno would have followed her to the ends of the earth. For a moment, the lovely half-naked woman stood in the middle of the king-sized bed, trying to decide what to do.
Standing right in the middle of the white satin sheets, the still-trembling brunette once again hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her panties and pulled down, all the way down to her ankles, bending over gracefully as she did so. With one kick the panties flew across the room and Tanya stood up, completely naked, her lovely sleek body a seamless curve, its perfection highlighted by the twin rosy peaks that capped her breasts and the rich dark curls that punctuated her smoothly swelling hips. Brown was her color, from the rich cream of her skin to the lustrous thick cloud of hair that spilled down over her slender shoulders, making a perfect frame for her dark, beckoning eyes.
"Come here, honey," she said, her voice husky. She stood waiting as the big dog came nearer, then, slowly sinking to her knees on the white satin sheet, the lovely naked woman took the dog's massive head in her hands. He licked her face for a moment, then once again darted his tongue out to her firm-pointed breasts, but Tanya pushed him away for a moment and lay down full length on the bed, her lovely coloring warming the shining white satin. Drawing up her legs so that her knees were slightly bent, Tanya let her thighs fall wantonly open, baring the passion-drenched slit nestled high up between her long graceful legs. Reaching down, the excited woman slowly pulled apart her pussy lips with her fingers, exposing the glistening pink flesh within.
"Lick it, darling," she begged. "Lick my pussy like you licked my breasts."
Would he do it? she wondered. Would he thrust his powerful tongue up into her hot cunt the way he had let it lash into her breasts, the way Lobo had done before? Hardly daring to breathe, the panting woman watched that big head move closer to her defencelessly naked genitals. For a long moment, Bruno just stared at the hot moist feast spread out below, then his nose thrust forward inquisitively, sliding up the tender flesh of Tanya's inner thigh.
"Oh!" she gasped out from the sudden shock of that cold dampness against her naked flesh. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out in tortured frustration as the nose swept lightly over her pussy hair, barely touching the needing cunt lips below. Oh, God, she thought to herself, she needed more, much more if she were not going to go completely out of her mind. Then suddenly, without warning, Bruno's tongue shot out to dart lizard-like in between her waiting pussy-flesh, splaying out wetly over her soft pubic mound, digging insistently between the desire-swollen outer lips to trail a line of fiery bliss into the moist inner pinkness.
"Aaaaahhhhhhh," Tanya half sobbed, her lovely body spasming into an arched curve as the first wild shock of that invading tongue rocketed through her waiting body. "Aaaahhhhh… aaaaahhhhhh," she continued to moan as time and time again that mighty tongue licked out, sliding wetly the full length of her palpitating little pussy slit, starting at her tiny anus puckered below, and trailing up over her clenched vaginal opening to finally end with a nerve-shattering swipe over her erect and painfully-throbbing clitoral bud. Again and again Bruno licked at her glistening wet nakedness, driving the sex-maddened woman to heights of passion she had never known before.
"Aaaahhhh… God… why haven't I ever done this all week?" Tanya moaned. "If I'd only known you'd been around, big boy." Her softly flexing thighs spread mindlessly apart to open her burning cunt wider to the slavering animal, but that was not enough. Drawing up her knees so that they pressed tightly against her breasts, the young woman rolled herself into a quivering ball of primordial lust. At the same time she reached desperately down and taking Bruno's head, pulled it hard against her screaming convulsing loins, wanting his tongue to plunge deep, deep up inside her burning pussy.
But her new position had also spread wide her ass-cheeks, and the fascinated Bruno was presented with a new target: Tanya's tightly pursed little anus. Licking lower, the big animal began to torture the rubbery opening, even managing once to dig his tongue slightly inside. His helpless victim went nearly insane with this obscene new assault, her whole body jerking and lunging on the bed while choking gasps of sexual need bubbled up from deep in her chest. Bit by bit her delirious ravings fell into a rhythmic chant, keeping time to the dog's depraved lickings up between her wide-split crack.
"Oooooh, ooooohhhhhh, ooooohhhhhh," she moaned. "Keep licking… licking… it feels so good… make me cum, going to cum… oh, faster, harder."
Eagerly the big dog licked into the aromatic feast below, his senses filled with the rich taste and smell and sight of this nakedly aroused human. Little by little a fierce burning was growing in the animal's own loins, brought to life by the writhing woman who begged and pleaded under him, nestled in the sensuous silkiness of the white sheets. Harder and harder the big animal stroked his tongue into the sex-slippery cunt so shamelessly offered up to him, at the same time growing ever more excited himself.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes… that'll do it… that'll make Tanya cum. Keep it up. Just another second or two…" The dark-haired beauty was moaning and twisting in completely abandoned lust, feeling a wild pressure building, building far up inside her belly, stroked into life by Bruno's lust-firing tongue. Powerful spasms began to seize her helpless body and she was letting herself go with it when – suddenly to her horror she felt Bruno's head wrenched from her grasp and her quaking cuntal flesh knew a terrible absence.
The shocked young woman raised her head questioningly to see what had robbed her of her orgasm. "W-What's the matter, Bruno?" she asked pleadingly.
The big animal was backing slowly away from her, a confused look on his face. "Come on," Tanya begged, "come on back and do it to Tanya. Please, baby, just a little more, just a little more and I'll cum…"
And then she saw it – his cock! As the young woman stared wide-eyed at the furry belly of the big German Shepherd, she saw his huge penis slowly emerging from its hairy protective sheath, long and scarlet, needle-pointed and menacing. Longer and thicker it grew as the dog's excitement increased, until finally it stood out huge and rigid, a drop of viscous seminal fluid gleaming jewel-like at the very tip, a glistening promise of the animal's potency.
"My God!" Tanya breathed to herself. She'd seen a few cocks in her life, but never anything to match this. It was so damn big! Tanya found herself wondering if a woman could take a thing like that inside her without being split apart. But the most fascinating thing about the mighty organ bared to her gaze was its obscene scarlet coloring, growing out of the dog's pale-furred belly like the stalk of some lewd plant. And that cock was meant for her: she knew it, Bruno had become aroused while licking her pussy and now it looked as if he wanted to use that huge weapon on her!
This was much more than the lovely brunette had bargained for, here in Liz Clark's bedroom. It was so sneaky, while Rodney was interviewing Liz about this very matter, but at the same time, Tanya's aroused pussy was clamoring for more attention, something to push her over the edge into her orgasm. "Oh, doggie," she whimpered, her mind in a turmoil. God, what a huge cock. How would this enormous thing feel driving hard up inside her belly? she wondered. Wider and wider the young woman's eyes grew as she stared at that mighty obscene shaft dangling and dripping just a few feet away from her, crazy images beginning to flicker through her mind of that hairy body possessing hers as even Lobo could not, locked to her in totally depraved embrace. Just then the German Shepherd whimpered pleadingly, and that did it. Bruno wanted her – his need was as great as hers!
With a little moan of surrender the sweet-bodied brunette rolled over onto her hands and knees, her full rounded buttocks swaying provocatively before the big animal's hungry gaze.
"Oh, fuck me, baby," Tanya moaned back over her shoulder. "Fuck me with your big beautiful animal cock." Staring in trembling anticipation, Tanya watched Bruno move eagerly forward, approaching her lewdly offered ass-cheeks. Once again that cool nose slid between her naked thighs, checking, checking. Would he do it? Did he know what she meant? Suddenly the last coherent thought was torn from the crouching woman's mind as Bruno licked out with his tongue, splaying it through the pinkly quivering slit that waited before him, digging deep, deep this time up into Tanya's wetly flowering vagina, preparing the way for his ultimate penetration.
Tanya's breath caught in her throat and she no longer thought of the right or wrong of what she was doing. She knew what it was like, for another dog, Lobo, had taught her. And this wonderful tongue had once again captured her, making her the dog's willing slave. Dropping down on her elbows, her head pillowed on her arms, the moaning gasping woman knelt in abject depravity before the licking slavering animal, aware only of the raging need flaring out of control deep up between her thighs. On and on the dog licked, six, eight, ten times, she never knew. Then suddenly she felt his paws on her back, his strong hairy forelegs locking around her tiny waist as the big dog easily mounted her buttocks. She could feel his hind legs dancing in close, the first touch of his hot swollen penis sliding over her trembling thighs. But he was too low! Desperately the moaning Tanya spread her knees apart, opening her thighs wider to the dog's advance, wanting that mighty organ to pound up inside her frantically convulsing vagina. Slipping and dancing, the sharp tip slid tantalizingly over her swollen cunt lips, searching for its hot, humid goal, but women are built differently than female dogs and the big German Shepherd seemed to be having trouble finding his way.
Sobbing desperately, Tanya shifted her buttocks from side to side, trying to trap Bruno's penis with her hungrily nibbling pussy, but it was no use. Once, the tapered tip caught at the entrance to her rectum and tried to enter, but in instinctive fear Tanya twisted away from that unwanted impalement.
Looking to the side, Tanya could see what an obscene picture they made in the full length mirror across the room. The mirror was a little behind her and she could not help noticing the lewd contrast of the dog's bright scarlet cock against her own fever-pink pussy-lips that so desperately wanted to be invaded.
Bruno hunched in a little closer and this time his blindly thrusting cock slid underneath to rub maddeningly up and down inside the young woman's hot wet cuntal slit, the whole top side of his massive red shaft swallowed up by her rich brown pussy hair.
"Oh God," Tanya cried out in frustration as that powerful instrument teased the full length of her warmly secreting pussy, torturing her already aroused clitoris to a new and painful hardness. This was driving her mad! she thought to herself, and sobbing in frustration, the panting young brunette reached back under her body to take Bruno's penis in her cool fingers, guiding it firmly up towards her waiting vagina. Bruno whined as he felt the pressure around his throbbing member but he let her guide it right up to the passion-drenched entrance to her vagina.
"Fuck me now, baby… fuck me hard!" Tanya begged, and Bruno did.
Sensing he was now at his long goal, the huge dog only did what nature demanded. He fucked forward! He surged ahead on his powerful legs, driving the gleaming scarlet shaft like a relentless spear deep up into the softly waiting depths before him, never stopping until his hairy balls slapped hard against Tanya's aching clitoris. Then, as soon as he knew he was all the way in, Bruno began to fuck dog-style, driving rapid machine-gun bursts up into Tanya's quailing pussy.
Tanya's eyes opened wide in shock as that first thundering thrust tore all the way up into her pussy. It was like a baseball bat, a huge tearing cudgel of animal maleness! She grunted, not knowing whether it hurt or felt good but knowing it would take a little getting used to. Bruno, though, gave her no chance. Wham, wham, wham, he pounded into her unprepared body, sinking a little deeper each time into her lust-moistened cuntal flesh.
"Aaaaaaagggghhhhh," Tanya moaned in agony, her last inner defences crumbling before that cruel relentless attack. She tried to crawl forward on the bed to escape the agony that threatened to tear her loins wide open, but Bruno danced along after her, his forelegs holding tight to her waist. An angry growl came from his throat and she knew he wasn't about to let her go.
The young woman had known only a few cocks in her life, but never before had she felt so filled, able to feel every inch of that huge fleshy pole as it stretched her to the bursting point, digging to depths no man had ever reached before. It was clear to Tanya that she was going to have to stick it out to suffer under this agonizing impalement until Bruno emptied his savage balls far up inside her heaving belly, his passion finally spent. Searching for any way to ease the terrible pain, the desperate young woman opened her thighs a little wider, hoping to give Bruno a straighter easier path up into her pussy, at the same time trying to relax her vaginal muscles so that she might open up more to his cruel instinctive thrusts. And it worked. Almost immediately the pain eased as Tanya stopped trying to fight the irresistible probe sliding mercilessly up into her wide-stretched cunt.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhh," the young brunette moaned in relief, her features softening. For long moments she crouched before the furiously humping animal, content that the pain was lessening, and then, it began to feel good. Little by little Tanya's eyes glazed over in a blind stare of passionate acceptance as she crouched in helpless submission before her animal lover. Without warning, almost as if they were acting on their own, her hips began a mindless automatic motion back against the lewdly invading dog-cock, first in little circles, then in hard jarring thrusts straight back into Bruno's straining loins while she mewled and moaned in lascivious pleasure.
Oh God, Tanya thought. She'd really been missing this, since Lobo had introduced it to her. What power and wild animal strength this big dog had as he poured his molten flesh into her delighted body! Compared to some of the tired and effete members of the intellectual cocktail crowd she had slept with lately, Bruno was a genuine fucking machine, pounding into her with all the vigor of a lust-driven nineteen year old boy and the strength of a tiger.
The well-filled woman tried to look back under her kneeling body to watch that scarlet rod of dog-flesh pounding up into her twitching cunt, but all she could see was Bruno's hairy balls swinging lewdly down between her open legs, each sharp slap giving her additional jolts of wild pleasure. Reaching back between her thighs with one hand, Tanya circled her fingers around Bruno's hot slippery penis as it flashed in and out between her sensitively throbbing cunt lips, feeling it slide far up her shuddering pussy. At the same time the lewdly excited woman ground her knuckles gratifyingly into her own moist cuntal flesh, savoring the meeting of her own genitals and the powerful dog's.
Looking once more over toward the mirror, the sweating, panting, moaning woman felt a rush of obscene pleasure wash over her as she looked at the depraved picture they formed together: she, pale-skinned and naked, and this madly humping animal, his long tongue lolling out from between his fangs as he fucked her like the bitch she was. Just the thought of the very forbiddingness of what she was doing added new dimensions to the erotic signals radiating out from Tanya's plundered cuntal depths. It was so… so… obscene, she thought in amazement while the ever-growing lust spread throughout her shamelessly used body.
"Oooohhhh, ooohhhhh, oooohhhhhh," she chanted out each time she moved her buttocks back against Bruno's hard-driving loins. Never, never, never had she felt so passionately involved in being fucked, the half-crazed woman dimly realized, completely enraptured by the wonderful animal-fucking she was receiving from behind. One last time she turned to look at the mirror, fascinated by the sight of her own soft pink inner flesh pulling out of her vagina with Bruno's cock on the out-stroke, only to be pounded back up inside as he once again jerked forward. Dazedly she faced back forward, lost in lust, her mind wandering, the only reality in the world being that huge machine thundering up into her eagerly accepting cunt. Cock, cock, cock. Cock was all that mattered; that huge vicious dog-cock, that obscene scarlet shaft, that incredible giver of pleasure.
Sensing his new friend's arousal, Bruno redoubled his efforts, encouraged into new energy by the complete acceptance of the woman before him, jolting her forward each time he thrust up into her hotly clinging cunt. "Uuuuhhhhnnnn," she grunted each time his powerful loins thudded against her flexing ass-cheeks, his huge fleshy pole seeming to penetrate up through her body until it felt as if it were going to pierce clear up through her belly. Bracing herself as best she could, Tanya opened her thighs even wider, stretching her whole pubic area wide until she thought she would split wide open, spreading herself to a degree she had never before thought possible so that she could gain the full benefit of the animal's enormously enlarged shaft, revelling in the feel of that heated rock-hardness smashing past her tender pussy lips on its relentless journey up into her most secret depths.
The dark-haired beauty was slowly turning into a raving sex-starved maniac, moaning and cursing and pleading with the slaving animal to fuck her like she'd never been fucked before. Yes, yes, her orgasm was almost here now, but she fought it off, wanting to make this last, wanting to build up to a peak so high that it would take her forever to come down from it.
"Fuck me, fuck me doggie! Fuck your big cock into me! Cum in me… cum in me… fill me with your animal cum."
The twitching, writhing, panting young woman was all but unrecognizable now, her face distorted into a twisted but somehow oddly beautiful mask of pure unadulterated lust. All her sexual fantasies were being fulfilled – she was being used and degraded and enslaved beyond her wildest imaginings. Strange forgotten masochistic emotions welled up from her unconscious, making her flesh shiver with forbidden delights while she let her mind dwell on the terrible nature of the act she was performing. Never before had the sex act seemed more lust-filled, more carnal to her as she made her body a willing receptacle for the thrusting red penis of a brute animal who fucked into her as if she were only another animal. Yes, her animal nature had triumphed today, she thought dizzily as she humped before her furry lover like any female beast of the jungle.
Driven almost mad by the pummelling of her clitoris by Bruno's balls, Tanya reached back desperately with one hand in an attempt to soothe the wonderful agony between her legs, the tip of her middle finger pressing down hard on the swollen little nerve-button. That was the final trigger her sex-flooded body needed, and the stunned young woman suddenly felt as if a heavy fist had thudded into her stomach as all her muscles contracted in a wild delightful spasm, her buttocks flexing and hollowing as her clenching pussy began to suck and pull on Bruno's throbbing cock.
"Aunnnnggggghhhhh!" she moaned, half-blinded by the power of her own long-awaited orgasm. The shaking young woman was dimly aware of her animal-lover's blood-engorged cock swelling to greater and greater dimensions under the obscene stimulation of her powerfully milking vagina. Suddenly the dog's searing animal cum began to jet far up into her innermost depths, flooding her with that obscene warmth she knew so well. The gasping brunette had a split second to think how different it felt from a man's orgasm, more like one long powerful squirt that seemed to tunnel a molten path right through her quivering insides, and then this last realization exploded her mind in a great flare of colored lights as she started to cum all over again.
Bruno held tight to the crazily bucking woman as she gurgled out a long moan of sensual pleasure, all the time emptying his sperm-bloated canine testicles into her wildly gyrating body as she knelt before him in unashamed depravity. Tanya wailed and thrashed as she pressed her hungrily milking mouth back against the spurting animal cock as if afraid to let one precious drop of the lustful fluid escape. The thick white liquid gushed out from around where her madly working cunt clasped tight around Bruno's jerking member, running in sticky trails down her convulsing thighs to drip onto the white sheets below.
Finally, one last powerful shudder passed through the sobbing young woman's exhausted body in final release and she fell limply forward onto the sperm-soaked bed to lie in a sodden heap, Bruno's fast-shrinking cock slipping wetly from her pussy with a soft lewd sucking sound.
For long moments the panting woman lay still, her lovely face buried in the big dog's soft fur, trying desperately to regain her breath. Then she became aware of a strange titillation against her buttocks, and lifting her head to look in the mirror, she saw that Bruno was slowly licking their combined sex-juices from her naked loins, his tongue sliding over her ass-cheeks to dip obscenely down into her still oozing cuntal slit, the big animal obviously savoring the exotic tastes of spent passion.
Tanya let her head drop wearily back down onto the bed as Bruno's gentle lickings soothed the last dregs of sexual tension from her much-used body. She opened her thighs as wide as possible to let his cleansing tongue reach the very top of her aching slit, soothing rather than exciting her this time, seeming to heal her ravished pussy-flesh.
At last her animal lover had licked her clean and lay down gratefully beside her, his big head resting fondly on the swell of her buttocks. For nearly a half-hour they lay that way, in a stupor of erotic fulfilment feeling the warmth of the huge dog's now familiar body. Finally Tanya rolled over and sat up, patting the big animal affectionately on the head.
Finally, she shakily dressed and went to the door. It was locked!
Liz sat down again and smiled at Rodney. He was handsome, if a bit thin, and appeared to have a certain inner strength. She smiled again and he smiled back.
When she had begun to wonder about Tanya's delay in the bathroom, she had gone to have a look, and finding the bathroom unoccupied and hearing a sigh from behind the other door, gently and silently pushed it open. There she saw the young woman spread-eagled on the satin sheets, and then eagerly scrambling to turn over and present her plump, creamy buttocks to Bruno, who must have come in silently through the always-open window.
Lobo had come back to Liz not long ago with his now grown and motherless puppies in tow. She had got to know them well, and they were welcome company for her in her enforced loneliness. The window opened onto the woods bordering the town, and she never closed that window except on cold nights, so her faithful and loving friends could come and go, safely, as they pleased. She had had a bolt installed on the bedroom door to keep the dogs separated from the guests, though of late guests had become a rare pleasure for Liz. When she had seen big Bruno mount the excited young female's uplifted bottom, she had silently closed the door and locked it. Maybe now Tanya wouldn't mind a bit of male-swapping; she was surely taking her liberties with Liz's bed and Bruno.
"It looks like Tanya took off on a walk in the woods, Rodney," Liz told him, moving over to sit beside him on the couch.
"Must have got bored with the conversation," Rodney said. "Journalism isn't really her thing. I just thought she was curious to meet you, as a friend of DesirЋe's. Tanya's a good wife and a darling girl, but her attention span isn't very long."
Liz smiled again, her arm on the back of the sofa and her fingertips brushing Rodney's shoulder lightly. "Guess not. Would you like a drink?"
Rodney smiled, feeling that he had finally won her over. "A G and T will do."
Liz got up and poured some wine for each of them. "You know, it gets a bit lonely here for me, being blamed for that dog pack out scaring people. I didn't send Lobo after Nancy Pace – if it really was him that did it – but I'm getting blamed for it. As if I would, or could, send a dog out to rape a girl. I've been the leper of Pickford's Meadows for the last two months, and it isn't much fun. DesirЋe used to come and see me often."
"Did she know anything about this dog's sexual propensities?"
"Who, Dez?" Liz laughed. "Oh, she's so sweet and lily white, she couldn't even listen when I told her the truth. That was after Nancy's accident. No, she knew nothing beforehand."
Liz sat down and draped her arm across the back of the sofa again, letting one tiny fingernail touch the back of Rodney's neck. Would he be game, thinking that Tanya was out walking in the woods? Most men would be, with a woman as nice looking as Elizabeth Clark.
"Wouldn't you like to get a bit more comfortable while we talk?" Liz asked, her wide eyes belying any salacious intentions. Rodney felt torn between the natural hesitation of a married man to be alone with so alluring a female as Liz and the reluctance to leave. She purred through her slightly moistened lips.
She placed a friendly, warm hand on his leg – not too low, nor so high as to warn him, scare him off, just at the place mid-leg where a hand might touch innocently. But Rodney felt her electric contact, and his mouth went dry. "I… I really don't know if I should."
"Do you have anything planned for right now? I wouldn't think a wife like Tanya would mind."
"Well, no, not really. I…" he looked at her, weakening, and bit his lip. "I don't know if it would be right, that's all."
Liz laughed lightly, like a spring nymph enjoying the morning dew.
"Oh, you men, always thinking about your wives!" She chuckled again with a lilting, teasing manner. She moved like a lithe cat, her breasts pushing against the fabric of her dress. "Don't worry, Rodney, I won't bite. Tanya's the one that took off into the woods and I'm sure she won't be back for a good hour."
The reference to his wife made Rodney jerk on the sofa. His heart hammered like the wings of a frightened bird. "What about my wife?" he said in a halting voice.
"Nothing, Rodney," Liz said innocently. "It's just that so many nice men like you place their wives in ivory towers, and stop considering them flesh and blood. Sometimes," she added with a rueful almost ironic smirk, "it can be a rude awakening."
How true. How God-damned true, Rodney glumly thought. Liz hit the nail on the head. And what the devil, why shouldn't he relax for a while with this delightful, sexy young woman? Surely no harm would be done.
"All right, you convinced me, Liz," he said, and his heart suddenly felt free, for in the three years of marriage he hadn't so much as looked at another woman much less been with one alone and socially.
It was just as Liz said, he had placed his wife in the realm of the gods, and lately had been neglecting her for this Pulitzer Prize he seemed to be chasing. His entire neglect of Tanya had been inconsiderate, and now there was the possibility that she didn't consider Rodney worth hanging around for anymore. But then again, why was she so frivolous about his job. Didn't she know that this was what he had to do to support them?
Liz's living room was wrapped in low light and the quiet mood of the country morning. There was a heady scent of musky perfume in the air – not unusual for a woman's house in this town, but it nevertheless tickled Rodney's nostrils, making him quiver with unexplained lightheadedness. He grinned as he sipped his wine. Hell, there was no use denying it, for all of Liz's mystery, she was a very sensual, very attractive woman. Her modest dress was all the more appealing to him, for that meant she wasn't just a promiscuous bitch in heat, but considered the men in her life as important and desirable for their minds and affections as their ability in bed.
My God! Stop this kind of lewd thinking! Rodney felt ashamed as Liz talked innocently from the kitchen while making the drinks. How wrong he was about her character never entered his head; the setting, the actions, the whole web she had designed to lure and capture were too cleverly done; the stage backdrop was authentic, only the woman who starred in the leading role wasn't. Rodney chastised himself for harboring lewd thoughts about Liz Clark's love life – for all he knew she was a virgin. There was no evidence that she had ever had any kind of perverted relationship with any dog. Hell, the next thing he knew, he'd be getting romantic intentions about her, and just because she had offered him up a drink certainly didn't give him the right to entertain overheated and wicked notions. The shock of realizing that he was contemplating what she would be like in bed was enough to scare him.
"I see you made yourself comfortable, Rodney," Liz said, walking in from the kitchen with two full glasses. "Slip off your shoes if you want."
"Oh… no, no this is fine," he replied and took the proffered glass. "Mmmm," he said after tasting the gin and tonic.
"You like? I make them strong, because that's the way I like them."
"Excellent, Liz." He looked around the apartment in obvious appreciation. "You certainly have a fine place here."
"Thanks to my ex-husband," she said with a touch of girlish sarcasm. "He left me flat, with no money and no warning. All I had after he ran off was what you see here."
"You were married?" he asked inanely.
"Too long," she replied. "And never again. Couples lie to each other more than strangers do, I think."
Her comment raised the image of Tanya again, sweetly cooing her affection for her husband. He shook his head and drank heavily. Well, one thing was clear; Liz was no virgin, having been married, and Rodney bet mentally that this sexy young woman was one holy terror in bed. Just watching how she walked and smiled and smelled was irrefutable testimony to that.
"Excuse me, will you, Rodney?" Liz asked, jumping up. "I want to get cleaned up and out of this old stuffy work dress. Do you mind!"
"No… no, of course not…" Rodney blinked, for her "old work dress" was anything but stuffy – not with that second skin look it had as it clung to her voluptuous young body, and the way it stretched around her firm pointed breasts and ripe thighs. But he knew how women love to get rid of the reminders that they have to work; when Tanya had been a salesgirl in a local department store during their first, poverty-stricken years of marriage, she'd been the same way.
Liz kept the door of her bedroom open so that she could continue to talk to Rodney as she changed. He could hear the zip as she took her dress off, and he quickly drowned his imagination of her standing naked in there, a few feet away, by swallowing his gin and tonic. He looked down at his glass again, embarrassed. How stupid he'd feel if the lovely woman in the next room knew he was thinking such things? He drained his glass, and as the gin swirled in his stomach and fused through his blood, a strange confidence that he'd never possessed before seeped through him. He was a man, wasn't he? Why shouldn't he be excited by the lascivious thoughts of a pretty young woman naked?
Rodney Foster was stunned by Liz Clark's change into "something more comfortable". She wore short-shorts of bright red, so tight that her pubic mound and its teasing little cuntal cleft was impressed on the cloth between her white thighs. Her long, statuesque legs, bronzed from the summer sun, were bare and curvaceous, and her belly was just as tanned and nude between the band of her shorts and her strained halter. Her breasts quivered, barely concealed by the thin halter, and Rodney could almost make out her nipples. Her sparkling green eyes sparkled vivaciously and with a hint of fire.
She moved panther-like to the couch. "You finished your drink. I'll make you another." She seemed to catch his wide-eyed stare for the first time. "What's the matter, Rodney? I plan to go out and suntan after you leave. I hope this isn't too much for you." She smiled slyly as she undulated toward the kitchen. "Don't forget, I won't eat you."
She didn't add the word she was thinking: "Yet."
Before he could protest, Liz was back out of the kitchen, gin bottle in hand, glasses full of ice and tonic. "I thought it would be better if we made them out here from now on, don't you?" She didn't wait for his strangled reply, but sat down very close to him and crossed one slim, tanned leg over the other, tightening the material of her shorts until the pulsating slit of her pussy was sharply defined, and as she mixed his drink and handed it back to him, she leaned forward so that a good deal of her creamy, globular breasts were exposed to him – with just the bare hint of her ruby colored and rock hard nipples. He felt a flush creep up his neck. Yet he was unable to take his eyes off her provocative lushness. Like it had a life of its own, his cock gave a tentative spasm against his underpants, and his testicles contracted with a lewd spark of excitement. Quickly he took a long pull on his gin and tonic.
Liz chuckled to herself, knowing the effect that her actions as well as the liquor were having on his normally cautious, unassailable character. She drank from her glass, savoring the juniper taste of the gin and the bitterness of the tonic; alcohol increased her own sexual fervor, too, though she could control herself if she was so inclined; now that she was with Rodney Foster.
Yes, she mused, Mr. Rodney Foster was hers, no mistake about that, even if he didn't know about it yet. She felt the initial droplets of her lubricants begin to flow from the sensitive walls of her vagina as she considered what would be taking place within the next hour. Brother, was she going to have this guy fuck her… it would be one fuck he'd never forget, after her being so long an outcast in Pickford's Meadows!
Rodney felt a warm lethargy overtake him as he drank his third gin and tonic. The quickly swallowed drinks were doing exactly what he had hoped the liquor would do – help him forget his troubles, and if he got drunk, all the better as far as he was concerned. And of course it wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity to get looped with a young vivacious woman as lovely and sensual as Liz Clark. She was really something, he thought admiringly. How could any husband ever leave her? She exuded pure animal sex dressed in that tiny halter and shorts; a sudden change from the demure secretary to a teasing, alluring woman of the flesh, with a miasma of sexual fire encompassing her as she walked, talked, breathed.
What he'd like to do right now, right this very minute if he wasn't married, was to take Liz in his arms and kiss her, touch her firm, proud breasts… oh, nothing more than that, he hastily added to his thoughts; he wouldn't fuck her or anything – but God she was so damned desirable, so damned hot-looking! He moistened his lips with the cool liquid of his drink, already mentally kissing her soft, coral lips, caressing her vibrating white breasts and tweaking the pink rimmed nipples he could almost see.
Rodney's lust-provoked cock spasmed with hunger and strained for release against his restraining band of cloth. He tried to banish the lecherous thoughts which were overheating his mind, but in spite of his anguish, his rigid penis remained hard and blood swollen. His eyes went to Liz's face. In turn, the provocative, lurid little prostitute lowered her eyes and focused on the bulge at Rodney's loins. She grinned again, this time more forcefully. "You like me," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "I can tell."
"I… well, that is…" Rodney stammered, knowing instantly what she was referring to – the unquenchable erection burning his pants.
Liz laughed throatily. Now it was time to be the feline, now was the time to cast aside her chaffing role of the lonely divorcee and become the uncontrolled hedonist, the lover of passion and sex. "Don't be ashamed of your hard-on, Rodney. I've been married, remember? I know how it is with a man."
"Liz, I'm sorry. Really I am. I better leave."
"No! Don't!" she demanded in a husky voice, her mouth and eyes so close to Rodney's face. "You think that just because we girls don't have penises, we don't get excited? We show it differently, and maybe not so obviously as your stiff cock…"
"Liz!" Rodney gasped, shocked at the lewd words.
"Cock, Rodney. You have a big hard cock, and it's because you want to fuck me, isn't it? That's why you're breathing as hard as I am and squirming in your seat and are all red in the face. You want to take your clothes off and fuck me!"
"Oh, God!" Rodney groaned, gasping for air like a stranded fish. His penis was palpitating wildly, and his brain reeled with the heady combination of gin and sex. Had he heard her correctly? Had this quiet lonely woman been telling him that he was wanting to fuck her with his cock? And what was the matter with him? He was thinking the same filthy words! Lord, his testicles were aching with the pressure of his sperm as if he really was that crude and debased as to take advantage of her. Didn't she know what her obscene use of the words were doing to him? He took another swallow of his never-empty drink and found that he could hardly hold the glass in his trembling hand. He must leave… get out before they were both sorry for what he might do in a sudden impulsive move. But he was rooted to the couch.
Liz leaned closer, her breath a white-hot fire brand on his cheeks and she touched his thigh lightly, her fingertips seething with desire, searing the cloth. "I can tell you're married, Rodney. What's your wife like?"
Rodney was taken aback for a moment. What was there to say about himself and Tanya? Before he could gather the semblance of a reply, Liz went on.
"It doesn't matter, Rodney," she said, "but I can tell by the way you reacted that you've got problems at home. Is your sex life what it used to be?"
"Tanya's a very capable sex partner," Rodney said, stiffly.
"Then it must be my first guess. She could be being very capable with somebody else." Liz shrugged, her breasts in marvellous profile. "My husband was fucking around on me all the time." She was almost nuzzling his cheek now, and her voice was sugar in his fevered ears. "We've both been lashed by the same whip. So let's lash back and have a little fun in the bargain."
"Liz… for God's sake!"
"You want to fuck me… and I want you to, only I don't have a big cock to get hard to show you. I just have to show you anyway I can!" Her breasts pressed hotly, softly against his arm and her lips found his jaw line and traced a pattern upward along his cheek, leaving a trail of molten fire along his skin. She let her hand on his thigh slide up higher.
Until she touched the throbbing bulge of his penis.
Rodney almost leapt off the couch in convulsive reaction. Liz stroked his encased but sensitive penis, and though he tried to pull back, she was sliding closer, increasing the rhythm of her strokings. Guilt welled up in Rodney, engulfed him in a wave of nausea at what was about to happen, and he tore himself free, standing up and trying to control his trembling, nerve-blistered emotions.
"What's the matter, Rodney?" Liz asked casually, standing beside him, slipping her hands over him and running freely over his lithe, rippling flesh. "Attack of the conscience? Thinking of your wife?"
"Yes-yes," Rodney managed, averting his eyes from her lustful figure. "What we were going to do is wrong, Liz. It was crazy, and… all wrong."
"I don't think so," she purred. "Where's you wife now? Does she support you in your profession, or trip off into the woods the minute she gets a little impatient or bored? But, Rodney, you lovely man, I've been alone for months here and I've got to have you! I want your big, hard cock fucking up inside my cunt, Rodney." Her lewd salaciousness seared a path of lust across Rodney's mind.
"I love my wife," he moaned.
"Sure you do. And you'll go home to her and be very happy. But that doesn't have anything to do with her, with now, with fucking."
Rodney's heart hammered violently in his chest and his prick was granite hard and seeping hot smears of his male seminal fluids. In gathering panic he told himself that he had to get control of the situation, that he couldn't bear to hear any more. That no matter what, he couldn't do it! No matter what Tanya was doing, he wasn't justified in fucking this woman, as hot and lustful and desiring as Liz was.
Liz's voice whispered huskily from behind him. "Rodney, honey…"
He turned, gathering his courage to say what had to be said, but when he saw her the words froze in his throat. She stood before him, completely nude. She had unhooked her halter and stepped out of her brief shorts, and the clothing made a brilliant puddle at her bare feet. She stood with her legs spread apart, her head and shoulders pulled back, and her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, bronzed hips. She was smiling at his shocked expression, her teeth slightly bared and the pink, wet tip of her tongue showing. The moist, petal-like lips of her now naked vagina were presented in all their pink-tinged loveliness, and the soft light of the apartment splashed across the perfectly round, white breasts which jutted from her like inviting, ruby-crested mountain peaks.
"Well, lover? What do you have to say now?"
He couldn't speak, only stare at her lewd, wanton pose – and his cock returned to its maddening pulsations in his pants. He was transfixed, captured totally by the strange, fascinating allure of this now purely sex-oriented female in front of him and the absolutely lustful sensuality of the scene he was part of.
Liz slid her fingers, slowly, teasingly, down from her hips, her hand grazing her soft resilient pubic hair and the wet, glistening slit between her thighs. She began to stroke her thin, hot vaginal slit, baring her writhing clitoris, and stroked her whole helplessly contracting cuntal channel, sending rivulets of her sexually aroused lubrications to dampen her white inner thighs.
"I want you to fuck me Rodney," she crooned in cadence to her rubbing fingers. "I want you to put that wonderful male cock in my pussy and fuck me until I scream… and then I'll suck your cock if you want… I'll milk your balls dry of all the delicious white cum you've got building in them. I want…" On and on she intoned and her words were perverted obscenities which made Rodney more frenzied than ever. Her fingers in the gaping crevice of her wet, pink cunt excited him to a peak he'd never known existed. As much as Tanya loved sex, loved to have him fuck her… she never once allowed herself to be so completely abandoned, so void of modesty or shyness. She never said such things, never stood before him in depraved splendor and played with her female genitals. Never!
"I can't help myself," Liz moaned abjectly. "You're too much a man for me… and it's been so long, so damned long…" She trembled and her eyes clenched shut and hot breath hissed through her clenched teeth. "Ohhhh, how can you stand there and not want me? What more do I have to do? Please… tell me you want to fuck me…"
Her last appeal, couched in the kind of girlish innocence which drove him wild, was far more exciting than a blatant, crude splash of sex from an over-experienced harridan. He saw Liz without a husband to soothe her inner cravings, as being driven to embarrassing and almost hysterical actions, and not realizing that he was the victim of a finely-tuned act on her part to use all of his emotional aspect, put out his heart to the girl and cried: "Yes, Liz, yes I want to fuck you!"
"How!" she mewled, almost staggering from the whipping of her hand in her open, lust spasming, wet cunt. "Tell me how!"
"Deep! Deep and hard like you've never been fucked before!"
"Oh, God, Rodney," she moaned. "Let's go in the bedroom and you get naked too before I die!"
A self-consciousness stole over Rodney as he dropped his pants and shirt, removed his shoes and socks and then slowly drew down his under pants while all the time Liz Clark lay on her double bed, her eyes riveted on his loins. As his rigid, frenzied penis stood out, she watched the blood-filled head for a moment and moaned: "I love your cock, Rodney. I know it's going to feel good fucking up inside me and twisting deep in my cunt. Oh, God, hurry! Hurry!"
He lay down on the bed beside her, dragging her over him with his arms, and moved one hand down to cup one smooth, white, quivering buttock. Her body was warm and soft against him, and as she raised her face to his and they kissed, their lips locked together tightly and her hand searched down between their bellies and closed around his rigid, swollen cock, making Rodney gasp. Liz crushed the whole length of her naked flesh against him and her lips were yielding and yet at the same time demanding, and she ground her pelvis into him until spasmodic chills were racing up and down his spine. Then she twisted and pulled him over her, opening her lovely, glistening white thighs wide so that he could plunge his penis between them and take her…
Liz's hand was still around Rodney's throbbing penis, and she guided it between the lips of her hot, desire-moistened vagina while he undulated his loins against her thighs in a slowly teasing rhythm. She moved his cock up and down between the pink lips of her pulsing cunt, parting her soft, wet pussy with his blood-filled, searching cock-head, and her pubic hairs grazed lightly against his sensitive skin, forcing the shaft to greater hardness until it ached excruciatingly. He couldn't hold back any longer; he'd been tantalized to the limit of his endurance – he flicked his hips forward and with a cruel thrust drove his erect penis into the gaping mouth of her defensively clenching pussy, and plummeted his thick, tender shaft up her cunt to the full depth of her quivering belly. Her spasming vaginal orifice was warm and tight around his rigid member, and then as he stroked in and out with powerful surges, lubricating wetness of the passage surrounded it, and his balls slapped hard against the rounded cheeks of her ass when finally he hit bottom.
"Oh, Rodney… honey, you feel sooo gooood!" Liz whispered, then smashed her lips against him and writhed the flatness of her belly up against him. Her nails trailed across his back, leaving small red welts in their path, and he in turn pushed his hands back and cupped her resilient, full buttocks in his palms and pulled her open crotch tighter to his expanding cock. He moved harder and faster, insinuating the hardness of his total length inside her widespread slit, sensing her increasing excitement and voluntary response with each passing second. Her hips and thighs rotated desperately against his loins, and she raised her slender legs and locked them tightly around his body, her calves pulling him inside her still more.
Rodney Foster was no longer the ambitious journalist in search of his first Pulitzer, or the husband of his lovely wife, Tanya. He was a wild, untamed beast, tasting sex for its own pure sake for the first time in his married life, the prurience of this immoral, lewd affair was driving him out of his mind, and his body strove to superhuman efforts as he worked to bring him and this animal of woman under him to magical crests of orgasm. He ground his loins into the squirming mass of flesh as Liz strained back, arching her back up and lifting her buttocks inches off the squeaking mattress. She moaned incoherently beneath his pounding cock, chanting the song of intercourse as old as the world itself, and her legs opened and closed convulsively around his strongly pumping thighs, her mouth gaped open, and her head flailed from side to side.
"Oh, God, yes! Yes! Make me scream, honey! Shove your finger in my ass! Damnit, do it, do it! Make me scream!"
Rodney reached between her rhythmically pumping buttocks as he drove his cock into the wetness of her smoothly grinding cunt and stretched the crevice of her ass wider, searching for the tiny puckered ring of her anus with his middle finder. He found it – and a small trickle of warm moisture running from the clasping warm fleshy glove of her vagina lubricating the sphincter muscle making his probe easier. He pushed against Liz's anus, felt it resist elastically, then with a little pop the nether ring opened, and he wormed his middle finger up to its first joint. Liz jumped forward, almost crawling on her back across the bed from the sudden impalement.
"AAAaaaahhhh! It hurts! Yes! That's it! Ohhh, it's so damned good!" She screwed her buttocks back on his finger in spite of the pain until his palm was flat against her mildly jiggling buttocks. He rotated his finger inside her rectum, and could feel through the thin wall of flesh separating her two passages the underside of his cock as he fucked in and out of her. She opened her legs wider to give him still more access to her ravished cunt and anus.
Rodney could feel his penis expand inside her until he was sure his throbbing hard rod was going to burst from the exquisite pleasure billowing in his testicles. He began ramming her with longer, harder strokes, his finger skewering her rectum to excite her more, and he could tell that she was near her climax as she gripped him tightly and gurgled deep in her throat from her abandoned spiralling to orgasm, and he continued to mercilessly thrust with all his might.
"I'm cumming, I'm cumming," Liz coughed suddenly, and mumbled incoherently until the sounds bubbling from her mouth were a mass of unintelligible syllables whose meaning was only known to herself. A low banshee wail pierced through the sounds of the squeaking springs and the two panting bodies slapping sweatily together, the young girl's nostrils flared, and she pulled back her thighs until the whole of her pink, cock stretched vaginal slit was presented to Rodney to batter and crush, while her stomach and breasts jerked spasmodically against his belly and chest. Then she held her breath for an interminable moment and expelled it as though hit in the gut, and her body collapsed limply onto the mattress, still save for uncontrolled quivering of her insatiable pussy which was still locked tightly around Rodney's surging prick. He saw that she had reached her release and he pushed deep inside her and then lay quiet, allowing her to rest for a moment.
It was all he could do to keep from screwing her more. God, he'd never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it before in his life! The muscles of his prick throbbed and ached deep in her belly, hoping to bring her to life again, but after long moments passed, a semblance of sanity returned as the first furious moments of sexual frenzy abated, and he knew that he should begin to feel waves of remorse and shame. But they weren't forthcoming, and strangely, he felt only like a full-blooded, virile male who had satisfied a true, sensual woman and who was still lusting for more. He felt a certain power and a much needed bolstering of masculine pride, his ego having taken a beating with lewd, horrid news that the editor Martin Olsen had told him.
Tanya… his lovely wife's name echoed in his mind and a small portion of Rodney tried again to make the guilt of this sensual orgy with a strange girl appear, but still nothing happened, for his faith in his wife had been torn asunder by the night and morning of devilish suspicions about her potential adultery. Perhaps it would come later, he thought, after he had time to think things out, but right now, all he could do was feel the warm heat of Liz's body, smell the musk of her perfume, and soak in the permeations of their lusts.
"God," Liz said, smiling sweetly, her voice drugged with momentary satiation, "I came but you haven't yet, lover."
"I will," he breathed hard. "Another fuck like that and I'll burst my balls." The ache of his testicles throbbed hotly.
"Roll over, and I'll suck your cock instead. Would you like that?"
"Yes… oh, yes!" He pulled back, sliding both his finger and his hardened cock out of her anus and pussy. He hated to, for he was so near to shooting his load of white, hot sperm up into her belly that he didn't want to stop, but he had to let her have her way. He rolled on his back, thin trails of their sexual secretions following his rigid shaft across her lower thigh, and then he lay tense and expecting, his blood-swollen penis pointing straight up toward the ceiling. As Liz Clark climbed up on her all-fours and bent her head over his cock and balls, her tongue moistening lips which were wide and trembling, Rodney knew that this was going to be an afternoon he would not soon forget.
Thirty minutes later, Liz was saying goodbye to Rodney at the door. He had made her feel like a woman again and she loved him for it. She trembled when she kissed him.
"Please don't stay away, Rodney," she purred. "You can come and interview me anytime. Just give me a call."
Rodney, feeling guilty enough to die, gave her a shy squeeze and a warm kiss, and walked out into the street, looking around to see if he had been observed with Liz at the door. Liz shut the door and smiled. She felt absolutely wonderful, having enjoyed the embrace of a man for the first time in so very long.
Then she turned back to the guest bedroom where she could hear Tanya trying to open the door. Her timing had been impeccable, Liz thought. While Tanya was being cock-hammered in the guest bedroom, Liz was being thoroughly loved in the master bedroom by Tanya's young and na•ve husband. Smiling a bit perversely, she opened the door.
Tanya looked startled and then ran for the bathroom. "Sorry, I took a wrong turn."
"How did you hold it for so long, Tanya?"
"I just couldn't open the door," the girl said, whipping up her dress and sitting on the toilet. "Excuse me, but I couldn't wait any longer."
Liz spoke from the open doorway. "Neither could Rodney." She smiled knowingly while Tanya's urine splashed into the bowl below her. "I told him you'd gone for a walk. He would have been shocked to know about you in the bedroom having sex with Bruno, Lobo's son."
Tanya froze, her eyes opening wide. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Liz laughed. "I know what I saw, Tanya, and I'm sure if we go in there now we'll find one huge puddle of dog sperm on my expensive satin sheets. How much you want to bet? And how'd you get the buttons torn off your blouse?"
Tanya covered her face with her hands. "Oh, my God, I'm so ashamed! I don't know what came over me." She began to cry. "I turned in there and he was there and I was afraid. I couldn't stop him."
"You couldn't stop him so you went right along with it." Liz helped the other girl to her feet. "Don't worry, darling. I won't tell a soul. Rodney's been neglecting you, working on this story, and my dogs are good substitutes for an absentee husband. Not as good as a really good man, like Mark Denning or Rodney or even Clete Anderson, but cleaner and better and sweeter smelling than most."
Liz led Tanya into the living room and gave her a gin and tonic from the same bottle she had poured from for Rodney.
"It looked to me like you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned around and presented him with you round little ass. Tell me, Tanya, was that your first time with a dog? You looked like you'd had prior experience."
Tanya dried her eyes and raised her chin defiantly. "All right, Liz, I'll confess. Another dog, Lobo came to me at the Mitchell house a few weeks ago. And to tell you the total truth, I loved it."
Liz sat looking at the young woman, an idea germinating in her mind. There was a way to get revenge on the town for the terrible way they were treating her. She knew that women weren't being raped by Lobo's pack of young dogs. They were mainly concerned with living, and she was certain that Lobo hadn't killed Johnny Canning. But things could change, she thought, considering the impressionable nature of Dusty, Sam, and Bruno. They could be trained, specially trained, to wreak revenge on the self-righteous and malicious citizens of Pickford's Meadows.
"Tanya," Liz said slowly. "I don't think you want Rodney to find out about what you did with Bruno and Lobo, do you?"
The younger girl shook her head vehemently. "Never, never, ever."
"Then I want your help in teaching my darlings a few new tricks. I think you like them, so you won't mind some more fun and games, if I promise to keep Rodney in the dark about all this."
"What I'd like to know, Clete," said Mark Denning pounding his fist on the wooden surface before him, "is why you haven't found hide nor hair of that damn dog Lobo."
The burly, black chief of police regarded the councillor across the imposing expanse of Mark's desk. It was strange how the white man's complacency about the wild dog pack had melted away in the last week and the councillor, slated to be the next state senator, was pushing to raise the reward on the dog pack leader's head to fifty thousand. That was fine with Clete, for he fully intended to be the one to bag that dog's hide and use the money to buy him and his young bride Nancy a new home and life here in Pickford's Meadows.
Nancy! She didn't deserve it, but a black man doesn't easily gain the affections of a beautiful white girl all that often, so he stayed with her, reserving her well-deserved beating for the future. Yes, Clete knew that she had fucked Mark Denning in his car out by the quarry, but ample revenge had been sought and obtained in drugging and possessing DesirЋe, the councillor's young bride of just a month, in an orgy arranged by Priscilla Devereaux. It had been the fulfilment of an obsessive dream that Clete had held ever since he had first laid eyes on the young, blonde choir girl. He knew now that he was hopelessly in love with DesirЋe Denning and he had every intention of having her again, even after his marriage to Nancy. And again. And again.
And he had the means to force her to submit to him, for the animalistic encounter had been filmed by Priscilla, and through a piece of hilarious subterfuge, Clete had obtained the video tape and the pictures from that evil young woman. He was sure that the devious bitch Priscilla intended to use the materials to manipulate and destroy DesirЋe with the purpose of wrenching Mark Denning out of his happy marriage to bring him back to her, but the police chief was not sure that that would serve his own purposes at the present time. He was certain that forcing DesirЋe into a sexual affair with himself would eventually destroy her marriage and her relationship with her husband, as it would wreck his own with Nancy, his wife-to-be. But Priscilla was bound and determined to rush into her nefarious plan and Clete needed more time to carry out his own in a way that would bind the girl to him, both sexually and emotionally. He had the seed of a plan, but he couldn't have Priscilla rushing things, for she had a different agenda from his. And, in good time, she could have Mark Denning for herself.
Clete often asked himself why he should want to marry Nancy Pace, young and beautiful though she was, when he was really in love with the angelic DesirЋe, but he knew that he needed Nancy, more than for just her body but also the respectability of being a member of a well-respected, if slightly less than fabulously rich, family. When she finally gave birth, he would be the husband and father of Paces and his standing in the community would be assured. Which meant that his planned affair with DesirЋe Denning would have to be conducted with discretion.
Even Clete's devious reasoning told him that his aspirations for making love to the lovely blonde music teacher and voice student were completely out of order, wrong, and impossible to bring to fruition. But it was an obsession, a romantic and sexual fantasy he lived in, made all the more concrete by his memories of that night, just days ago, of having the lovely blonde tripping on LSD, braced on all fours, and taking his big, black cock into her tender, pink cunt from behind. He had bathed her womb in his virile seed, in his own eyes making her his forever, whether or not she knew it or liked it. But he had to have her again soon or he knew he would begin taking his frustration out on Nancy in some way.
"You wanted the reward posted, Clete, so now that we've raised it and posted it and it's hanging there in front of your greedy nose, why haven't you caught the raping bastard?" Mark's eyes were blazing with a vehemence and fire that the black police chief had never seen. Why? Had he somehow found out about the night a month before their wedding when Lobo had broken in on the Canning gang's rape party and taken the pristine – or nearly so – maiden for himself? Or – and the thought filled him with a jealous fury even as he relished Mark's discomfort – had it happened again somehow? Had Lobo again taken his pleasure with that angel of the earth and temporarily turned her into a raving sex fiend with his giant canine cock? Yes, that was it! It must be! And Mark had walked in on the scene, had witnessed it somehow. So that he believed – finally – the threat posed by the dog pack. And wanted his own bloody revenge.
Clete shook himself. That must be it, and Lobo had defiled his beloved again. It was strange that he should have a common bond with the councillor he so hated, for the sake of the white man's wife. He had to grit his teeth to restrain himself from running amuck with a vengeful rage. No, it had to be done right, so that the kudos and the money would be his, all his, at the proper time, when DesirЋe would appreciate him as her protector and savior from a fate worse than – yes, let's face it – worse than death.
"I'm bringing in a tracker from Tennessee that can lead us to him next time he's spotted. He'll have to be paid out of the reward money, but we'll have to pay his expenses while he's hanging around waiting for his chance. Once we find him, I'll shoot Lobo."
"That's it, Clete," Mark said. "Slaughter the dirty, raping son of a bitch." And brought his fist down on the desk. At that moment, Clete could see his enemy's real anguish, and could almost feel sympathy for him.
Almost, but not quite. The chief of the police still intended to use his huge black cock on the man's new bride to vanquish the enemy that had made his job difficult and almost devoid of respect since he, Mark Denning had come to office and pushed his own ideas of law enforcement through the council. Clete fully intended to vote for Denning as state senator, just to get rid of him. Then with the help of the money he could make from his control of the two remaining members of the Canning drug "cartel", Clete would have no trouble rising to prominence and property in Pickford's Meadows.
The police chief stood up with a thin smile. "You got it, Councillor," he said, adjusting his gun belt. "One dead pack of dogs coming right up. I wouldn't want what happened to my Nancy to happen to anyone else, would you?"
Mark Denning answered with a silent, granite-like face, and Clete knew at that instant that, yes truly, Lobo had been back to DesirЋe for an encore and that her husband, Mr. Cool-Invulnerable of the Pickford's Meadows Town Council, had somehow found out or witnessed the event.
"Yeah, you got it, Councillor," Clete reassured him, fighting not to laugh in the young white man's face, even as he wept inside for DesirЋe. The girl would need some serious purging after a visit from Lobo, and Clete had every intention of helping her with it.
Yes, he sure did.
"Let's not be late, DesirЋe," Mark said dryly as he tied his tie before the bedroom mirror. "Sid Buchanan is the last obstacle to my nomination and I don't want anything to go wrong with this deal. He's got to be satisfied that I'm the man he wants in the legislature. From there, I've got all the funding I need and then the sky's the limit."
"Marvelous," DesirЋe said softly but without enthusiasm. Mark was still cold toward her and avoided looking directly at her. And since the night with Lobo, he had not shown the slightest interest in making love with her. Not the slightest, and she needed it so much. Not just any sex, but sex with him, Mark, the only man she had ever loved in her life. If only she could now clasp his hot body between her thighs, his penis in her vagina, to milk the creamy, life-giving fluids from his body, to give him the baby he wanted, to make them a complete family! But now he seemed so far away, and her womb burned with desire for him, to make her whole again, to show her that he forgave her for what the vile dog Lobo had done to her. Politics meant so little to her while she was hurting so badly inside.
DesirЋe applied her usual light make-up so as not to dull the natural healthy pink glow of her skin and lips, glancing frequently at Mark's cold profile. When would he learn to forget so that she could forget?
It was early afternoon and soon they would be leaving to go upstate to see this Sid Buchanan, about whom she had heard so much lately, one of the state's premier fat cats and kingmakers. The tentacles of his wealth and influence spread all the way back to Washington. The influence grew from the money and the money grew from his business interests in banking, defence, food, and real estate. There were few politicians brave enough to tell him no, and Mark was not among those few, not yet. So when his time came to meet Buchanan and do what was necessary to curry favor, he answered the call dutifully. The time had come to show Big Sid how the powers that be would feel about Mark Denning in the state legislature and what prospects there were for his becoming a US Senator some time in the future, near or far.
DesirЋe looked at her beloved. She really was proud of him, so why couldn't he be proud of her? She had dedicated her life to him; why couldn't he forget something that had been forced on her against her will?
Putting the finishing touches to her make-up and shaking out her thick, blonde, and, for tonight, iron-curled hair, she smoothed the blue satin of her dress down over her perfect figure, her fingertips lingering on her flat belly. Was there, perhaps, a baby in there? Oh, she hoped so. Mark's baby! It would bring them together again like nothing else could, she just knew it.
Mark led her outside and put her into the Mercedes he would be driving. It would be a late night and they would not have to drive back but would stay in a guest room in Big Sid's opulent mansion. They had packed their overnight things. There would be other people there as well, other influential men. DesirЋe prepared herself for a long night of being on her very best behavior. Glancing at Mark's cold profile, she prayed for respite for the pain and deprivation she was feeling. Oh, Mark, I love you so much! Please make love to me the way you used to!
At that moment, as the big car pulled away from the lovely, new home, two pairs of eyes watched from a parked car a short way down the street. One of them, Billy Canning, lowered his binoculars and spoke through his teeth to his companion. "That's her, Sam," he said, taping on Sam Quaid's knee. "That's the little bitch that got my brother murdered."
"Who, sweet little DesirЋe Mitchell? She wouldn't hurt anybody. Couldn't even fight us off that night."
"Not her. It was Anderson, that black son of a bitch. John fucked her and Clete found out about it. I saw the wounds at the morgue. No dog could make tears in a body like that. Looked more like a bear. But there's no bears hereabouts, even though somebody – Clete – planted dog hair all around. Any idiot could tell it was all phoney, but Clete was investigating his own crime and that means no one was looking too damn fucking close."
"What makes you think it was Clete," Sam asked. "He's a buddy of ours, and tight with Johnny, he was."
"I know, man, I know." Billy twisted his hair in anguish. "But I know he's got the hots for the bitch. That night, Johnny was taking him some shit to use on her to get her high so he could fuck her. And remember how he wanted us to plant some in her bedroom? That was so he could get her in his power. Didn't work, and he blew his cork. Remember?"
Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, yeah, I think you're right. So what do we do? Take a gun and shoot the bastard?"
Billy shook his head. "No way. I'm not shooting no cops, no way. We'd never see the light of day again. But the bitch, I say we get some revenge through her. Clete's crazy about the bitch, and whatever happens to her he feels quite hard, right in his pants."
"So what? What do we do? Kill the bitch? Cut her up and deliver Clete the parts in one of his sheriff's uniforms?"
Billy smiled. "That's a damn good idea. Let's think about it. That and, maybe, plant some drugs in Clete's office at the local station. Get him sent away for twenty and send him Christmas cards every year. Yeah, good idea." Billy began to laugh. It was the manic laugh of a nervous personality driven by grief for the death of his brother, unobservant of the fact that that brother was a source of misery in a miserable world and worse than worthless in this community of decent, religious people.
When they arrived at the Buchanan mansion in the hills outside the capital, a servant took their bags and showed them to one of the twenty-five luxurious guest rooms upstairs. Mark seemed apprehensive, as well he might be at first meeting the man that might ultimately be able to make him or break him. Of course, the young politician could always run a grassroots campaign against the odds, without special interest or industrial "contributions" and support, but chances of success were virtually nil. Such an effort would be like an ant trying to move a rubber tree plant, without Frank Sinatra's encouragement.
After the long drive, DesirЋe decided she needed another shower, and while Mark tidied up she went into the gold-plated and marbled bathroom, shed her slightly sticky clothes, and stepped toward the shower stall. She caught a glimpse of herself in a large mirror over the dressing counter and stopped. She saw her body, slightly tanned to a creamy olive, blessed with large breasts, wide at their base and slightly conical near the flushed, pink tips, though globular and heavy but without the fall of gravitational strain. The nipples were distended and glowing with her unfulfilled sexuality, peeking out over her flat belly that flowed smoothly into her fat, lushly-furred labia. She turned and her breasts jiggled in concert with her buttocks, lately now a bit plumper and more loaf-like since her wedding day. She had not had regular exercise since then, and she resolved to get back to the gym as soon as they returned to Pickford's Meadows.
DesirЋe turned on the shower and started soaping her delicious flesh, her hand lingering at the sticky vaginal crease momentarily before seeing to her breasts and underarms. Hearing the door open, she pulled the shower door ajar and peeked out. Mark was beginning to shave.
"How about coming in here with Dezzy," she said suggestively, pushing her great tits forward.
Mark swung to face her and saw those adorable nipples and the warm muff of her pussy and for a moment his face softened and he smiled, just slightly, with the same old loving warmth. Then, it was gone again, and he turned back to his shaving.
"I'll wait until you're done," he said quietly.
With a disappointed pout, DesirЋe went back to freshening a young and beautiful body long neglected by her resentful husband.
When they walked into the dining room arm-in-arm, DesirЋe appeared much happier than she really felt, for she felt like a piece of rotten meat rejected by a straw dog, as low as she could go on the road to low self esteem. While Mark went for some punch for the two of them, she stood like a statuesque icon in her white, satin dress, drawing the stares of every man in the room, while her sharp ears picked up the occasional comment or bit of information.
"They've invited this new pretender, Mark Denning, here tonight."
"Where is he?"
"I've no idea. I've never seen him before."
"Sid's going to feel him out about his attitudes, like he did that other one, that Richard Donaldson, a couple of weeks ago at the last party. Remember his sexy little wife Sarah? Only I hear this Denning fellow is younger and smarter."
"My money's on the younger one then, if he pleases Buchanan."
"But Sid's not easy to please. He likes his politicians docile and obliging."
"What do we know about this Mark Denning? I've got a number of interests myself. I'm with Sid on the food catering for the armed forces business. I'd hate to see that one go down the shitter."
"Is he married?"
"I think so. Pretty sure he's not gay like that other one, Robert Dibbs."
"Well, that's important too. Sid's always got his eyes on the women."
"Yeah, Dibbs had no wife. Nothing to offer."
"I hear she's a real looker with a big pair of tits and a great singing voice."
When Mark turned, she took his arm dutifully again, discreetly turning for a quick look at the four men behind her, who thought their conversation was only between themselves.
Women hear everything, fellas, she thought. We have to.
DesirЋe stayed with Mark like a pilot fish with a shark as he cruised among the guests. He spoke briefly with a little fat man and his wife who seemed to be somehow involved in some business with Buchanan, something to do with sewing machines and vacuum cleaners. It seemed that Sid Buchanan was into everything and then a little bit more.
Mark was not his usual gregarious self and DesirЋe knew why. She knew he still carried in his mind the lewd tableau of her jerking and grunting beneath the rutting body of Lobo, that that was affecting his mood, and she inwardly urged him to be himself and make the points he was here to make. But by the time the servants came and informed them that dinner was served, he still appeared to be fighting his nerves and inner demons.
They were escorted to their places at the long banquet table. They found that their place was next to the head of the table, where a lone chair, unfilled, sat promisingly next to theirs.
"I've never seen so many spoons and forks," Mark whispered. "Do you know anything about all this silver?"
"Use the one I use," DesirЋe said quietly. "Daddy sent me to charm school."
Mark snorted. Charm school, indeed! he thought. Is that where they taught you to hump dogs?
DesirЋe watched the guests sit down, noting that the four men who had spoken so cavalierly about Mark were now sitting with their wives. When she saw that they now knew who she was, she smiled quietly. All eyes at the table were on here, she noted with more than a mild embarrassment. The men couldn't take their lustful eyes off her, and the women's blazed with envy. It seemed that at least half the room was enemy.
Suddenly, there was a quiet settling over the room, and a big man made his entrance, sitting directly to Mark's left at the head of the table. He was large and heavy-set, his dark hair greyed at the temples, his sun-dried skin crinkly at the corners of the eyes, which were pale, almost yellow. It was plain to see from his body's configuration and his noticeable pot belly that bulged against his belt and white shirt that he was the most comfortably prosperous man in the room. And from the way the other women's eyes were fixed on him, DesirЋe knew that this big, imposing, overweight, and not entirely unattractive, man was Sid Buchanan, their host.
His third wife, Helen, she had been told, was away upstate at a charity function.
But there was something about him that DesirЋe instantly disliked. It had to do with his arrogance and total self-confidence, his almost overt contempt for his guests, and for the women in particular. She could see it in the tilt of his brows and the haughty flare of his nostrils as he dipped his head in acknowledgement of one of the women that seemed to know him, the wife of one of the men she had overheard talking about Mark during the before-dinner-drinks time. Quizzically, the husband noted her expression, the way her bosom heaved and her eyes fluttered. Yes, DesirЋe thought, there was much more going on here that met the eye.
Buchanan sat, shook out his cloth napkin with a sharp snap, and looked up. "Let's get to it, folks," he said tersely. "This is a thirteen-course meal. I hope you like good food."
Buchanan smiled broadly, but DesirЋe saw it as a Cheshire Cat, or perhaps sabre-tooth cat, smile. The man was dangerous and he frightened her. Anything that frightened Mark – and there was little doubt that Buchanan held her husband's future in his hands – filled DesirЋe with fear doubly, for no matter how Mark felt, or didn't feel, about her now, he was still her lord and protector and the only man she respected besides her own father.
Trying to shrug off her discomfort, she began nibbling at her starter. It was a delicious, dainty dish with prawns and she tried to enjoy it while she sensed Buchanan's eyes on her.
"I'm glad you could come tonight, Mark," Buchanan said. "It's always good to meet your most important associates at the beginning of your political career. And I assume this beautiful young woman is your wife, DesirЋe."
Mark smiled and nodded, glancing at her, so that she saw the warmth and light of love return to his eyes very briefly. Yes, she had made him proud. That was what she was here for. Now would he remember as well that she loved and adored him and could never think of ever hurting him intentionally, or unintentionally? Under the table, her hand stole over to his, and, finding it barely responsive, moved over to lightly brush across his flaccid penis. Mark snorted and jerked slightly.
Buchanan went on. "I hear she's a music teacher," he said, quaffing from a goblet of expensive rosЋ. "I would be delighted if she sang and played piano for us later on."
DesirЋe squirmed, but replied positively. "I'd love to, Mr. Buchanan." Singing and playing would have been easy in other company, but this whole crowd made her uneasy. If this was a political meeting, how could there be any interest in her music? But, of course, she knew that all these things went into breaking the ice, and that she had now been called on to do her part. She only hoped Mark could find it possible to break the ice surrounding his heart and return once again to the warmth of her arms. She was so aroused now, just sitting beside him. How she hoped she would be able to rekindle his natural desires again tonight so that he would make love to her! Yes, make love to her as he had before Lobo had invaded their bedroom and taken Mark's place within her soft and tender belly!
Mark saw her passive acquiescence to Buchanan's wishes and was glad that she had not decided to be arbitrary in her response. She was such a good girl, and supportive of him in every way. How could he have treated her so coldly these last few days? Lobo had not been her fault. Not at all. She could have made it difficult for him just now, but she had done her best to please Buchanan and left herself exposed in the process. Mark knew that she would be naturally diffident in the company of these people with whom she shared so little.
Dinner went uneventfully, except that DesirЋe seemed to be receiving more of Buchanan's attention than she really wanted, and making the other women envious in the process. But the food was marvellous, some of the best French cuisine she had ever had, and that at least to some extent disarmed her. Over dessert and after a steady diet of political talk that the intelligent and unaffected DesirЋe found faintly idiotic, she felt Buchanan's words particularly directed at her, though nominally they were meant for Mark and the other men at the table.
"It's always important for a politician to know where his power and money are coming from, and who has to be ultimately pleased. That's why these little get-togethers are important."
DesirЋe looked up and found the man's eyes on her, and her mouth moved before she could muster the discretion to curb her tongue.
"I should think that the taxpayers and voters were the biggest contributors of power and money in any political process."
Mark shot her a mute, horrified look and she felt his leg muscles tense beneath his trousers where her hand rested.
Hearing nothing in reply from anyone, she went on to fill the silence. "I mean," she said, "that constituents contribute billions of dollars to the government and thousands and hundreds of thousands of votes to all politicians. How could anything be more important than that?"
And of course, Sid Buchanan could make no reasonable rebuttal to that. DesirЋe looked around the table slowly, saw the expressions of those convened, and felt a blush of terror and embarrassment sting her cheeks. She glanced fearfully back at Buchanan, whose eyes had hardened to stone.
"That's right," Buchanan said incisively. "You do have to answer to the constituents, but before you can do that, you've got to get elected, and that takes money, lots of it, because taxpayers don't finance campaigns. So, after you get elected, you spend the rest of your time in office trying to remember where you drew the line, the line between debt and duty. We're all here tonight to decide where that line should be."
DesirЋe sat quietly, feeling all eyes on her.
Clete Anderson felt the sweat running down the backs of his heavily-muscled thighs and increased the speed of his pumping arms. A hundred forty pounds on the bar, he curled it ten times from the front of his thighs to his solar plexus, flexing the massive biceps of his powerful, black arms. Clete liked to work out at the end of his shift, here in the back room of the police station he dominated. He worked out totally naked, rivulets of hot perspiration running from his forehead and neck to his toes, his huge black penis bobbing with his efforts.
Nancy was waiting for him, for his massive, hard cock. Their wedding was to take place in just a few weeks, but he had already made love to her many, many times. Yes, he knew that she had fucked Mark Denning in his Range Rover out by the quarry, but neither Nancy nor her politician paramour knew that Clete was aware of the infidelity. Of course, he had exacted his revenge and it would all come out in due time, when the black sheriff wanted his enemy, Mark Denning, to know that he had enjoyed his little DesirЋe's tight and tender pussy in a way only a man with a huge male-member like Clete's could.
And he fully intended to repeat the experience.
Clete looked down at the massive, gnurled, ten-inch penis that grew out of his groin like another leg. As he contemplated fucking DesirЋe again, he saw the powerful member begin to rise and he picked up the leather sling from the table. As the head broadened and deepened in color to a purplish ebony, he fitted the leather hood over the corona and tied a two-pound weight to the thongs it supported. Concentrating, he tightened his bunching-muscled buttocks and flexed the growing erection, lifting the small metal ring, flexing his cock so that it lifted the weight from the end of his formidable prick, his great, potent testicles drawing up, then slapping against his upper thighs as he let the weight drop, then flexing it again. He watched the veins pop into view, the erectile tissue swelling, straining the outer skin, the mushrooming glans expanding beyond the bounds of the leather hood covering it. He did ten repetitions, rested for thirty seconds, and did ten more.
Nancy had begun to notice the increase in his cock's girth. Removing the sling from the wide-flanged tip of his penis, Clete picked up the calipers, watching the pulse of his heartbeat in the taut bobbing of the end of the shaft. He used the calipers to span the diameter of his penis, then laid the instrument against a ruler. Seven centimeters, one and a half more than what he had given to DesirЋe last week. Two and three-quarter inch. Longer too, and the flanges of the knob were like the head of a king cobra. Nancy, still young and tight, had nonetheless become accustomed to his penile size, but now the exercise was expanding the blood vessels in a way that had made it grow awesomely.
Clete laughed and began to stroke his giant, black shaft, watching a drop of viscous lubricant exude from the ample hole in the end and grow to a long, swinging string reaching for the floor.
With the dinner guests ranged around the room in comfortable Louis XIV chairs, DesirЋe adjusted the piano seat beneath her voluptuous buttocks and touched the keys, lightly, tentatively. She hated this, playing all alone, without any accompaniment but herself, without a microphone to make singing less of an effort. Singing opera songs in Italian and playing complex runs and arpeggios was something one learned to do easily with time, and DesirЋe was still young. They would all hear her slightest mistake and one of the songs Buchanan had requested she had not sung for two years, and she was unsure of the words.
DesirЋe's fingers felt stiff, but, to her surprise, played the opening run of notes flawlessly. By accident, she thought as her mouth opened and her clear, bell-like soprano glided across the air of the conservatory. She smiled, her eyes filling with tears as her lips remembered the Italian words even though her brain could not. As she relaxed, her playing became smoother and the lilting melody her voice delivered caressed the ear of the listeners. Her eyes found Mark's and the look on his face told her that he still loved her, that he was forgetting that time just a few nights ago when Lobo had had his way with her and she had responded mindlessly, before his gaping eyes, in a very unladylike manner.
The second and third songs, following on the audience's rapt applause, were much easier, and by the end of her performance, she felt that she had completely made up for her imprudent outburst earlier. Mark's eyes were glowing, and she berated herself at noticing that her first thought was that he would be fucking – yes, fucking – her tonight. She could see the bulge in his trousers as he sat there, sipping the drink that the waiter had just brought him.
Mark was dazzled anew by the talent and beauty of the girl he had married, and he wondered that he could ever have allowed his feelings for her to be diverted by the unfortunate event of last week. Of course, it was terrible, but it had been done to her. One could hardly blame her too much for responding in her innocent inexperienced way. She was only human after all.
Mark looked at the drink the waiter had brought him unbidden. It had a sweet taste, but by the way his head felt, it must be very strong. He felt distinctly dizzy. Damnit, this was no time to keel over drunk and disgusting! As DesirЋe stood up and gave a tiny bow, Mark stood and she walked over to him. Taking her hand, he said, "I think it's time we turned in, my friends."
There was agreement all around. It was past two o'clock and they were all tired. Even so, the butler forced a glass of sherry into DesirЋe's hand and she drank it gratefully to soothe her dry throat. Sid Buchanan sidled up to them and took her hand.
"That was brilliant, DesirЋe," he said smoothly, his eyes boring into her. "As long as you stick to music and stay away from politics, you'll do just fine."
DesirЋe held her tongue. She wanted to be with Mark tonight, intimately, and she didn't want her big mouth to get in the way of that. Escorted by the butler, she went with Mark to their room, noting that his walk was increasingly unsteady. Darn! She hoped he wasn't going to be too drunk to do it tonight. She wanted him to do it to her!
As the phone rang, Clete put down the bar and picked up a towel, running it across his sweaty chest.
"Sheriff Anderson," he said quietly, wiping his damp scrotum with the huge, swollen balls swinging heavily inside.
"Nice move, Clete," Priscilla said bitterly into his ear. "I always like to be outsmarted by muscle-brained Afros with six-shooters."
"Glad to oblige," Clete said smoothly.
"So now what?" Priscilla shot back. "I'd got plans for that video tape, and, what the fuck, I don't have it."
"There's a good reason for that," Clete said. "It's because I've got it. Now what did you have in mind?"
"That's my business."
"Mine, too, little lady. It's my black dick that's reaming her." Clete tossed the towel down and stroked his cock a few times. "No, the reason I took the tape was that I figured out what you were into, and it doesn't fit in with my plans. Not having Mark Denning and DesirЋe's father after my black ass. At this point I don't need that. You wanted to break up her marriage, but that won't work for me, because then I'll never see her again."
"Again? You stupid fucker! You're in love with her, aren't you?"
Clete clenched his jaws and grimaced, saying nothing. He didn't like his emotions exposed, not by anyone. Breaking up the Denning marriage didn't fit in with his plans just now. Clete had his own ideas. He wanted to carry on a long affair with DesirЋe, behind Mark's back, until she became pregnant. Then it would be difficult for Thurston to alienate his grandchild away from its own real biological father. The idea of enslaving DesirЋe to his powerful prick, so that her feelings for him changed for the better, and then disgracing Mark Denning with a black baby, would deliver the angel-faced, sweet-bodied little music teacher, and a piece of her father's fortune, into his hands.
"That's it, isn't it?" Priscilla drove on. "You're in love with the little bitch. That's fine with me. I want Mark. I want to destroy him, I want his balls for my door chimes. Still, I want to go to Washington with that two-timing bastard. Can you understand that? He's on his way up and I want the fun of being there with him. I don't want that twat mucking up my action. So we're going to have to clear her off. You can have her, that's fine with me. But I've got to have that tape."
Clete took a long time to reply. Then: "Come on over. We'll talk about it."
Mark was truly groggy when they got to their room, even though DesirЋe was wildly aroused. Her pussy was itching fiercely, her entire crotch. Her anus twitched with a desire that seemed purely physical. Carefully, she helped Mark undress and get into bed. She watched him frustratedly as his head lolled around on the pillow. She didn't understand it. He had had two glasses of wine at dinner, just as she had, and the after-dinner drink in the conservatory. Other than a nagging desire for sex, she felt pretty well. So what was wrong with her dear Mark?
Dejectedly, she began to undress. She was so turned on, for some reason, yet there was Mark, comatose, paralytic, on the bed, his beloved penis lying soft and slack against his left thigh. Sitting on the bed, she reached out and touched his silky, soft, circumcized cock, and she felt a pulse. Had it stirred? Was Mark coming awake? In a seizure of wanton desire, she bent forward and, without a tiny tinge of revulsion, lovingly kissed the head of his penis. She shivered at the thought of what she was doing. She had never had her mouth near his cock before, nor had his mouth been near her pussy. A few days ago, yes, she had experienced oral sex, but she cringingly admitted that that had not been Mark, nor even any other human male, but Lobo himself, helping himself to her charms. And yes – though she didn't remember clearly – she had enjoyed it with Priscilla at the orgy captured on the video tape with which she feared she would soon be blackmailed in some way and which she had promptly destroyed.
But her strangely burning vagina drove her to try to arouse Mark before she was driven to the unnatural act of masturbation.
She kissed it again, allowing her full, wet, soft lips to spread over the soft corona, and then, daringly, she sucked it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the flesh she so much wanted thrust up into her belly. Mark moaned and squirmed sluggishly at the contact and DesirЋe was sure that his cock began to grow firm and larger against her tongue. She worked more eagerly, sucking harder, licking over the length of the shaft, then again swallowing as much of it as she could until the swelling head pressed against her tonsils and she had to fight against gagging. She would do it, she swore. She would bring Mark around to make love to her and rekindle their dormant passions.
Sid Buchanan watched through the glass of the two-way mirror with a big smile on his face. She was trying to wake the dead and he loved it. The meddling, overly-clever, sharp-tongued little bitch with her moral platitudes should have kept her big mouth shut. In time, he would have got around to giving her some attention, but he had decided to make it tonight, inasmuch as Mark Denning couldn't keep a rein on his wife's tongue. So at a nod from Buchanan, the butler had served the young husband a drugged liqueur and to DesirЋe, a sherry spiked with an aphrodisiac imported from an Asian brothel. Now the little loud-mouthed blonde had a burning cunt and a flaccid, comatose husband. In a moment, Sid would make an entrance and offer assistance.
He saw her raise up and wipe her lips with her hand. Mark's limp and puny cock glistened with her saliva, but showed no sign of life. DesirЋe dabbed a tear from each eye and then dropped her hands to her big, round tits, cupping her small hands over the great orbs. She nudged the spaghetti straps of the white satin gown over her shoulders and Sid thought that she might have heard his gasp of wonder at the sight of her perfectly-formed, grapefruit-sized, creamy, white breasts and the little pink nipples, already erect, that she revealed. She closed her eyes and massaged her strangely tingly 37D-sized tits while the color of her aureolae deepened and their stippling became more defined.
DesirЋe turned and walked sadly to the mirror, behind which Buchanan stood ogling her private charms. She stood there, surveying her feminine perfection and her slender and graceful fingers hooked under the elastic of her panties and slid them down her thighs to her knees, where they dropped to her ankles. Stepping free of that garment, leaving her only in her garter belt and thigh-hugging nylon stockings. Straightening up, she covered her golden, light-brown muff of silky pubic hair with her hand and rubbed it sensually, closing her eyes and dreaming of the lover she thought she would not have tonight. Pressing her nakedness against the mirror, tears staining her creamy, rosy cheeks, she panted hotly, fogging the glass right before Buchanan's wide eyes. Then she turned and, bending, picked up the panties she had dropped. Buchanan saw her round and plump buttocks jiggle tautly, then spread deliciously, treating him to a prolonged view of her nether orifices, her tight, vermilion anus, giving him one brief, coquettish wink, and the plump, furry labia framing the scarlet, moistly-glistening slit of her vagina. Slowly she straightened up and her hand quickly flew to her crotch to try to stanch the flow of her juices of arousal. Long strings of her liquid trailed from her innocently-fired love channel to pearl the carpet at her feet.
DesirЋe gave a groan, for she was embarrassed with herself for being so turned on with no reason. She had no idea that Buchanan had had her treated with exotic substances, but her feet carried her to the bed where she lay down next to her worthless husband. She rubbed her burning mound of Venus for a moment, then with a moan, parted her legs widely and slipped her middle finger down to her throbbing clitoris, beginning to churn her ripe asscheeks on the sheet.
Buchanan felt it was time to make his entrance. Dressed only in a Chinese silk bathrobe, he came silently into the room through the hidden door and moved catlike over to the bed, DesirЋe's grunts and moans covering any slight sound he might have made on the carpet. He could smell the delicate musk of her wetly aroused young love-hole where, he could plainly see, she was carefully fingering her pink and swollen clitoris. The sight, smell, and proximity of her squirming and passionate nudity caused his big cock to stir, swell, rise and stiffen against his silk robe, the only garment he wore.
DesirЋe's eyes stayed obligingly closed as he approached her. He braced himself for her shock when she would see him there, big, heavy, lustful, and tumescent, standing over her with her comatose husband lying not even two feet to her right on the king-sized bed. She would gasp, cup her magnificent, big, round, creamy-fleshed tits in her hands, struggle to cover them as one hand shot down to her hairy, oozing pussy, and sit up with a cry of fright. But Buchanan would calm her, coerce her with all the blandishments and threats he had used on many a political wife in the past until she saw the advisability of going along with his demands. He simply had to fuck this impertinent little loud-mouth with the angelic face and voice. Never before had he wanted so much to sink his cock into a lovely, young cunt. Enjoy her body and thereby make her pay for her uncalled-for remark.
Of course she had stated the obvious, but tonight had been intended to be a night of fantasy for people with the money and power to fantasize. So now, she was wrapped in her own fantasy, groaning the name of her useless husband while her dainty fingers splurged in her silky-furred pussy.
Silently, Buchanan leaned over her, smelling her perfume, that from the bottle she had applied for Mark before undressing and that that wafted from her marvellous vagina. He couldn't wait to feel her delicate flesh closing wetly around his throbbing prick. Leaning close, he put his face close to her jiggling tits, watching the pink nubs tighten still more as he breathed on them. He leaned back, expecting to see her eyes open, but she stayed locked in the amorous fantasy.
Buchanan smiled, straightened up, and shrugged off the silk robe. Glancing at Mark Denning, lying on his back with his mouth open and his hands lying flat at his side, Buchanan moved to the bed, his pot belly wobbling and his giant, purple-ended cock arcing stiffly from side to side at a parallel to the floor, his plum-sized testicles swinging in their great, hairy, pendulous sac against his plump thighs. Sitting on the bed by DesirЋe, his smile a rictus of growing lust, again he was surprised that she didn't open her eyes when his hirsute buttocks depressed the mattress.
"Mark, my darling!" she breathed hotly as his fingertips lightly traced a trail up the inside of her thigh to the silken light golden-brown muff of her pussy.
Buchanan held his breath, knowing that now, surely, she should open her eyes.
DesirЋe panted expectantly, keeping her eyes shut, not wanting to break the spell of revived desire between her and Mark. She kept her eyes tightly shut, feeling his finger gently nudging between her plump labia and into her embarrassingly wet, hot hole beneath her pleasure button where two of her fingers worked carefully. No, she would not open her eyes and destroy the moment. Mark was watching her masturbate, yes, but if that was turning him on half as much as it was her, then let him watch. She felt her tiny pussy stretch around a digit that felt strangely thick and move inside her to the second knuckle. Involuntarily, her cuntal muscles tightened around that finger, which had skilfully found a very sensitive field of nerves on the front wall of her vagina, and she felt a gush of fluid from her urethra bathe his hand. And she kept her eyes closed.
Buchanan smiled. He knew that a small percentage of women could ejaculate that way, squirting a sweet, glandular fluid from that tiny hole above her vagina. The female ejaculation, believed by some to be a myth, but he had felt it enough times, gushing against his pubic hair erotically as he thrust heavily into the channel below with his mammoth cock, to know that some men were blessed with women so equipped. It was exciting in the extreme, that flood of hot fluid that puddled on the sheets below a young girl's writhing buttocks, and left evidence the next morning of her arousal.
Sid expertly stroked inside her dribbling pussy, finding the sensitive area along the front wall where he knew women were most sensitive, feeling her muscles tighten around his finger. Damn, but she was tight! he thought, carefully stroking her love channel to arouse her further. He was gratified to see her spread her thighs wider and pull her knees up higher, causing her buttocks to open and giving him a view of her delicious, pink anus. She was wet enough now that he could slide the next finger in with the first, although with some difficulty and hearing groans of mild discomfort from the girl, who strained to admit what she thought was Mark's loving caresses. Soon the two fingers were sliding freely and the juices that bubbled out bathed her squirming asshole beneath. Sid lost no time in bringing the next finger into play. Unable to leave the innocent girl's twitching asshole unattended a moment longer, he centered the tip over the tight anal dimple and, aided by DesirЋe's copious vaginal secretions, gently slid it in to the second knuckle.
"Oh, Mark!" she cried, pushing her hips up for the intimate probe, and then she gasped as the thumb displaced her two circling fingers on her clit. Her two small hands moved up to her big breasts and cupped the generous mounds and the fiery pink tips slid between her fingers. Sid's fingers played inside her rectum and vagina expertly while his thumb twanged her clitoris like a professional guitar player's.
"Oh, my darling, Mark!" DesirЋe gasped and her eyes opened the barest slit, seeing the masculine silhouette over her. Closing her eyes again, she gave herself up to the feelings the loving fingers were generating in her. Oh, Mark, darling! You love me again, don't you, sweetheart? she thought warmly, afraid to let her eyes show him her passion for fear that somehow it might break the spell. Yes, Mark, please! Put your thing in me and make me come! Bring back our love again. Forget Lobo so that I can forget all the other awful things that have happened to me – and to us.
Sid looked down again, saw the twin holes gripping his fingers, the inner curves of her round, firm asscheeks coated with a film of her secretions. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to fuck this angelic little piece of femaleness!
Kneeling between her spread thighs and bridging himself over her on the free arm, he lowered himself over her. So she hadn't opened her eyes yet to see whose cock was going to fuck and come a gallon inside her cunt. So much the better, for while she knew not that her lover was not her husband Mark she would respond without inhibitions. Drawing his plunging fingers free of the grip of her voracious orifices, and grasping the base of his giant shaft, he directed the broad, round tip toward the glistening, pink-rimmed cuntal opening. Now was the moment of truth, and he knew that once he was inside her sweet, hot vagina he would have her. He pushed, felt a momentary resistance to the massive knob trying to enter her, and then slipped the head inside, catching his breath at the caress of her silky smooth, baby-tight inner walls. He fought to control his breathing and his suddenly-growing orgasm, and then began working his huge cock in and out of her innocent vagina. In, and out, a little deeper inside each time, to her tender cervix and far up inside her belly, until his heavily-weighted, plum-sized testicles in the large, pendulous and hairy sac swung down between her parted buttocks to her raw and sensitive anus.
It took a great effort of will for Buchanan to restrain himself from giving himself up to a frenzied thrusting in the divine pussy he now felt lovingly clasping around his huge cock. He began to fuck her, very deeply, but very slowly. He had to learn control all over again. Damnit, this girl was wonderful! If he could give her to a few of his Arab associates like this, he could make all kinds of profitable friends. This had to be the best cunt he had every fucked. He began thrusting automatically, in all the way where he was sure her husband's mediocre cock had never ventured and almost all the way out until the flange of his glans caught at her vulval ring and pulled it outward with a tiny, wet smack.
Sid lost himself in her body, in the unbearable pleasure of her cunt. She was just too much, and it was clear that Mark Denning didn't appreciate what he had, both physically and in other ways. How was it possible that this beautiful girl should be such a marvellous fuck and so musically and intellectually talented as well?
Gritting his teeth with the excruciating pleasure, Buchanan continued thrusting in DesirЋe's divine pussy, his sperm-laden balls smacking up against her wide-spread underside. He moved into a smoother rhythm, driving deeply into DesirЋe's hot vagina, which sucked wetly and audibly on the steadily fucking cock. The profound pleasure flooding her womb caused her to push her soaking cunt up hungrily over Sid's cock, meeting him stroke for stroke. Looking down, he watched her vagina pulling on his shaft, soft, pink ridges of feminine inner flesh clinging to it, drawing out of her as he pulled back, then folding back inside as he slid into her.
"Oh, Mark!" she moaned. "Love me, darling, like that!"
The angel-faced girl's body writhed sensuously, her hands sliding up to the back of his bracing arms, touching the hair that grew over the triceps, hair that was absent on Mark's arms, that she knew so well. She suddenly noticed the sway of his paunch against her firm belly, and the pendulous swing of his balls against her anus, all things that had not been that way when she had last made love to Mark, just a little over a week before.
DesirЋe was so lost in the passion and joy of making love to her beloved Mark that is was a long time before she discovered that anything was different from how she remembered it. But remembering Mark's slim hips between her thighs when they had made love and comparing them to the wide and flabby hips spreading her legs so wide now; and remembering Mark's flat loins and comparing it to the heavy paunch slapping against her own soft belly; and remembering Mark's sleek and average-sized penis and comparing it to the huge, veiny shaft plunging deeper and deeper with each stroke into her tender vagina, caused her to open her eyes on the lustful, moustachioed face of Sid Buchanan.
DesirЋe froze in that position, her hands cupped over Buchanan's shoulders, her lovely legs doubled back along her ribs, the furry, tight hole of her vagina, split wide by Buchanan's huge penis sunk deep into her tender wetness.
"Oh! Ooooh!" she cried, hardly able to halt the rolling undulation of her hips for even a moment. She trembled, shuddered violently, as she stared up into his face.
"Oh, my, oh, my!" she whimpered, pushing him weakly away, without avail. "What-what are you doing here?"
"Obviously, DesirЋe," he groaned without slowing his impulsively sensuous thrusts into her wet channel of love, "I'm fucking you." He groaned, fucking into her loving pussy with an audible, wet squish, then said, "Like you did to me tonight, but in a different and much more pleasant way. Come on, get those trim little hips pumping, darling."
"No!" she refused, but her hips obediently rolled up of their own volition, her vagina swallowing his penis. She gave a high-pitched, quavering wail as she felt the overpowering electric sensation of his amazing cock slice through her belly, through her resistance and revulsion. "Oh, please don't do this to meeee!" she whined. "Please stop doing it!"
Sid caught one of her legs behind the knee and pried it up, looking down to where his glistening shaft sank wetly between her fat labia, covered with rich, butterscotch-colored hair. What the fuck did she have in there that made a man's semen want to come spurting out like a broken hydrant? "Baby," he panted uncontrollably, "I couldn't stop this if I wanted to. Why are you so tight? Come on, pussy baby, what have you got in that sopping little hole of yours?"
DesirЋe blushed scarlet and turned her face away. "I do exercises," she whimpered, unable to stop the rolling undulations of her soft and shapely hips. "We're trying to get pregnant and the doctor told me to do exercises, for down there." She gave an animal grunt and her whole body spasmed up against the evil heavy-bodied, heavily-endowed man enjoying the delights of her young vagina. Dr. Hemmings had told her to do pubococcygeal exercises to keep herself sexually fit, and so her already-tight cunt was like a mouse-trap.
"Please don't make me pregnant!" Her hips missed a few strokes and then resumed their undulations as her body struggled to come.
The thought of making the little bitch pregnant made Buchanan's cock swell hugely in her pussy. What a good one that would be! To impregnate this loud-mouthed little bitch and send the cuckolded husband to the legislature. His, Buchanan's, baby in the young bride's arms as Mark Denning campaigned on the family ticket. How perversely ironic that would be! Sid felt himself beginning to climax at the thought, for he hated and despised all politicians, especially the one's that worked for him. It took all his willpower to hold back.
"From what I've seen tonight, DesirЋe, you'd better take your sperm where you can get it. Mark isn't the most energetic lover I've ever seen."
Buchanan reached under his swinging balls and found the equally-tight orifice of her anus and pushed his index finger inside her warm rectum, feeling through the thin wall the knob of his cock driving back and forth in her. DesirЋe squealed at this further outrage, though there was no pain, since he had already adequately stretched her anus. Desperately she reached out and her hand fell on Mark's, and she squeezed so hard that she heard him moan in his stupor.
"Oh, Mr. Buchanan, please! You've got to stop. I can't be doing this! It's just obscene, here in the bed with my husband."
"Don't worry, darlin', he's beyond caring. Just think of what you're doing for his political career. And…" and he gave her a dozen deep-fucking thrusts into her clasping vagina, "please call me Sid, my first name. You've earned the right."
DesirЋe's eyes opened wide, hearing the slurpy sound of his cock in her wet cunt, and her left hand clutched impulsively at his shoulder while her right gripped Mark's with a knuckle-cracking strength. Throwing her inhibitions to the winds, she gave herself up to the feelings Sid's cock was stirring up in her sweet, young vagina. Her eyelids drooped so that her eyes were just misty, passion-clouded slits in her lovely face, her heavy breasts quivering on her chest as she pushed her pussy up again and again to receive his deep thrusts. For the next fifteen minutes, DesirЋe's fresh, young body was periodically shaken by small orgasms while Sid wheezingly plunged in and out of her tight, little vagina, rubbing her cervix raw with the mammoth head of his huge prick.
While he fucked her ecstatically, myriad thoughts flashed through his mind, again and again. She was fertile and unprotected. What if he could impregnate her, give her his own child to carry through Denning's campaign? Denning, the family man, unknowingly raising the child of a robber-baron capitalist while his pretty little tender-bodied wife suckled the alien baby with her luscious, creamy tits. It would give him some leverage over the little blonde cunt when he needed what she had to offer.
Buchanan went on fucking the gasping, moaning girl's wet little pussy so eagerly – now – turned up to his down-thrusting cock. Obviously, this little bitch wasn't getting her fair share of sex. Something was keeping her and Mark from enjoying the physical side of their marriage, and the little darling was having a hard time dealing with the lack of affection. Well, when Denning's political career got rolling and this little wife was around more, Buchanan would make sure she got fucked every day, at least once, if not more.
Sid went on screwing the hot cunt pushing up toward his invading cock, another half hour. Looking down, he saw her buttery pubic hair soaked with her lubrication and a froth of arousal mantling her pink, inner cunt-lips. Her orgasms came stronger each time and the clutching of her pink flesh around his cock was drawing this sex act to an inevitable conclusion.
"Please stop," she whispered, pumping her cunt up to take his huge cock into her hungry, wet vagina. "Please, plea…"
Heedless of her pleas, Buchanan buried his lust-swollen hardness to its hairy base in the moist clasping warmth of her cringing cuntal vault, fucking it up to the very hilt with each powerfully surging snap of his hips. Each thrust caused the softly yielding walls to ripple aside in waves of delicious ecstasy as his throbbing shaft of demanding cock-flesh filled her tender young passage completely, spreading her obscenely fucked cuntal lips wide as his eager cock rammed deep up into her belly.
"Oooowwww!" she moaned, her tender cuntal depths on fire as her tormentor's huge cock pierced her painfully on his ruthlessly impaling thickness.
"OH, please… Pleeez!"
Her cries were fuel for Buchanan's smoldering loins and he began to slam his turgidly aroused cock up into her narrow constrictive passage again and again and again…
Christ, what a tight little pussy this chick's got! I'd swear she's been fucked only a few times!
With both hands, he reached around her full thighs and grasped her firm young buttock, lifting her slightly for even better penetration. He heard her gasp for breath as his pulsing hardness drove from ever deeper up into the innocent depths of her fitfully quivering womb – he could tell he was in further than her husband could reach and it made him feel good to know he'd been the one to explore those depths. She was undeniably his now, and he aimed to give her a fucking she'd never forget!
"Come on, baby, push your cunt up on it! Suck it up in there real nice!"
His words made the perversity all the more exciting, and DesirЋe found herself grinding back harder and harder onto his thick impaling shaft, rocking her full naked hips from side to side as his conquering cock burrowed deeper and deeper up into her defenceless vagina. Every inward thrust brought new ripples of wicked desire coursing through her obscenely ravaged body. Her breasts were crushed nearly flat beneath her, but her smooth rounded buttocks still waved high in the air, grinding upward to meet his cruelly plundering lunges with erotic movements of their own.
His swollen throbbing cock felt like a baseball bat shoved up inside her stretched tender cuntal passage, but there was no longer any searing pain, just overwhelming waves of undiluted animal lust that swept over her in a surging fiery tide.
Reaching under her writhing, sweat-soaked pelvis, Buchanan lifted her higher, slamming his stiffened aching penis deeper, ever deeper in the forbidden sanctuary of her tight, lust-moistened pussy channel. His fleshy cock spear slipped in and out of her hungrily clasping cuntal sheath easily, coated profusely with her lubricating juices, the excess seeping from her clutching cuntal lips to trickle down her smooth quaking thighs.
He rocked his hips back, pulling his stiff member from her greedy cunt until only the bulbous tip remained between her tautly stretched pussy-lips. Like a voracious mouth, her moist cuntal lips held the swelled knob of his eager cock tightly inside the warm shelter of her wetly clasping passage, reluctantly allowing the glistening shaft of long thick hardness to slide from their rapacious grip. There could be no doubt about it now – she was his, and only seconds away from complete lascivious abandonment.
"Baby, oh, baby," he growled, humping harder and faster. He was losing control, but what the hell, the idea of sex was to have orgasms, and she had done so a dozen times in the last hour. Nothing lasted forever. "Baby, I'm going to come. I'm going to come in your sweet little pussy."
"Noooo, nooo," she groaned, though unable to stop her sensual movements. "Please, you'll make me pregnant. I can't get pregnant except by my husband."
Sid sped his deep thrusts, feeling her shuddering pussy spasming around his burning, leaking shaft. "DesirЋe, now listen to me. I'm going to come in your sweet pussy, and I hope you get pregnant from it. I'm going to keep an eye on you, and if you have an abortion to stop it, I'm going to make more trouble for you and Mark than you can believe. Understand? Open your hot little womb, 'cause I'm going to flood it with my babies."
DesirЋe cried out and squeezed Mark's hand with her own hand, made so strong by years of piano practice and hefting weights in the gym, so hard that he cried out and suddenly sat up, groggily. He sat there, naked, swaying, his eyes trying to focus as a grunting Buchanan fucked deeply into his young bride's flowing vagina, feeling the burning wad of sperm amassing behind his scrotum for its gooey, life-giving explosion. Sid looked up, grinning at the face of the young man as he felt the ejaculation bubbling down the thick tube running along the underside of his knurled, veiny cock.
"Oh God… don't stop! Don't stop! That's it… harder, deeper, fuck me!"
Buchanan knew the end was close and with every ounce of strength left in his body he pounded violently into her eager heated pussy, gritting his teeth and tightly clenching the muscles of his buttocks in a desperate effort to hold back the seething flood that filled his balls so painfully he thought he'd explode.
Just – one – more… deep – grinding – thrust – just – a few – more!
"Ohhhhhh," DesirЋe's voice let out a deep vibrato flutter; "Oh, I'm cummmming… I-I… I'm cummmming! Oh, aaaggghhh… eeeeiiiii!"
Slamming his hairy, sweat-drenched pelvis against her wildly grinding belly, Buchanan buried his throbbing cock right up to the hilt in the wet juicy furrow of her greedily clasping cunt. With a loud gasping cry of relief he felt his hot surging sperm course the length of his painfully swollen cock to explode in a giant torrent of fiery sticky sperm far up into her belly.
DesirЋe felt the muscles spasm from her toes right up to her head as the surging throes of her climax ran its devastating course. Her ravished vaginal passage hungrily gulped up every precious drop of spewing, life-giving liquid as it pumped into her with spurt after spurt after spurt of hot searing ecstasy.
As the vile man's penis throbbed, jerking out the thick, sticky, hot load of sperm, hotly gushing out into her belly, against her cervix and the tender walls of her trembling vagina, DesirЋe looked up in horror at the face of her young husband. She felt the thick, gooey sperm spattering against her vaginal tissues, filling her private channel with his hot baby-cream, gushing in, and then oozing thickly out to run down over her raw-rubbed anus and form a thick puddle on the sheet below her bouncing bottom. DesirЋe screamed, coming again, her soft belly jerking up against Buchanan, his balls smacking wetly into the swampy recess of her asshole.
"Here's my cum in your cunt, baby," he groaned, shuddering against her. "All you'll ever need."
DesirЋe sobbed with emotion, her legs wrapping around Sid's thick body as he filled her vagina full with his seed, and then she saw Mark topple over sideways onto the mattress, his heavy breathing giving way to a loud snore as Buchanan went on jerking onto and up inside her, flooding her sucking wet love-hole, then collapsed over her trembling, glowing, well-fucked young body. She sobbed several times, feeling Buchanan's cock lying long, thick, and still hard inside her cunt, consciousness draining away from her in her deep, though only sexual, satisfaction.
Buchanan's cock was still massively hard when he reluctantly drew it slowly out of her vagina half an hour later. He wanted to fuck this lovely doll again, but she had fainted away and he didn't want to risk waking her husband. Obviously, the young man had almost come around during Buchanan's session of intercourse with DesirЋe. It would do no good to incur Mark Denning's wrath when he could be of such use, politically, to Buchanan, as long as the young man was friendly. Being cuckolded by his mentor would not do anything but harm the relationship between the two men.
Sid looked down at the sleeping girl, her large, heavy breasts heaving steadily with her breathing, her rosy thighs innocently spread slightly, her raw, red-rimmed vagina stretched slightly from his hour-long session of intimate plunging, returning to its normal size while a trickle of thick, white seminal cream ran from the hole and down into the cleft of her plump bottom. Looking at her, he felt a twinge of emotion. What was it that made him care for this young, long-legged female? He had had many beautiful young women, but none of them had ever moved him in the slightest after he had sampled their charms. What was it that made DesirЋe different, besides the fact that she was just that little bit more physically beautiful? Was it her lovely soprano voice when she sang? Or was it her honesty of character and sincere desire to be faithful to her husband? Or was it just the rare feeling her body and, more particularly, her tiny, tender vagina, gave him when he was heaving and pumping inside of her.
Or was it that she was the daughter of Thurston Mitchell, a man whose success, with real moral rectitude, had never ceased to privately irritate Buchanan, who had never found it possible to succeed at anything honestly. Buchanan, in conquering Mitchell's daughter and making her respond passionately in adultery, felt he had somehow got one up on her father.
Tenderly, Buchanan drew the sheet over her innocently exposed body, then put on his robe. Perhaps he could make use of her in some way, to insure control of her husband or her father somehow. Especially if she had his baby, nine months down the road from now…
Liz Clark, dressed only in bra and panties circled the bed, gently urging her three new pets, her darling Lobo's three-year-old pups, to concerted action. With Tanya's unwitting help, she was devising a method of getting even with all the people in this self-righteous, puritanical town that had ostracized her since that time, just a couple of months before, when her own canine lover, Lobo, had vengefully raped Nancy Pace in retaliation for the beating Clete Anderson had given him. And while there was no reported case of any more women being raped by Lobo or his other roving, wild offspring, a few women had been frightened at the sightings and a state of near panic reigned in the neighbourhood now.
Liz was often filled with glee when she thought of what these three young animals would do once they had been trained and turned loose, thinking that all the human females in the world were there for their own pleasure.
Tanya, wearing one of Liz's old sweatshirts and a pair of old panties was being wrestled down onto the king-sized bed by the biggest dog, who had, according to instructions, grasped the old shirt at the back of the girl's neck and dragged her down to her hands and knees. While she was held there immobile, one of the other young males came up behind her and tore the panties from her upturned hips, exposing the glistening gash of her wet and fragrant pussy. Tanya, thinking all this was a game which she had already enjoyed several times, went along with everything, but struggled to make it seem real. The other two dogs flanked the girl, pinning her body between their two while the third began licking sensuously and effectively between her legs. Before long, Tanya, now totally accustomed and enchanted with the bestial sex, began to squeal and squirm with joy.
"That's it, Bruno," Liz encouraged. "Lick that cute little pussy. Make it purr."
Tanya was visibly shivering with arousal. "Oh, that's it, Bruno. Oh, I need it so much." Which was no lie. Rodney was out again, running frantically around trying to find the story of the dogs that raped women. Little did he know that while he was neglecting her running around the hills with Clete Anderson, his sexually deprived wife was actively involved in the story. Yes, Tanya knew it was true, yet she had no intention of telling him. She loved him, but he hadn't been a proper husband since this story had begun circling around in his head. He wanted a Pulitzer. All Tanya wanted was a little affection.
When Bruno saw that her feminine juices were freely flowing, he mounted her upraised buttocks, his feet crowding her knees further apart, his huge, salami-like penis growing into view. It was enormous, even bigger than that of his sire, Lobo, whose member had nearly split many a tender pussy in its time. Liz often wondered why she had so seldom seen Lobo lately, but she had an idea that it had to do with another love, another female, a human female, that he was either fucking or searching for. She wished him well and hoped that his haunts took him far out of range of Clete Anderson's rifle.
Tanya moaned and groaned until the tip of the great, cucumber-sized cock found her hot cunt and began to slip inside. Then, she cried out and humped backward with her trembling buttocks, taking the great penis deep into her belly. Tanya wailed, squeezing the huge penis with her youthful inner sinews, a wave of sensation shooting from her deeply-pierced pussy, up her tailbone and spine to her hanging, jiggling tits and back of her neck. Immediately, she began moving in concert with Bruno while Dusty and Sam pinned her dutifully between them. From past experience, she knew that when Bruno was done with her, he would swap places with one of the other dogs, who would take his turn, and then the process would be repeated until each of the animals was satiated, just as she, the female animal of the sexual quartet, would be content and satisfied. And tonight, when Rodney, discouraged and exhausted, came home to her where they were staying at the Mitchell's home, she would be happy to let him fall asleep after making tired apologies.
Liz watched Tanya, unable to keep calm at the sight, and, slipping her hand inside her panties, began to manipulate her own burning clitoris. She laughed silently at the thought that Rodney's hot-cunted little wife was doing more now than anyone to help create a Pulitzer Prize-winning story for him to write.
Though there was a strong possibility that, with Tanya involved in the way she was, he might not really want to tell the whole truth.
Rodney was, as his wife would later expect, already exhausted, lugging his cameras and tape recorder around the countryside. Clete Anderson was walking his feet off following what appeared to be very cold trails. Dog tracks, but what dog's? These could be anyone's pets, or coyotes, or any harmless canine. But since, a week ago, Mark Denning had come into the city government offices strangely fired up to see Lobo and the rest of the fabled dog pack hunted down, hastily convening a council meeting, vehemently and quite effectively demanding, that a twenty-five-thousand dollar bounty be raised to place on Lobo's head.
And from that moment on, Clete had not rested in his search for the animal that had raped the two women he adored and that now presented him with a perfect way to earn a nest-egg to start his marriage to Nancy and family.
Yes, Clete still loved Nancy, and since her deflowering by Lobo, she had become a perfect little vixen in bed. But what he found it hard to forgive was her afternoon sex session with Mark Denning, less than two weeks back. She still didn't know that he knew about that, because he was saving it up for the time when he knew he could use the advantage. Also, telling her would certainly come back to Denning, and there was no advantage now in letting the politician know that he had every reason to be his mortal enemy – which he was. He had plans for revenge that included his young bride DesirЋe and there was nothing that could stand in the way of that.
"You sure we're on the right trail, Clete?" Rodney panted, trying to keep up. "These don't even look like the same animal. Looks more like a Labrador or Doberman to me."
Clete shot him a sour look. With twenty-five thousand dollars hanging in the air, he didn't like to be told he was following the wrong trail, didn't like the thought that some other man might luck onto the animal and take the bounty away from him.
"I could swear we were following this same trail yesterday."
Clete stopped and turned with an ugly scowl. "You can't take the heat get out of the kitchen, city boy. How else you expect we're going to catch up with this son of a bitch?" He spat in the dirt and wiped his sweaty brow. "Maybe you should go and find some woman whose been raped by this animal, interview her 'til your ass turns blue, and come around after I've shot and skinned this bastard. What do you say?"
Rodney shook his head wearily. "No, I want to be there when he's caught, but don't you think we ought to get an Indian in here to do the tracking?"
"Indian! Fuck you, white boy. I learned to track in the army. You're not going to find a better tracker than me."
Rodney sighed and shook his head, muttering, "Glad you think so."
"What's that?" Clete asked, resuming his tracking.
"Oh, nothing," Rodney shot back, following at a distance. He was sure these were the same tracks they were following yesterday.
Mark was dressed and getting impatient. Breakfast with Buchanan was at ten-thirty, and he didn't want to keep the man waiting. DesirЋe had taken forever to wake up, then had come around with a haunted and distressed look on her face. She had covered her big, rounds tits and cupped her hand under her pussy, running into the bathroom as if plagued by diarrhea, which he suspected was the truth when he heard her slam the toilet seat down. Now, she had been in the shower for a half-hour and he was sure she wouldn't be ready in time. Should he go down without her and make an excuse for her? It would be gauche otherwise to keep Buchanan waiting.
Did DesirЋe even know what time it was?
But suddenly, she was out, her hair brushed, her face scrubbed and without any make-up, which was unnecessary on her beautiful skin, though she looked a trifle pale and red-eyed. In fact, her eyes were a bit puffy, as if from crying. While Mark watched silently, she dressed quickly and was ready with five minutes to spare.
Turning to him, she gave him a tiny, somewhat morose smile, and said, "Ready."
Mark looked at her and fell in love all over again. Something had hurt her, and it was probably he who had done it, but the pain he saw in her eyes cut through his hard shell. He couldn't stand to see her hurt, and he would try not to do the hurting. And he would try to forget what had happened the last time they had tried to share a moment of passion.
He offered his arm and DesirЋe hesitantly took it, gripping him with a tightness that seemed born out of desperation as they descended the grand, gilded spiral staircase to the dining room. The breakfast buffet was Sybaritic, replete with every wonderful thing humans had ever dreamed of for breakfast. They were finishing their starters when Buchanan sat at the large, round table with them. There were no other guests for breakfast, it seemed.
"Good morning, Mark," Buchanan boomed. "DesirЋe."
She glanced up from her grapefruit with a tight smile, but without meeting his eyes. She shivered with a variety of emotions, feeling her pussy moisten against her will as the unwelcome memories of the night before bullied their way into her mind, Sid's big, overweight body pounding hers, his inhuman penis pistoning back and forth in her sacred vagina, filling it full of his unwelcome semen. The thoughts assailed her like an insult. Initially, it had been rape, and that was the way it stood in her mind.
She was sure that he was used to having his way with any woman and that she was not the first woman he had taken in the way he had her, for he had seemed an expert in that form of 'seduction', but it had been a very sophisticated form of rape. The problem was, if she sought to have him prosecuted as he deserved, that she had absolutely no hope of a favorable judgment. She could have no proof even that intercourse had taken place unless she somehow got to the police and had a specimen taken within the next twelve hours. Even so, the presence of sperm was no proof of rape. Could the authorities possibly believe that all this had happened in bed with her husband present in some drunken stupor? Such a revelation, believed or not, would destroy public Mark's career. How could anyone vote for a man who had lain supinely in bed while a financial fat-cat had fucked his young, lovely wife to multiple orgasms for an hour?
This morning, awaking and remembering the event of the night before, feeling Sid's seminal slime draining from her sore vagina onto the sheets, she had run to the bathroom, catching the flow in the cup of her palm and sitting over the toilet until the residue had left her body. She knew that, if she was in that dangerous time of her cycle that would lead to pregnancy, it was already too late to prevent what Sid plainly hoped would happen. The thought of bearing his child caused her to shudder and she had spent the longest time in the shower trying to wash off the filth of her experience, all the worse for the way she had been caught up in it and, yes, enjoyed it to her very core until the time when he had left her.
So, while she fed her hunger with this evil man's food, she kept her resentment buried, knowing that she would have to let him escape the consequences for what he had done to her. Perhaps, though she doubted it, she would someday find a way to avenge herself on this vile rapist who cloaked himself in the respectability of the politicians he promoted.
Buchanan watched her eating. He suppressed a grin at the way she seemed to be stuffing herself with food in a way she had not done the night before at dinner. The aphrodisiac she had consumed included Cannabinol, which stimulated the appetite even as it did hormones. She was a luscious and loveable young woman, and he had decided he would do anything to keep her near him, even if it meant backing her self-righteous, straight-arrow husband. He wanted her body again, and again. Had she been single, he would have married her, just to keep her close. He would have given half his fortune just to have her in his bed at night, though, from her attitude toward him the night before, even while she writhed in pleasure at the cock-drubbing he was giving her, he doubted that she would ever consent to that.
Buttering some toast, Buchanan spoke to Mark with a smile. "Mark, I'm proud and happy to say that I've decided to back you for the state senate, with an eye to promoting you for the US Senate in four years." He took a bite, casting his oily eyes in DesirЋe's direction, watching the nervous heaving of her creamy, firm breasts. "The state job is virtually yours, provided all things remain copacetic. The Federal job is still a matter of a tooth-and-nail battle, but as long as everything sings the way your pretty wife did last night, you'll have the support of my extensive resources."
Mark's face seemed to light up like a 150-watt bulb. "I can only give you my sincere thanks, Mr. Buchanan."
"Call me Sid," the big man said, and then, glancing at DesirЋe, he added, "You've earned the right."
DesirЋe cringed at hearing those words, remembering when she had last heard them. Take me home, Mark. Please, take me home now!
That very same morning, Robin Young was a lovely young college freshman in the full bloom of her youthful virginity when she came to Pickford's Meadows to visit her cousin Priscilla Devereaux for her summer break. Actually, she had come to visit her Uncle James Devereaux, for she adored the strong and confident man with the sense of humor that kept her in stitches through the whole time when she came to see him, but the excuse was to spend time with her rowdy cousin.
Priscilla, if the truth were told, never ceased to rub Robin the wrong way. The younger girl found her selfish, abrasive, malicious, and, from what she had gathered, promiscuous. In private, Priscilla's speech never ascended to anything above parties, sex, and her obsession with the married man, Mark Denning, now irrevocably united with the lovely young woman DesirЋe, nee Mitchell. Frankly, Robin had heard enough of Priscilla's hatred for DesirЋe, whom Robin liked and admired, having seen the beautiful, blonde piano teacher sing in church and having talked amiably with her on many occasions. Though only a few years younger than DesirЋe, Robin had found herself hoping to emulate her in many ways.
Like DesirЋe, Robin was a girl without guile or ill-will for anyone. Though she felt she lacked the musical talent to equal DesirЋe's, she had taken up a voice class and a violin class at the university, and she was definitely opposed to living off her parent's wealth, indolently, in the way Priscilla seemed quite happy to do. Robin was studying to be a doctor.
She was a lovely girl, with thick, straight, silky brown hair that just brushed the tops of her shoulders, flowing like liquid chocolate, the way the elegant lines of her dancer's body flowed from one perfect feature to the next, from the full but not-too-heavy, wide-based, cone-shaped breasts, to her tiny, supple waist and hard, flat belly, to her gently-curved, girlish, dancer's hips running into long, perfect, slender legs.
Yes, she was a lovely girl, innocent in the way most girls were until corrupted by an overwhelming love for some animalistic man. She had never had a real boyfriend and even the few chaste kisses she had had were few, dry, and far between. Watching DesirЋe, from over a year before, when she had still been in high school, she had formulated a tentative plan for her life, that was, physical and mental fitness and moral rectitude, like her uncle seemed to lean toward and which Priscilla seemed to have rejected.
Hearing Priscilla talk about men and sex was often more than faintly nauseating to Robin, who had always been fairly regular at church and straight about her love life. Yes, too straight sometimes, she admitted to herself when she thought of the feminine instincts growing daily in her healthy loins. To dampen those impulses she had thrown herself with ever more energy into her studies.
Her Uncle James Devereaux met her at the door when the middle-aged driver who had met her at the airport dropped her on the wide veranda of the mansion.
"It's so good to see you, Uncle Jim," she cried, throwing her arms around his strong neck and feeling the rasp of his afternoon shadow of beard on her tender cheek. His was a comforting avuncular embrace, the feel of his body, in spite of his wealth hardened by his activities on his ranch, pressing his strong, paunchy belly against her own lean form. Their kiss of greeting, always before just a brief peck, lingered a trifle longer than was comfortable for her and then broke. Robin peeled her arms away from her favorite uncle's shoulders, and stepped back.
"It's good to see you, Robin," he said, leading her inside. "Hope you enjoy the summer. But it looks like you're getting a bit too big for kid's games." His creased, blue eyes devoured her fresh, new sexual maturity for just a moment before turning away.
"Oh, I'll be fine, Uncle Jim. Do you know if DesirЋe Mitchell is still giving piano lessons? I'd like to study some with her again this summer."
"I can't tell you about the piano lessons," he said, leading her toward the guestroom, "but her name isn't Mitchell anymore. She got married a month or so ago."
Robin stopped. "DesirЋe married? I don't believe it!"
"It's true, Robin, but she's still around and I'm sure she'll be happy to give you lessons. You and she were always close friends, not so?"
Robin nodded. DesirЋe, though only a few years older than she, was Robin's idol, her quintessential ideal of feminine perfection. Though it was unlikely that Robin's singing voice could ever equal DesirЋe's in natural talent, she did hope to rival her one day in piano. Robin also played the violin and harp. And her lithe body gave her an advantage in dancing that DesirЋe, with her heavy, round breasts, could not hope to better.
Not that there was a real rivalry between the two girls, for their friendship and mutual affection were above any kind of selfish jealousies.
Robin, still amazed at DesirЋe's marriage, went into her summer quarters, hearing Uncle Jim close the door quietly behind her. The hired hand had already brought in her bags and left them there. She should unpack, but first she would take a shower and wash off the road sweat from her journey.
Jim Devereaux breathed deeply as he closed the door. Last year, Robin had been an insecure high school senior moving into college. This year she was changed, matured into the next stage of womanhood. He wondered if she had any idea how her looks affected men. Her ripening sexuality was like a deadly weapon, with the power to turn a strong man into a whimpering weakling. He wondered what she looked like under those clothes. For years he had resisted the mild impulse to find out, to feast his eyes on the pulchritudinous reality of his brother's daughter's body. But now the temptations were exceeding the bounds of familial propriety. If brother John was stupid enough to send this tender little squab here for the summer, that was his problem. Jim Devereaux knew what women were for and, since the death of Priscilla's mother, had made sure that he kept in practice.
Devereaux found the closet, entered, and slid the section of wall aside, behind a two-way mirror he had installed himself, revealing a view of a bathroom just as the unsuspecting young girl walked into the field of vision. He watched her move with the light and slender grace of a dedicated dancer, seeming to slither sensually out of her skirt and blouse. Devereaux caught his breath at the sight of her body, so nicely matured this last year, so well turned out. He had been watching her the last few years, watching as she gradually ripened into a beauty that had been foretold by her childlike, pouting face that he knew so well, the cupid's bow lips, the dimpled chin, the high, rosy cheeks, and long and graceful neck. Her broad shoulders and tapering back.
Though she needed no bra, she wore one, and the lacy panties covered a plump pubic mound of rich promise. Robin looked in the mirror a moment, brushing some imaginary blemish from her perfect cheek, tossed back the glossy chocolate locks from the oval of her face, and then reached up behind herself and unsnapped the bra, sliding the cups away from the peachy softness of her breasts. The pink aureolae and small nipples drew Devereaux's eyes to them immediately and his mouth watered with desire for a taste of them.
As he stared at her through the mirror, she seemed to be looking directly at him as he stood there in the darkness, ogling her incredible beauty, which rivaled even that of the superb DesirЋe Denning. Devereaux had to restrain himself from knocking down the mirror and climbing through the small aperture through which he was conducting his illicit examination. Her pretty hands brushed down over her belly, over the small and dainty dimple of her navel, and the thumbs hooked under the sheer material of her panties.
Again Devereaux had to restrain himself and found himself unzipping his pants to relieve the pressure of his swelling penis. With burning eyes he watched her draw the elastic waistband down, down, down, until the thick, rich, brown pelt of her pubic hair swelled into view, like a muffin rising in the oven. He could make out the warm crease beneath the puffy labia and he felt he would go blind with arousal when he saw her slender fingers first pat, and then gently rub that warm and enticing pad of moist hair. Closing her eyes, she allowed her middle finger to dip into that warm vaginal slit where it played briefly in a way that caused her lovely tits to rise and fall to a new rhythm. Just for a moment, and then she drew her finger clear, glistening and wet with her secretions.
Turning she went to the toilet and sat down. Grabbing impotently at his crotch, Devereaux watched a pale stream of warm pee flow from her pussy into the bowl, before she picked up a Vogue magazine from the soft bag she had brought with her.
Fifteen minutes later, after daintily wiping herself and flushing the toilet, she stood up and went to the shower. By then, Devereaux was almost beyond insanity.
She had a headache, as she often did on Mondays, for the last two months, which was not helped by the episode with Sid Buchanan, nor by the blackmailing phone call she had had from the evil Priscilla before leaving. In short, things were pretty miserable. Mark was still standoffish, and she wondered if he really remembered what he had seen through clouded eyes. He had commented that that night he had had a dream that she and Buchanan were having sex beside him in bed, and she knew that that was a subliminal memory of what he had truly seen. Apparently the recurring mental image had put him off sex again and he had spent the last three nights fitfully staring at the opposite wall while she burned for his attentions.
Perhaps that was the source of her headaches, the lack of affection and loving attention. And sex. There was a nagging idea in the back of her mind – there had been for two weeks – to call Dr. Hemmings and see if he could remedy what ailed her.
DesirЋe picked up the phone and dialed his number. The receptionist, who only worked three hours each morning, made her an appointment for that afternoon at three. She wondered if she should tell him about Buchanan, what the awful man had done to her, and if she should have an examination. She shuddered at the thought that she might be pregnant by him, and wondered how he would find out – as he had sworn he would – if Dr. Hemmings found out. Was Hemmings on Buchanan's payroll somehow? She supposed that was possible, but she would have to trust the pastor. Even if she were pregnant, she doubted that she could even allow herself to consider an abortion, the only remedy, for she had to admit to herself that, though it had started technically as a rape, she had responded willingly out of her own weakness. She could never punish a poor fetus for her own sensual weakness.
"Come in, DesirЋe," Dr. Hemmings bade her as he opened the door to the waiting room. He ushered her in to his consultory and she sat before the desk. Sitting across from her he folded his hands on the desk and looked at her benevolently.
"What seems to be the trouble?"
"I don't feel at all well." Her lovely face was unable to hide her distress as she said, "I think I might be pregnant."
Hemmings, behind his mask of benevolence, was scarcely able to suppress his reactions. He felt himself breaking into a hot sweat as the jealousy burned its way up his spine and into his scalp. Damn it to hell! She had reinitiated her sexual relationship with her husband. He tried to control his emotions, knowing that the situation, with respect to him, was as difficult as it could be. He, Hemmings, had a wife himself and was the pastor of the local Baptist Church and he well knew that these feelings he had for this luscious young woman, this girl, really, were hopeless. Still, knowing that anyone, even her politician husband, had had his penis in her filled him with a rage that was all but impossible to contain.
He was afraid that his voice trembled when he said. "When did intercourse take place."
Hemmings thought she choked when she said, "Four nights ago."
Rising, Hemmings took her by the hand over to the examining table. "Raise your skirt and remove your underwear, DesirЋe," he said, taking a small tray from the shelf. While she readily complied, he watched her bare the charms he had not seen for much too long, when Dr. Braun had come in to give her a hypnotic suggestion, for Hemmings' benefit. At that time, just weeks ago, his heart had been shredded with jealousy when he had come in to the treatment room and found that Braun, in addition to his fee, was sampling the merchandise, his cock thrusting deeply into the innocent girl's vagina, which she had just exposed.
"Hold your skirt up in front, DesirЋe," he said coming around in front of her. "Spread your legs and urinate into this sampler for me."
DesirЋe was totally trusting as she parted her thighs and let him place the tray under her creamy-haired pussy; it was part of the suggestion Braun had planted in her brain. "Go ahead, my dear," he said and watched as she released the flow, watching the healthy, amber stream fill the specimen tray. With a tissue he dabbed at the damp fur.
"We'll test this," he told her. "In the meantime, I'll examine you. Please sit on the table."
DesirЋe sat up and looked at his face as he slid his naked finger into her pussy.
"You're a bit dry," he said, massaging her clitoris and poking gently inside her until her secretions made it possible to delve into her vagina and finger the pout of her cervix. "Seems all right to me," he said, "but we'll have to check the urine sample." He kept his finger in her pussy-hole, feeling how it warmly gripped him.
"I detected that you were unhappy at the idea of a pregnancy."
She looked away and he saw tears. He decided to get to the bottom of this. Without removing his middle finger from her sweet, wet grip, he put his other hand on her shoulder and said, "Sleep."
Immediately, her chin dropped onto her chest and her eyes closed. Just as Dr. Braun had devised, she went instantly into a state of hypnosis. Braun had made her submissive to almost anything that followed a light hand on the shoulder and the word "sleep", as long, of course, as it was done in Hemmings' voice. The doctor still burned with resentment that the lustful psychologist had helped himself to the joys of DesirЋe's delicious body during the induction, but not being a violent man and since the whole process had been highly illegal, he had done, and could do, nothing about it.
Now the lovely, blonde young choirgirl sat on the examining table, her legs spread, exposing her intimate charms, her body defenselessly slumped there. His finger still buried in her hot vagina, he began to stroke in and out, listening happily to the moan of pleasure that his touch was eliciting.
My darling DesirЋe, he groaned inwardly. You don't remember our time together, but I do. And you're mine. Mine forever!
Hemmings' cock throbbed and burned in his pants. It had been such a long time since he had experienced the supreme pleasure of her body. It had been a month before her wedding and she had no memory of it, for Braun had expunged that through hypnosis. But he remembered the unbearable thrill of sex with her. She had come to him in a moment of weakness and he had helped her quiet her own desires, but now her mind was clear of anything that would nag her conscience. At least, as far as he knew.
Now was the time to find out what was really bothering the girl.
"DesirЋe," he said quietly. "When I count three you will open your eyes and you will be aware of all around you, but you will answer all my questions and do everything I tell you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dr. Hemmings," she replied quietly.
"All right then. One, two, three."
DesirЋe's eyes opened and her head came slowly up. She looked at him calmly, with trust.
"Why do you cry, DesirЋe?" he asked gently, gently frigging her slippery vaginal channel with the finger that seemed unable to withdraw itself from her inner sweetness. "What is it that upsets you?"
DesirЋe's face trembled and tears squeezed out between her closed eyelids.
"Mark doesn't love me anymore," she murmured. "And I need him."
Hemmings went on fingerfucking the darling young bride. "Can you tell me why you think he doesn't love you anymore."
DesirЋe groaned with the feelings his finger was arousing in her. "He won't touch me, not since-since…" Gasping, she squeezed her legs shut on his hand and he felt a gush of warm fluid against his palm.
She was one of those women who actually ejaculated, Hemmings thought, remembering the way she had soaked him when he had made love to her the first and only time, a month before her wedding. She didn't remember that herself, for Braun's hypnosis had expunged the experience from her memory, but Hemmings would never forget it. That was why she had been given instructions to come to the office once a week, so he could repeat the event. But what with her long honeymoon and her travels with the husband on the political trail, she always seemed to be out of town on Mondays, the day she had been told to "report" when she was in Pickford's Meadows.
But now he had her here and he was going to make the most of the situation. DesirЋe's squeezing thighs suddenly scissored open and allowed him more freedom of movement.
"Since what, my darling?" Hemmings asked softly.
"Since – Oh I don't think I can say the words."
"Go ahead. You must."
"Since Lobo came again to our room."
Hemmings caught his breath. Lobo? Again? "He came to your room? When?"
She thought, and the pain showed in her beautiful features. "Almost two weeks ago."
Hemmings stilled the motion of his hand between her legs. "Tell me about it. Everything."
"Relax," he said soothingly. "Relax and tell me everything. Everything."
She started out slowly. "Mark and I were making love. I wanted to share something really special with him and I was going to… put my mouth on his… his penis. But Lobo came through the window. Attacked Mark. Would have killed him. I had to do something to pacify the wild dog, so I gave myself to him. That's why he was there. To take me. At first it was horrible, like the first time, ugly, perverted. But Mark was watching and it started to feel good. So good. Oh, it felt so good!"
DesirЋe leaned back on her hands and pushed her vagina onto Hemmings' hand, but he didn't oblige. He had to know before she got going too hotly.
"Oh, Mark hates me now, because I got so turned on and liked the dog fucking me. The next morning I got something in the mail. A video tape. I went to Priscilla Devereaux's house and something must have happened there, because I saw myself on the video tape, making love… to Clete Anderson."
Hemmings' eyes opened wide. That bastard Clete Anderson! Taking advantage of his darling! Was there no limit to outrages? How could Clete Anderson dare to fuck his choir soprano?
"Go on, go on!" he urged.
"Before we went to the party at Sid Buchanan's, I got a call from Priscilla, telling me she had a video tape and that she was prepared to use it if I didn't do exactly as she said."
"And what was that?"
"She didn't say, not yet, but I know it will be something horrible. I think she hates me." DesirЋe's bosom began to heave as she choked out the rest of the story. "That night, at Buchanan's house, when Mark passed out in a drunken faint, Sid sneaked into our bed and did it to me, right beside Mark sleeping. He might have made me pregnant!"
The girl, in deep distress, fell back and, covering her face with her hands began to sob so that he thought her heart, and his, would break. He had to do something about this. If not, she could end up in a nuthouse, which, he was sure, would make Priscilla Devereaux quite happy. Hemmings knew her motives for the blackmail. It was to break up DesirЋe and Mark, which did not really fit in with his own plans.
"Listen to me, DesirЋe, listen to me now," he said in a soft but insistent voice. "I want you to listen to me. You are going to forget everything that has happened. Forget Lobo, both times that he mounted you. Forget the whole episode. Forget Clete Anderson and what he did to you, and forget Buchanan. Those things are just bad dreams. They will become less and less vivid with each passing day, just like any dream, until, a week from now, you will forget them completely. You'll forget everything you've ever done with any male, human or canine, besides your own husband. You'll forget everything that has ever happened in my office here in the last three months. The memories will slowly dissipate, until you won't be able to remember a thing about them. And you will forget the video tape. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Doctor," she said, nodding trustingly. "They are just dreams. Oh, I'm so glad they are just bad dreams."
"Just bad dreams, but you're forgetting them."
"And now I'm going to do something to make you feel good and forget them." He reached over and began unbuttoning her blouse while he started moving his finger in her cunt again. The juiciness returned and her pussy began moving in tiny circles. Baring her huge tits, he tickled the prominent pink nipples while he worked with his other hand to slide her skirt off her hips. Pulling her to a sitting position he worked the clothing off her upper body.
Supporting herself on her straight arms she looked into Hemmings' face. "That feels better, Doctor," she whispered. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because, I must. You know I must. It's part of your therapy."
"Oh, yes, now I remember… I think."
"Yes, it helps you forget your bad dreams, and purify your womb for motherhood."
Still stirring up her feminine lubricants, he unfastened his belt and pants and pushed down his undershorts. His big cock, released like a wild animal, sprang free, dripping its own liquid from the perforated tip.
"Now, DesirЋe, I want you to look straight up at the ceiling and think of the happiest thing you can think of, whatever makes you feel good and warm. Whatever makes you have orgasms. Do you know what makes you orgasm?"
DesirЋe's face softened into a beautiful, dreamy expression and her lips curled into an irresistible smile, showing a flash of perfect, white teeth. "Mark," she sighed. "Oh, Mark, he makes me come!"
Hemmings grimaced with jealousy, and, hoisting up the girl's knees so that they gaped wide, like the jaws of an alligator, and the soft, hair-covered lips of her love-slit parted. He maneuvered the throbbing head of his cock into the warm crease, running it up and down in the furrow to part the fine tendrils of hair and find the eagerly palpitating opening of DesirЋe's sweet vagina. The soft labia circled the glans like a fur collar and her clitoris pulsated against the purplish, mushrooming male organ. Hemmings took a deep breath, remembering and then making himself forget that he was a doctor and a pastor that she trusted. Forgetting, and breathing unevenly as he leaned slowly forward, applying pressure with the head of his prick, until her tight ring of flesh yielded and opened around the leaking tip.
DesirЋe caught her breath and Hemmings stretched out his hands and grabbed her magnificent, creamy-skinned, round tits as he leaned forward and slid deeply into her cunt. He could feel that she had been doing her exercises faithfully, for her feminine channel, which had been incredibly tight the last and only time he had fucked it, two months before, was now like a mousetrap. He slid in deep and in a spasm of sexual pleasure, she reached up and gripped his biceps.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, rocking her knees back.
Hemmings began fucking her smoothly and slowly, looking down to where his rock-hard cock thrust back and forth in her tender, pink-lipped pussy, hearing the gentle squishing sounds of her juicy cuntal caress. He pushed in deeper and deeper with each stroke until she felt his big, heavy scrotum slapping up against her tight, little anus.
"Are you thinking of your-your husband?" he said, trying to control his breathing as he sluiced in and out of her young, almost untouched vagina, chafing the insides of her thighs as he thrust again and again into her hot, hairy cleft.
"Thinking," she moaned. "Dreaming. Oh, I'm dreaming of Mark. He feels so good inside of me!" She heaved upward toward him again and again, her thighs gripping his hips urgently as he plunged in and out. "Oh, my God, deeper, darling, deeper and harder! Faster!" Her pussy was circling around his buried penis. She panted, more and more excitedly, and she directed her misty gaze at his face. Eyes widening, she looked downward to where Hemmings was working sweatily between her thighs.
"Dr. Hemmings! Oh, no, what are you doing?"
The doctor closed his hands on her soft waist and fucked her a bit faster.
"DesirЋe, this is part of your treatment. You must trust me."
"But, Doctor, you're-you're doing it to me."
"… all right," he gasped. "It's all right. It's part of your treatment, and it's only a dream anyway. You need me, and I must do this to you. For you."
He thought of her innocence and beauty. He didn't think he could stand the thought of her being away from him, even if she was here with Mark Denning. He must ensure that she never left Pickford's Meadows. She needed a baby, Mark wasn't doing his duty, and here he, Hemmings, was, his penis in her sweet vagina, ready to flood her unprotected womb with his seed. He had an idea, just then, that he should impregnate her himself, bind her to him that way, even though she might be away with her over-lucky young husband more often than not. Buchanan had probably failed in his perverse design; he would check her urine specimen to find out. But if DesirЋe could be made to come to the office every three days, Hemmings could make sure the job was done properly. It would help keep her together with Mark and maybe keep things stable. And, as long as Braun's hypnotic suggestion kept her mind clouded to reality, she would think the baby was Mark's and he, Hemmings, would be able to use her body regularly.
DesirЋe felt the wonderful shaft of his cock driving back and forth in the sensitive sleeve of her young, tight cunt, felt the tickling of his hairy scrotum in the gaping cleft of her bottom. The soft crown of the shaft pushed again and again into her innocent cervix, sensitized by her passion, dilating receptively to the coming flood of sperm. Mark and Hemmings had somehow melded into the same heavily fucking body wallowing in the pleasure of the trough of her spread and raised thigh.
The doctor looked down at where his thick, glistening prick sank into her heaving belly, at the soft labia, covered with rich, buttery tendrils of soft hair, doubled over on each side of the invading organ. With each withdrawal, thin pink ridges of her inner vaginal lining clung lovingly to the retreating penis, then folded back inside as he thrust deeply back into her tender, swampy warmth. DesirЋe gave soft, throaty whimpers and grunts with each welcome thrust into her sweet cunt and her bouncy buttocks thumped audibly on the examining table, her copious lubricants puddling on the leather.
Hemmings groaned, feeling the erotic caress of her silky vagina over the length of big cock. These thoughts weren't doing anything for his control, thinking of the innocent beauty secretly carrying his child, caring for her weekly in his office, delivering the baby. All he had to do was give her a regular sperm injection, the natural way, like this, with all the erotic pleasure he was feeling now. While Mark despised her for having been raped twice by the devil dog, Lobo, Hemmings could be enjoying her intimate, girlish charms.
He began to fuck her faster, whipping her overly-wet pussy up into a lather. Reaching underneath his own swinging balls, he found her exercise-tightened anus and slid his finger into her rectal warmth, feeling the bulge of his cockhead driving up and down in the snug sleeve of her vagina. Yes, he was in there good. Through the thin wall, he pressed against his shaft with his intruding finger, increasing his own pleasure, felt his penis swell dangerously close to ejaculation. Whipping his finger free of her asshole, he grabbed her hips and sped his deep, loving thrusts into her cunt. DesirЋe's legs closed around his waist and her arms around his neck as he boffed her faster, faster and harder and deeper.
Her voice rose to a high, breathy wail, her plump, round buttocks slapping against the leather of the examining table.
"DesirЋe," he groaned, "DesirЋe, I'm going to come inside you… in your pussy."
She opened her eyes. "In my pussy? Oh, Dr. Hemmings…"
"Mark!" he said sharply. "Close your eyes, darling. I'm Mark, your husband, and don't forget it. I'm going to flood your pussy with his sperm."
"Mark?" She took a deep breath, and her eyes closed dreamily. "Mark, dear Mark, my darling!" She undulated her lovely, soft body up to him, her silky vagina spiraling up around his cock, tightening in tiny, growing spasms. She was coming, all the way up into her womb! She cried out, her body shuddering with irresistible pleasure and Hemmings felt the glands pumping back behind the root his cock. It swelled! It began to spurt, in great, purging gushes of hot, thick semen, flooding her hot channel of love with teeming, life-giving sperm. DesirЋe gave a sharp scream, her body bouncing uncontrollably on the table while the doctor emptied his jerking balls inside her.
With a loud, quavering groan, Hemmings collapsed over her, catching one taut, pink nipple in his mouth, listening to her labored breathing. He stayed that way for a quarter of an hour, making sure that his semen was well soaked in, enjoying the nearness of this divine creature.
Something would have to be done for her, something to regulate her personal life. Priscilla was blackmailing her, and Hemmings thought he knew why. The older girl was still in love with Mark, or at least so humbled at losing him that she would do anything to DesirЋe just to get him back again, at least temporarily. He had to do something to neutralize Priscilla, and somehow keep Clete Anderson away from her until he himself had carried out his plan to give her his child. Buchanan, a very powerful man, was another problem that he might find insurmountable.
He stayed stretched out over her, his penis in her vagina, plugging the seed up inside her, thinking. As far as Priscilla was concerned, he had an idea that might work. It would take some maneuvering, but it was worth a try if he could only help DesirЋe to avoid these other problems that she didn't deserve.
Drawing his shiny, slippery penis from the squeeze of her well-fucked love-channel, he searched for DesirЋe's fragrantly-wet panties, sealed them in a plastic bag, and placed them in the freezer. Then he went about making sure that she would forget all things that might make her unhappy, including the little sexual interlude they had secretly enjoyed, here in his office, in violation of all he was sworn to uphold both as a man of the cloth and as a physician.
Robin played a quick and tidy run on the piano and then dropped her fingers onto a perfectly-timed chord, then ended the Chopin piece with a flourish. Turning slowly, she looked at DesirЋe, sitting at her left elbow. The older girl smiled.
"You'll soon be teaching me, Robin," DesirЋe said warmly.
The young brunette reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. "I don't think so Dez," she said with a laugh. "But do you really think I'm improving?"
"Since I saw you last, you've improved a lot," DesirЋe reassured her. "I bet you've been practicing hours every day."
"Quite a bit," Robin averred. She turned back to the piece. "This passage took a lot of work."
"Practice is what it takes."
Robin smiled, then hesitantly asked, "Do you think we're going to have time to go riding in the hills the way we did last summer?"
"I don't see why not." Then DesirЋe paused. "Though I've heard that it's not safe for a woman, out there in the hills."
"Why ever not?"
DesirЋe's face clouded over, as if she were trying to remember something, but what she was trying to remember, her own personal experience with Lobo, had been clouded in her mind, mercifully, by Dr. Hemmings.
"There's a wild dog, a pack of them, I've heard, that attack women." Her face clouded again. "Sexually. They've raped one girl that they know of."
Robin's mouth dropped open. "Raped? Really raped? I mean, literally?"
DesirЋe nodded. "That's what they say. I know it's horrible, and just the thought of it has given me the most vivid nightmares." DesirЋe's eyes seemed to be far away as she said, "I don't know how any woman could survive such an experience."
"That's terrifying," Robin said. "It sort of puts me out of the mood for horseback riding."
"You'll probably want to stay in all summer, or at least until the sheriff hunts the dogs down. And he's not doing too well, I hear."
Robin closed the music book and put it in her lap, folding her hands over it. "I was so surprised that you'd gotten married. I mean, when I left last summer, you didn't even have a boyfriend."
"I'd only just arrived from Chi town. Didn't know anyone but you and Liz."
"How is Liz?"
"Fine, I guess. But the leader of the dog pack was her pet, and she trained him to… to do what he did to Nancy Pace."
"Liz… trained him?"
"That's right. She told me herself." DesirЋe swallowed hard, trying to sort fact from fantasy in her mind. She recalled myriad dreams of herself involved in the same kind of ordeal Nancy Pace had suffered, choking fear and panic, the grasp of hairy forelegs around her tender body and the repulsive thrust of the animal organ, and then, nightmarishly, blinding pleasure, orgasms, and complete sexual satiation.
"It… it was horrible," she went on. "Finding out that my best friend was so perverted and animalistic. As much as I like her – and I've always liked her – I'm warning you, Robin, to stay away from Liz Clark."
Robin gave a nervous, little, tittering laugh. "You don't have to worry about me, Dez. I've never had the chance to be friendly with her, and now that you've warned me, I'll stay clear."
"Good girl," DesirЋe said, feeling like an old auntie, at the age of twenty-one. "Just stick to your piano, voice, and dancing, and you'll be just fine. I feel that there's more going on around Pickford's Meadows than meets the eye. Much more than last summer when you were here. Then, it was peaceful, simple, no problems, no wild dogs, no sticky politics. Now, everything is changing."
"What about boys?" Robin asked with some interest. "I mean, men?"
"Well, I wouldn't know much," DesirЋe said. "Now that I'm married, my eyes are closed, but as I remember, there wasn't much before that. This is kind of a retirement community. Young people go away to school and find careers elsewhere. I only came here because my father made me. A friend of mine that he didn't like. I was too young then to rebel, but now I'm with Mark and everything is wonderful." DesirЋe's brow knitted again in perplexity. Thoughts and images were crowding in on her mind, ideas that things were not well between her and Mark, but she could not sort them one from another. She knew she loved Mark and she was sure that he loved her, but now there were so many doubts flying through her mind.
Shaking her head to clear it, she said to Robin, "Let's have some hot chocolate or something."
Robin smiled and gave DesirЋe's hand a warm squeeze.
Priscilla Devereaux couldn't forgive Robin her visiting DesirЋe and studying piano with her. How could her peachy-cheeked little cousin betray her in this way? Had she no taste, no loyalty? Priscilla was furious that her carefully plotted orgy, where DesirЋe had been soundly and lastingly fucked by Clete Anderson, had borne no fruit. By subterfuge, Clete had obtained the pictures and video tape so that she had nothing concrete with which to pressure DesirЋe or bring about the public shaming she had planned to use to separate her from Mark Denning. Things were difficult now that the two were married and Mark would be adverse to a divorce for political reasons, since his career promised lately to assume much more grandiose proportions, so she couldn't push for that right now. A public exposure of his wife's perversions might not, as Clete had warned, bring about a desirable result.
But a little quiet blackmail might be just the thing. Force her into Clete's arms and distance her from Mark so that Priscilla herself could carry on an affair. She wouldn't ruin it this time, no, nor would she allow anyone else to do so. Once Mark was in the state government and bound for the Federal, her father could no longer belittle her relationship with the young politician. And, if he did, who could care? Mark was in line for a fortune of his own, if she knew anything about politics.
She knew that Mark could never stomach his wife having had sex with Clete, which would effectively alienate him from DesirЋe and clear the field for Priscilla. While the idea of a divorce would most probably be out, Mark would never touch the little blonde slut again, and would only put her away after he was firmly established in national politics. Meanwhile, Priscilla would act as an eminence grise in his public life, as well as his lover.
What Priscilla really could not understand was why DesirЋe had not called her back that afternoon after she had called with the threatening proposal. DesirЋe had effectively called her bluff, it appeared, as if she knew that the older girl had no evidence of her infidelity with the black sheriff.
Priscilla had no way of knowing that, even though DesirЋe had seen the video tape and had meant to call back, Dr. Hemmings had expunged the whole episode from her consciousness. Now, she would not call, and Priscilla would be left waiting until something brought the memory back to her, which was unlikely in fact. What the scheming older woman thought was uncommon bravery was merely hypnosis-induced amnesia.
When Mark picked up the ringing phone, the last voice he expected to hear was that of Nancy Pace, yet that voice was hers, and its dulcet tones woke sweet recollections of illicit passion not so long past.
"Hello, Mark," she said very quietly. "How are you?"
For a moment, he was at a loss for words. What they had shared that afternoon less than two weeks ago was still a pleasant memory when he tried to shake off his visions of what he had seen since then when Lobo had invaded his bedroom and mounted his beloved DesirЋe before his very eyes. And while he still loved DesirЋe, he found it yet impossible to forgive her abandoned response to that perverted act of bestiality while he watched. Nancy, another victim of a Lobo attack, somehow had the quality to make him forget the pain he felt. He felt a twitch below his belt and tried to find his voice.
"Hello, Nancy. I've been just fine." No one else could know it was a lie. "What can I do for you."
He heard her breathing unevenly on the other end. "Maybe something that I can do for you, or we can do for each other," she said in her childish voice.
The twitch was becoming massive. "But-but Nancy, you're engaged, I thought."
For a moment she said nothing and he thought he heard her sniffing on the other end. "It's-It's Clete. He's been acting funny. Since you raised the reward."
"Well, a bounty of that size is bound to make any hunter act funny. He can do his job, wipe out some vermin, and make himself a sizeable nest-egg for his wedding. Let's just hope he succeeds before anyone else is… attacked."
Nancy paused and Mark wondered if she was still on the line. "Can I see you? Sometime? I mean, I'd like to talk to you."
"Really, Nancy, I don't think we should. You're engaged to be married, and I'm…" He didn't finish the sentence. Right at the moment, he didn't feel married himself.
"Just for a while," Nancy insisted. "After what happened, I think we should talk it out. I feel so confused. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes, but – But, it isn't right, is it?" He had a healthy respect for Clete Anderson if nothing else when it came to getting involved with Nancy.
"Please. Just for a little while. I'm upset, confused. Please."
Mark thought for a long time. Why not? Nothing will happen, and besides, DesirЋe doesn't deserve total fidelity. "I can't today, Nancy. Nor tomorrow either."
"Yes, that's fine. Thursday."
"Thank you, Mark. Thank you so much."
Priscilla Devereaux stood in the kitchen, drinking a cup of strong coffee and watching her father and Robin talking happily in the living room. It was funny that the young girl could be so attached to Jim Devereaux. Priscilla never had been, in spite of his open-handed generosity with her in all things. She would never forgive him for using his power and influence to break up her and Mark's love affair and delivering him into the sticky little hands of the piano teacher she hated. And now Robin was taking lessons from her! It seemed that DesirЋe was everywhere in Priscilla's life, and she resented it to her very core. She had perhaps one hope of achieving her goal, and that was to get her into bed again with Clete and make sure she ended up with the photos with which to blackmail Mark's young bride.
Priscilla glanced again at Robin, who seemed to be content to sit and bask in Devereaux's dry sense of humor. Little bitch could spend her whole summer sitting at Dad's feet if she wanted, as long as she stayed out of Priscilla's way.
And then the phone rang. She let it howl for six or seven rings before her father shouted from the living room, "Pick it up, Priss, damn it!"
"Am I talking to Miss Priscilla Devereaux?" said the quiet, vaguely-familiar man's voice. She'd heard the voice before, but where?
"Yes, this is she," Priscilla answered. He'd better not be selling anything.
"I have a message for you, from Mark Denning."
She shivered at the sound of his name. "Yes?"
"He couldn't call you himself, he's involved at the moment, but he wanted me to ask you if you could meet him out at the old Pace stone mansion. Do you know the place?"
Priscilla caught herself nodding affirmatively. Could it really be true? But it was the perfect place, an elegant old house, fully furnished, yet unoccupied for the last thirty years. A perfect place for a tryst, comfortable, cozy, and secluded. Rumored to be haunted and avoided by everyone since Nancy Pace's rape there by the marauding dog Lobo.
"Yes, I know the place," she said very quietly, unable to trust her ears.
"Mr. Denning wants to know if you can meet him there at one o'clock."
Priscilla's fevered mind made some quick calculations. "Yes, certainly," she said, not worried that she might sound too eager or accommodating.
"Then he can expect you?" the man's voice asked.
"Yes, I'll leave right away."
She hung up, giving a disdainful parting glance in Robin's direction. Let her waste her time with the old man, she thought.
Priscilla hurried out toward the stable. Riding over the hills direct would get her there in time, she knew.
Priscilla couldn't help the uneasiness she was beginning to feel at not seeing Mark's car yet parked by the Pace mansion. If this was some kind of a – Perhaps, he'd gotten tied up in town for a while, or perhaps his little slut-wife had interfered with his schedule. Damn him, whatever, she had no intention of returning to the ranch until she'd seen him face to face here, alone again, then made her own demands! He was going to find out that Priscilla Devereaux usually got what she wanted, and that once she did, no one took it from her!
Damn, she was hot, too! Riding western-style above the saddle for any distance had always exhausted her legs, and for the last ten-minutes she'd been forced to re-seat herself, the provocative massaging to her young loins immediately re-firing her sensual excitement. If she kept it up she was going to slip into a series of uncontrollable orgasms for sure, and this morning she definitely did not want that to happen before she got to young Mark Denning!
She reined the big palomino to a stop, looking around for a vantage point where she could dismount and not readily be noticed, even by a chance glance. The perfect place presented itself to her searching green-eyes… a tiny alcove with rock-formations, grass for Chester, and a backdrop of dense wood. Pleased, the auburn-haired girl headed for it.
Swinging down from her mount, Priscilla tethered Chester loosely behind a near-concealing rock, then surveyed the almost deserted, panoramic landscape. She saw nothing moving. Goddamn! She thought, thinking back on that night just last week when she had used drugs to seduce Mark's wife. She was a deliciously beautiful young bitch, that DesirЋe Denning… and the way she had licked and sucked her pussy under the influence of the mind warping LSD that night not long past! Just the memory sent tiny spasms of shimmering lust stabbing through her aroused young loins and heated, soft belly. It wasn't over between them yet, regardless of the outcome with Mark! She had to have more of the delectable young creature's cunt and tongue, while watching the black beast Clete fuck her from behind!
She sensed the uneasy pressure within her and glanced around for a place to relieve herself. She knew the plumbing was turned off in the old house, so she couldn't flush the toilet, and she didn't want to leave anything embarrassing in there for Mark to find when he got there. She had left in such a hurry that she had had no time to attend to her morning needs.
Not wanting to curtail her view, she chose a small rock and moved behind it, lifting her leather skirt to lower herself into an obscenely squatting position. While the gushing little stream flowing from her cunt sent further tingles of licentious arousal rippling through her, she imagined how she was going to make love to Mark down there, inside the house when he arrived. Urinating in the open this way had always turned her on, like a little girl squatting behind a bush in the front yard, certain that no one could see her… but thoughts of Mark were adding much to the sensation. There was something naturally erotic in pissing, with her skirt up like this, she thought, making no effort to expedite, or shorten her moment of sensual exposure.
Hemmings moved among the rocks, frantically trying to remedy this new problem. He had attracted the dogs here using DesirЋe's panties that he had saved from his meeting with her two days before. He had frozen them in a sealed bag to keep the scent fresh and strong and he had hung them from the rail on the veranda, surmising that the dogs would come by again somehow. Actually it had been a calculated risk which could have gone awry had the roaming animals not responded. But he had expected Priscilla to enter the house and he intended to trap her there with at least one animal.
Her unforeseen stop to pee up in the rocks above the house had thrown everything into reverse and now he found himself frantically running up toward where she squatted out of sight over fifty yards away. The two video cameras and their tripods were especially cumbersome and he doubted that he would easily be able to find a good, concealed spot to set them up.
Very carefully, silently, he moved up into the rocks. The last thing he wanted to do was surprise her and ruin his carefully-planned setup.
Hemmings very quietly set up the cameras and used the zoom lens to zero in on her from different angles, watching salaciously while Priscilla lifted her skirt, squatted, spreading her buttocks wide, and sent an amber stream of urine into the dirt between her feet. He used the 64-power digital zoom to get a real good close-up, then left that camera there to move to the other for a different angle, making sure her face was well defined.
Priscilla knew that she had to do more than piss, knew that she would have to use her panties to clean herself up. The jouncing of the horse had stirred up her bowels and she felt a movement inside her. Not very romantic, but Mark still wasn't here and she wanted to be comfortable when they rolled into that big, four poster on the third story of the mansion. But it was a good thing Mark was late, because, by the way she felt, she would be five pounds lighter by the time he arrived.
Hemmings couldn't believe his eyes. Not that as a doctor he hadn't seen a woman defecate before. It was just that this exposed, squatting young woman was the beautiful Priscilla Devereaux. From behind her he saw her lovely buttocks spread, saw her puckered little anus swell and open, while the brown mass of feces began to emerge, wet and shining, extruding itself into the air, moving down toward the ground between her feet. He heard her sigh while her asshole gave a little sputter and then a louder fart, and then she gave a grunt as she began to push out another great turd.
The doctor chuckled to himself as a third followed the second, leaving a substantial pile on the earth beneath her. No wonder she was such a problem to everyone. She was full of shit! he thought impiously. Now, where were those dogs?
And she was still in that exposed, squatting stance when the vicious growl filled her ears like a building roar of thunder! Physically unmoving, Priscilla Devereaux raised her widening, green-eyes in immediate apprehension, the huge German Shepherd dog standing not ten feet in front of her with its bared fangs gleaming, causing the blood in her veins to figuratively turn to ice! And behind him stood another huge animal, looking like they had been born of the same litter. Had she not recognized the closer beast, she would have recognized the silver dogtag that hung from his powerful neck!
Lobo! She saw the word embossed on the silver tag. The wild-pack leader! Oh my dear God!
The other greyish brute slunk from the shadow of the rocks then, and Priscilla heard the whimper choke up from somewhere deep inside her bosom. She started to move, her nakedly exposed legs hurting now from their strained position, but the monster dog's warning snarl froze her there, and it was that very guttural sound that sent Chester galloping off in the wild-eyed fright back into the hills!
The immense brute moved sleekly toward her, fangs still bared, its amber-glowing eyes like something out of a horror film as she squatted openly in her obscenely widespread position, the very fear of life and death raging through her! She fell backwards – shamefully onto the filth of her own feces, smearing her back and thighs with it – before the menacing approaching beast, her brain frantically trying to conceive some way of pacifying its ferocity! And then… she remembered Nancy Pace, and what DesirЋe Denning had unwittingly told them last week! Slowly, but intentionally, she raised her long legs, drawing them back to luridly present her nakedly exposed, young loins before the vicious brute. She even undulated them teasingly, as if she were offering them to a man, feeling the warm mud her urine and fecal matter and the earth had mushed beneath her naked back!
Oh, God! They would kill her! She would die here, smeared and stinking of her own piss and crap. Between them, they'd tear her to pieces! Uncontrollably, she whimpered loudly, begging for mercy!
Lobo moved over and around her in hated rage. He raised his head and growled once to bring the other shaggy-haired beast who was his companion between her raised white legs. Fury rampaged within his powerful canine body. They had mistreated his golden-one, used her in ways that greatly displeased him! This one, this female, was evil, and she must now know punishment! Again, he growled viciously, and the grey dog moved forward; his heavily parting tongue hanging wetly in anticipation from his open, strong-fanged mouth.
Never in her spoiled young life had Priscilla Devereaux actually known such fear! But she did at that moment, as she squirmed her body down in the mud produced from her own excretions, her shapely white legs drawn back, her trembling, taut buttocks raised to obscenely display her vulnerable, hair-fringed loins before the pair of feral brutes encircling her! She gasped in total panic at the sight of the grey, wolfish animal moving between her lewdly drawn-back thighs, his huge, vicious-appearing head not inches above her nakedly defenceless vagina! She stole a frantic glance at the immobile statue of Lobo standing off to one-side as if judgingly watching, but then her eyes quickly fastened once more on the menacing beast centered between her widely-parted legs!
"Oooooohhhhh!" she gasped out as the wolf-like brute lowered its head and licked out with his hotly ravaging tongue, its wet heat saturating her helpless young loins like a sudden jolt of lightning! Twice more, she cried aloud in confused fright as the mighty dog obscenely flicked its wetly burning tongue into the sensitive intimacy of her unprotected cunt lips!
"Oooohhh… oooooohhhh… my God… my God…!"
Priscilla gutturally moaned, her entire panic-stricken body quaking uncontrollably beneath the bestial tonguing of the massive grey-dog! It sliced through the thinly moistened crevice separating the ragged, hair-lined lips of her cunt like a searing, flexible blade! With raised head and dreading eyes, she saw her teeny, erect clitoris frantically quivering! God, if it could scream, it would, she thought insanely as the brute continued to splay her pink cunt-flesh wide open with its hot, rapaciously licking tongue!
Oh Christ… could it actually be happening? Two massive wild animals obscenely ravishing her… yet, one simply watching while the other sensually destroyed her with its devastatingly working tongue! Oooohhhh…! She'd go mad from its inhuman licking of her cunt alone! Oooohhh! Ooohhhh… somehow… somehow, she had to keep control of herself! Wh-What would happen next? What… what did they intend to do with her when they grew tired of this…? Again, she anxiously glanced toward the mighty German Shepherd with the medallion, knowing now that he… it… whatever, decided all things! It was unbelievable but true! The huge, handsome beast hadn't moved! He stood as if waiting… waiting while the other licked and splayed her open, lewdly upthrust loins in calculated, mind-shattering ravishment!
God, in all truth, she felt as if she were being totally destroyed! As if she were standing judgement… and there wasn't time to recount all the sins of her wicked young life! She began to toss her head from side to side in uncontrollable cadence to the grey dog's searingly swirling tongue claiming the tiniest secrets of her feverishly reacting cunt! Oooohhh… oohhhh… s-she would gladly give her soul to the lowest entity… just as long as it didn't stop… never, never stopped…!
But it did! And all when a ferocious growl emitted from the waiting Lobo! Priscilla felt her hesitant breaths suddenly knotting in her throat as she watched and waited wild-eyed to the movements of the powerful animals! She saw the wolfish dog back off, then lie down, rolling onto its back! Lobo moved behind her, incredibly nudging at the top of her head with his nose! They weren't gentle nudges, nor was his growl less than menacing!
Fearfully, Priscilla guessed at his meaning, immediately responding. She lowered her legs and raised up to her knees, feeling the continued pushes of Lobo's great head against her skirt-covered buttocks as she crawled upside down on all fours above the animal's huge pulsating genitals, her legs spread wide over his nose! Then she sensed the brute's head raise between her kneelingly spread thighs and once more begin to lick the burning, wet crevice of her open pussy, its fluid, wetly searing tongue spraying and licking up into her flushed cunt-lips with maddening intensity!
Oh God almighty! She'd cum a thousand times this way, the auburn-haired bachelorette thought wildly, reaching back to obscenely pull her leather skirt up as high as it would go and give the beast unhindered access! If only it didn't stop! Insanely rising sensations of unqualified lust were beginning to rage furiously through her hotly fired genitals and trembling belly to the massive animal's wildly ravishing tongue!
The further erotic excitement churned inside her as she felt the cool wetness of Lobo's nose sniffing back between her nakedly exposed buttocks! Abruptly his heated tongue made sensual contact with the tiny, puckered hole of her anus, then began to lick up and down the smooth, wide crevice, while the grey-one tongued incessantly at her inflamed cunt from below!
"Oooohhh… oohhh God! They're licking my pussy and rectum at the same time!" Priscilla coarsely groaned, sensing the powerful German Shepherd's hotly snaking tongue-tip once more at the tiny puckered mouth of her asshole, the end of it curlingly attempting to worm its way up inside the sensitive, soft-fleshed lips! Oooohhh… she was going to go right out of her mind with the unnatural lewd pleasure they were bringing her… and then she sensed the first bubble about to burst inside her! S-She was going to cum like never before in her life… yesss she was cuuuummmminnnngggg…!
Her half-naked, young body, skirt pulled high up over her hips, convulsively jerked and writhed on her knees before the unceasing savagery of their hotly licking tongues, her legs and belly trembling in her erotically whirling bliss as shrill gasps of sensual delight squealed helplessly from her throat! Minutes later, while their lashing tongues continued to lave back between her nakedly grinding loins without let-up, she could feel herself cum again… and yet again! Her brain beginning to deliriously whirl from the intense strain down between her widesplit thighs! Unintelligible whimpers and babblings tumbled from her slackened lips as the oral rape to her screaming loins endlessly went on!
In fact, she hardly noticed the presence of strong, furry forepaws suddenly clutching tightly at her defenceless upraised hips… not until the hot, hardness of his massive animal-body brushed against the soft, smooth skin of her nakedly exposed buttocks cheeks! Oooohhh…! Lobo had mounted her from behind!
Rather than fear or shame, the glazed emerald-eyes of the sensuously aroused girl swam in lurid salaciousness, lewdly pictured memories of DesirЋe Denning's wanton admissions the other night racing through her mind! "He fucks me so wonderfully… and his cock is so long and thick and hard!"
Excitedly, Priscilla twisted her head to look back, trying to catch sight of his animal-penis… and she did! In his upright position, clinging with powerful front legs to the rounded arch of her nakedly defenceless hips, she saw his huge, scarlet cock slipping from its heavy sheath, the pointed tip of the excitedly hardened shaft meaningfully glistening and jerking back between her openly spread asscheeks! Oh… oh God! I-It was unbelievable, like a blunt-ended spear of gradually thickening cock-flesh that seemed to have no ending to it! In wanton fascination, she stared, watching it continue to grow out of the protective sheath, the brute's massive testicles seeming to grow and bloat with his animal-sperm right before her eyes! God almighty! They were beautiful!
The bestial spectacle in itself was sufficient with the hotly goading tongue of the sprawled animal beneath her savagely lapping her frenzied cunt to trigger yet another climax! Spastically, her entire young body trembled with the violent sensations shrieking ecstatically through it! Her brain struggled in its vortex of lust! How many orgasms was this? Three, four? More? God, she was losing all sense of perspective! Her whole being insanely quivered, as if she'd been milked of her spinal fluid! She was truly going to go completely insane before they were finished with her, but – But she had to have his cock… his tremendous, long, thick animal-cock plunging brutally up into her belly!
In her drained, mind-shattering state, it was long moments before Priscilla realized the mounting Lobo's intentions! And when she did, her reaction was automatic! The drawing upward of his huge and pointed animal-penis between her widespread buttocks might have warned her under normal conditions, but there was nothing normal involved in this unnatural, bestial gang rape of her open young genitals!
Good God! He intended to fuck her in the rectum with it!
There wasn't any question with the way its hardened, wet point was probing along the softly yielding crevice separating the whitely trembling mounds of her upthrust buttocks. He intended to sodomize her!
For the first time since the beginning of their intoxicating ravishment, total utter horror filled the helpless, auburn-haired girl! Of all things she had ever sexually desired and been a part of, sodomy had never been one! The thought alone was enough to make her cry out, and she did, frantically, with pleading eyes, looking back at the mighty German Shepherd mounting her.
"Oh… oh no, God… please don't…?" she openly begged, as if she were addressing a human male. "Ooohhh, please no. No!"
But there was no mercy in the burning amber-orbs that glared down at her. Instead, she saw a baring of fangs and heard the condemning growl that spat viciously from his savage throat!
God, it was almost as if he were punishing her for something, Priscilla incredulously reasoned! But that was insane! He was just a dog, a wild dog and yet, could it be possible that he'd seen her, her and Clete with DesirЋe Denning? Was he about to repay her for that?
"Oooohhhhh!" she gasped out, the presence of his cock-tip caressing her tiny sensitive anal ring in brushing little strokes sending cringing sensations of confused dread racing through her! They continued, his swollen animal-hardness taunting the tiny mouth as it relentlessly probed for its cruel, ass-splitting entry. Frantically, she clenched her sphincter muscles tight, determined to fight him as the wet, bevelled point pressed hotly forward and wormed cruelly up between the vainly resisting outer lips of her tiny asshole!
"Oh God, Lobo, no! No, please, don't do it?" Priscilla heard herself beg.
There was a punishing growl first, and then it happened, her futile clenched rectal muscles giving way, like a thin barricade of useless silk before an army! She intensely felt the tapered length of his huge cock moistly penetrating the tiny, begrudgingly stretching hole of her ass just as if she had rotated her finger around up inside with Vaseline and lubricated it for him! Slowly, the hardened, burning rod of animal-flesh ploughed deeper and deeper up into her virginal rectum, ever-expanding the now thinly stretched outer lips as she gasped and whimpered before the unnatural intrusion into the warm, rubbery depths of her inhumanly splitting back passage!
Warm feeling of vehement retribution soared through Lobo's powerful body as he hunched his loins forward with intentional slowness, gradually submerging his heavily hardened animal-cock deep up into the forbidden rear passage of her human, female being! Some thing had instructed him accordingly, yet he knew not what only why. This evil female, she of the horses, had to be punished in the most degrading and painful way possible, and she would be!
Nevertheless, the grasping heat of her human, female inner-flesh around his deeply slithering penis sparked lewdly growing-sensations of bestial sexuality in his taut body that boiled in his loins! Fleeting pictures of time immemorial raced through his near-human intelligence, though the wild canine part of him refused to acknowledge this! He saw only the replica of his golden-haired one's nakedly helpless body being misused and by this human bitch and her companion, his mortal enemy Clete Anderson, and moved in closer behind the uncovered, secret body of the white female-human before him! Evil, she was, and there was an inbred way to meet evilness!
Hadn't he had to do the same with bitches before?
"Oooohhhhh!" Priscilla, still kneeling on all fours over the grey, shaggy-haired dog's reclining body, rasped in her completely sensuous world of pain-pleasure! The insane licking of her heatedly splayed inner-cunt from below had never ceased, even while the forbidden invasion of her tiny, defenceless ass-hole took place! Her nearly-unnerved brain could barely cope with the confused sensations racing through it! And then, suddenly, she was aware of Lobo behind her increasing the speed of his lewd hunching of his loins up between her open ass cheeks and fucking into her vainly resisting rectal channel like the beast he was!
She felt the pointed tip of his animal-cock grazing at the very underside of her hot belly, up inside, as well as the swollen length of his cone-shaped hardness ruthlessly expanding the snug mouth of her once tiny unstretched asshole!
"Aaaauuuggghhh!" she grunted, head thrown back to the vicious shock of stabbing pain screeching through her! With a wrenching lurch, she desperately tried to shake the impaling rod of scorching animal-cock from her deeply pierced rectum, but the effect was useless! As she grunted again and strained as though to pass gas to rid herself of the agonizing invasion, Lobo's fierce warning growl filled her ears, while his hairy forepaws savagely clutched at her soft, naked hips, and he began to pump furiously into her from behind!
Along with her own pained babblings, Priscilla heard the beast's deep-chested whimpers as he hammered with unmerciful rhythm up into the now soft yielding confines of her back passage. The savage, incessantly working tongue of the brute-head up between her kneed-out thighs lessened the torture with its hot hungry licking of her now, greedily throbbing cunt. Gradually the pain became more bearable, though it was still a tormenting blend of misery and weird stimulation. She felt saturated with wetness back between the entire area of her buttocks and loins, and also felt never-before emotion of debasing shame and humiliation. God, to be forcibly sodomized was in itself degrading and perverse enough, but by a raping, wild animal!
Yet, every time she tried to think, her spinning brain blanked to the flesh-ripping thrusts jolting her ever more forward, until at last her pain-contorted face was brushing down against the huge hardened animal-cock of the sprawled dog beneath her! In her agony, she hadn't noticed the scarlet rod of swollen flesh emerging slowly from its furry sheath! The sight of it, long and thick and obscenely naked fired a new, more lewd passion inside her! She sensed her nakedly upraised buttocks squirming unconsciously and of their own violation back onto Lobo's huge punishing hardness, a masochistic feeling of depraved joy boiling weirdly up in her belly! While she stared downward at the wet length of jerking penis, she began to undulate her body, moving her obscenely spread buttocks in tiny, lewdly accepting circles back onto his powerfully hammering cock, wishing she could see it vanishing up into the wide-stretched little hole of her anus. But she could feel it reaming the soft rubbery depths, plowing and expanding the resilient hot flesh deep inside her rectum! She could even feel his bloated, sperm-filled balls slapping heavily down against her flushed cunt-lips where the wolfish dog's never-ceasing tongue licked at the raging nerve-ends of her seething pussy flesh!
She felt less than human, no more or less than a bitch animal herself, suddenly revelling in her obscenely sandwiched position between two wild beasts that were vilely defiling her with cock and tongue! Her brain screamed, her nakedly grinding buttocks yielding before Lobo's hot, battering body, his huge rod of hardness racing up into the very depths of her feverishly tingling asshole, while her soft belly and inflamed cunt quaked and tremored to the mind-shattering tongue plundering wetly up into her open cunt from below! She gaped down at the huge animal-cock not inches beneath her! Her hand, beyond her conscious control now, sought it, feeling the beast lurch as she wrapped her human fingers around its wet, scarlet thickness, finally sliding them downward along the hardened rod to cup its base and the brute's bloated, cum-filled balls!
A bitch, she was. Yes, there was no denying it now. The auburn-haired girl insanely moaned as she lowered her head and opened her lush, tongue-moistened lips, her green-eyes glazing when she slid them down over the hot, bevelled tip, working her curling tongue along the thickening length of it until her mouth was filled to the stretching point with the wild sweet-tasting animal-cock! Blindly, she locked her eager lips around it and immediately the sprawled dog began to obscenely pump his loins upward into her face, causing her to almost gag as it shot to the back of her throat then down, its entire length nearly disappearing between her hungry, ovally nursing lips!
Voraciously, Priscilla sucked, her lust-glutted mind totally devoid of reality. Her cheeks hollowed and bloated as she worked her head up and down, her tongue uncontrollably exploring the forbidden sleekness of his huge animal-penis! Her soft hand warmly cupped and caressed his massive, cum-filled balls, while at the same time she thrust her naked buttocks back in rhythm onto the growing hardness of Lobo's furiously plunging cock completely stuffing the stretched channel of her ass!
Oh! What would it taste like, its cum?
Less than human? Gamey? Sweet? Tangy! As hot and pungent as Mark's? God, it didn't matter now! She wanted it… wanted it shooting hotly into her mouth… to swallow his animal jism, feeling it dribbling down her throat, filling her raging belly just as Lobo's massive cock pummelling into her maddeningly stretched rectum was going to fill her bowels to the bursting point from behind! Together, they could drown her in their scalding, beast-sperm and… and she would cum like a boiling geyser! A-Any minute now! Ooohhh… she wanted them all to cum together… together!
She sensed the-oncoming explosion of the wolfish brute beneath her, its hardness abruptly swelling in her mouth and wildly she sucked it! It's tongue ceased in the blazing, wet crevice of her inflamed cunt, a weird whine come from down between her wide-spread legs as the first squirt of animal-cum gushed hotly up into her greedily working mouth! Then, it spurted an unending stream squirting from it! Lustfully, she swallowed in thick hungrily absorbing gulps, locking her lips tightly around the rhythmically ejaculating cock, determined not to lose the tiniest drop of the fiery cascading liquid!
Lobo growled fiercely from deep in his powerful throat.
Uncontrollably, Priscilla whimpered around the brute-cock slowly deflating in her mouth, feeling the thickly boiling liquid of Lobo's animal-sperm shoot far up into her rectum, and detonating her own final, shattering climax! Delicious spasms of insane release frantically rocketed through her! She could feel every contraction of his huge, hardened animal-cock as it incessantly squirted its load of wild, burning semen deep, deep up into her eager, inwardly sucking bowels!
She felt the dog tear his massively-swollen dog-knot from her rectum, bloodily rupturing her abused anus. And then she felt another animal mount her, his identical penis penetrating her cunt in one brutal thrust, beginning to fuck in and out wildly. Wildly.
On and on it went, like some pagan ritual performed as an offering to the devil himself, human gasps and animal growls filling the morning air in that alter-like alcove, until finally it was over when the third and unexpected canine penis erupted gushingly in her cunt and drew painfully out, devastatingly tearing her vagina as well, and the dishevelled auburn-haired girl was left lying obscenely spread out on the earthen spot dampened by her own urine, smeared and stinking with her own excrement. Finally, she raised her head to look around as a gasping tremor seized her half-naked young body in its lewdly splayed position. She was alone, quite alone. And then, she remembered, clambering to her knees to frantically search around her. They were gone, gone! They had taken her boots, scared off her horse, and left her here, miles from home, disgustingly soiled. With her climax she had dropped her face down on the muck of her own shit. Her own father wouldn't recognize her, nor could he stand to touch her now.
With thick trails of dog sperm running down her thighs, and looking like an impressionist's idea of a walking bowel movement, she crumpled down onto the ground and began to cry. And sob. And cry.
Repelled by what he had seen, Hemmings gathered up his equipment very quietly and moved away to where he had left his car, half a mile away and concealed in an arroyo. He would do some editing with both the tapes, distilling the best shots onto one tape, and send a copy to Priscilla. And he would make sure that DesirЋe would never be plagued with any kind of coercion from the spoiled Devereaux woman again.
He had been surprised when the third dog had shown up from nowhere to mount and copulate with the passionately-responding, kneeling girl. And as they loped away, they were joined by a fourth that had apparently been standing watch while the first three fulfilled their animal needs. So, there were four of them that he could see and while they didn't seem to be dangerous to a friendly male, they, like male chauvinists everywhere, were fully disposed to make use of any woman available at the time the need to rut arose. The leader, the only one with the tag, which said LOBO, had approached him cautiously at the house. It had been he that was attracted by the aroma of DesirЋe's pilfered panties. The others appeared to be free and without human ownership, and with a bit of that brawny, wolf-like quality that Lobo had. Lobo meant wolf in Spanish. He wondered if Liz Clark had given him that name.
Now, as he watched the marauding dogs disappear into the hills, Hemmings knew what he had to do. From his car, through his binoculars, he could see the weeping Priscilla trying to straighten her dirtied clothing. On painfully bare feet, she was hobbling over the rocky ground and making for the road. He couldn't leave her to walk all the way back with bleeding anus and vagina. In spite of his sins with DesirЋe, he had to remind himself that he was a medical doctor and a man of the church, and he would have to help her get to his office for an examination and medical attention, which, from what he had seen, she would need.
Robin had seen Priscilla go at high speed and had tried to follow her, but the older girl was a better rider and had a long headstart, so that soon Robin was forced to admit that she would never know just why her flighty and enigmatic cousin had rode out like the devil on some evil mission. Turning back, she hurried toward the house at a greater speed.
The reason for her haste was the sight of a huge, wolf-like German Shepherd watching her from a rock with baleful, yellow eyes. She did not know that the dog's name was Bruno and that he was probably the largest animal of his breed that she would ever see, nor that he was generally friendly and harmless, but she remembered the stories that DesirЋe had told her, and the fright, the electric frisson of terror that had shot from her tailbone to the back of her neck had galvanized her to kick the horse into a breakneck run. The horse himself smelled the wolf on the wind and panic lent wings to his hooves.
She quickly found that she could not control the stallion that she, unfortunately, had taken, and while she found she could hang on, even at high speed, stopping was impossible. She lay down over the horse's neck and dropped her eyes to the ground racing beneath her. It was a big horse and the fall could be very dangerous, and she knew that if the horse didn't stop soon, she could be severely injured or killed. She tried to call out but the rough motions of her mount and the punching saddle horn kicked the breath out of her.
Got to hold on! her terrified mind screamed. Hold on, Robin girl!
Yes, she would hold on until this incredibly powerful horse threw her to the ground. For a brief instant she berated herself for taking this particular horse from Javier, the Mexican groom, instead of the gentle mare he had suggested. No, she had wanted too much to catch up with Priscilla and tag along, find out what was so important. So silly of her to jump onto the horse in just her flat tennis shoes and the loose skirt she had been wearing. The saddle was grinding against her crotch, beating her tender clitoris raw. Why had she done it? Why, oh, why?
Some sixth sense caused her to raise her eyes to the path the horse was taking and she lost control of her bladder when she saw that he was headed straight for the thirty-foot cliff that bounded the grounds of the house on the west. She knew now that she was going to die, that this stallion, whose name she did not even know, would come up to that sheer drop and pitch her over onto the rocky dry riverbed below.
Oh, God! Oh God oh God oh God!
They were coming up on the precipice and Robin frantically jerked at the reins, trying to turn this horse aside if he wouldn't be stopped. The muscles of her back screamed with the effort and she heard the horse snort angrily, but in no way would he be deterred from his dash toward death. She tried to remember prayers she had said all her life, but no words would come. She just began to squeal in a high voice as she saw that she was totally at the mercy of this runaway animal. There were only a few yards to go and she would be thrown into oblivion…
And then she was picked up as if by some divine miracle from the horse's back. A strong arm around her waist held her suspended above the ground that slipped by at such speed. She saw the horse ahead of her suddenly dig in with his hooves and stop, and as Uncle Jim swung her up onto the rump of his big horse, she knew that she would have certainly been thrown to her death.
Jim drew up, turned his mount and rode back to the stables at a canter with the trembling and frightened girl pressed against his back, her arms around his waist.
They were helping her down, the groom and Uncle Jim.
"Javi," Jim said severely to the groom. "If you ever give her another horse like that one, I'll cut your little brown balls off."
"She don't wait to listen," Javier said. "She just get up on your horse and go."
Uncle Jim's arm went clear around her waist, his palm cupping the underside of the opposite breast. "Well, now, greaseball, it's time for you to go. Saddle up and go and get that stallion. He's out there wandering around. Must have seen something that spooked him."
"Spooked him?" Javier said. "Lot's of spooky stuff around here these days. Funny noises in the night."
"Aw, hell, that's just Priscilla messing around. No ghosts around here."
Javier turned away to his new duty. Jim looked down at his scarlet-cheeked, trembling niece.
"How d'you feel?" he said, kissing her quivering lips.
Her arms clung to his neck. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Jim," she gibbered. "Oh, thank you!"
Smoothing the sweat-soaked brown hair away from her glowing, pink face, he cupped his hands over her cheeks and kissed her again. "I don't want you riding out alone again until I'm sure you can handle the horse you're sitting on. That clear?"
Robin nodded and allowed him to support her as they went into the house. He took her into the bathroom and bent her over the basin, washing her face with cold water. Weak with shock, she just stood there while he rinsed her face, then massaged her shoulders.
"Your skirt is all wet," he remarked. "How'd you do that."
She looked down and bit her lip. "Oh, I'm so ashamed." How could she have let Uncle Jim, the man she respected most in the world, see that she had wet herself in terror? "How embarrassing!"
"Here, well, let's get them off." Before she could protest, he unfastened the belt that held the skirt around her waist and pushed it down over her hips. She groaned as he made her step away from it and he picked it up, tossing it into the corner. "Panties too?" he said, and hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband, slid them down to her knees.
"Uncle Jim!" she gasped, leaning forward with her hands on the edge of the basin, supporting her weight while her knees threatened to buckle. She felt his hands at her bosom, undoing the buttons, slipping the shirt over her shoulders, feeling his brush down over her bare buttocks and it fell behind her to the floor to cover her soaking panties. From behind her, he circled his arm around the front of her, fully cupping her right breast in his hand as his other hand massaged her neck and shoulder muscles.
"Calm down, baby," he crooned. "You're all right now. Just a little body contact and warmth and maybe a shot of Jack Daniels." He unsnapped the bra between her shoulder blades, rubbing his fingers up and down the straight indentation of her spine, then used his fingertips to slide the bra cups off the full cones of her breasts. His hands went to them immediately, covering the pink-tipped mounds, pulling her strong back against the front of him. She thought she could feel the firm shape of his big penis in the crease of her buttocks.
"Uncle Jim, please, you mustn't," she protested weakly.
But he kept one hand on her breast while he wetted a washcloth and started washing her down, her sweaty back and her damp bottom. He pushed the cloth into that deep crevice, briefly stimulating her anus, then moving under her, stroking the terrycloth over the plump lips of her pussy. His fingers gently pinched her nipples, first one and then the other.
Jim whispered in her ear. "Uncle Jimmy has to keep his little girl safe and clean," he said quietly, his fingers brushing lightly over her ticklish skin. "Gotta keep her healthy and happy." His tongue came out and flicked into her left ear and she felt a chill shoot from the base of her skull to that sensitive area between her leg where his hand how cupped the rounded, split, buttery bun of her vagina.
"Uncle Jim!" Robin cried as a finger slipped between her labia and found her clitoris. She gasped, trembled, and felt as if her knees would give way and she leaned farther forward to steady herself. Her uncle cooed and stroked her back, pressing her forward even more until her face was close to the mirror and her breath was misting on the glass.
Jim looked down to where the asscheeks were parting to reveal her tender, innocent anus to his view and he could see his fingers, curled around from in front of her, playing in the virginal cleft of her pussy.
"Where have you been hiding this all this time?" Jim hummed, flicking his finger over the brown halo of her tight, little asshole. The brown hair of her labia was thick and silky, all but hiding the pink inner lips where his fingertip was just barely entering her vulval slit. Damn, but she was luscious. It occurred to him that what he was doing to this girl, he was doing to the daughter of his brother, the brother living in the small, Midwestern town with his drugstore and video shop and his two-year-old Buick. Come out to the farm, dear brother, and see how the animals live.
James Devereaux dropped to his knees behind the violently-trembling, young virgin, skimming his hands lightly down the back of her thighs. He brought his wet fingers to his nose and inhaled the girl's estrous, feminine aroma. Palming her jiggling, round buttocks and parting them carefully, he blew his warm breath over her exposed anus and watched the tight little dimple of that hole contract reflexively. Delicious. Opening his watering mouth, he licked that intimate orifice with the flat of his tongue, heard the breath exit her lungs in a spasm, while her round buns tensed and closed around his nose and mouth, squeezing his freshly-shaven cheeks.
"Oh, Gawd!" she sobbed, covering her mouth with one hand. What she was feeling she had never imagined could be felt by any girl. She was so embarrassed at being so intimately exposed, here before her favorite person in the world, Uncle Jim, who had always been almost like a father and who had just saved her life. Chills and flames were shooting through her at the same time as she felt his hand on the small of her back, bending her forward so that his tongue could curl up between her legs and lave her tingling clitoris. She felt her insides loosen with a gush of her lubricant, which flowed down over his appreciative tongue.
"That's my girl," he encouraged, his lips moving against the inner curves of her butt, his words tickling her twitching anus. He licked and licked, all around her sensitive twin holes, tasting her silken pussy hair, inhaling the gentle odor of her sweat and fresh urine. He would drink her piss, and eat her shit if he could have her like this every day. Damn, but she was beautiful. Perfect.
Robin's firm, plump, round buttocks were pumping sensually against his face, moving with a life of their own even as her mind rebelled against this. It was pure sensual feeling she was experiencing, and had nothing to do with her affection for her uncle. She had never, ever, ever thought of him this way. It just wasn't right, that he should have to put his mouth on her dirty bottom just to help her feel good. She was still weak with fright, her veins flushed with adrenaline and her nipples and clit with the blood of irresistible arousal. Uncle Jim was licking her where no one had ever touched her before, looking at things, parts of her body, that she considered ugly and unfit for human view.
"Uncle Jim, agh, agh, Uncle… Jim!" she sobbed unevenly against the mirror, her bottom jerking back to his slavering mouth, the cleft engulfing his face, her nipples grazing the marble counter. "You've got to stop! Please! Oh, I'm so ugly there."
Jim licked her again and again. "So beautiful here, Robin," he groaned, smacking his lips. "You're really so beautiful." She was. The pink rim of her pussy was turned in, the lips not prominent or protruding or ragged, but like a baby's pussy, and her asshole was smooth, barely puckered, and a light cocoa color. The pubic hair was thick, shining, and straight, lying down neatly over the labia majora like the tendrils of a bird's feather. And the hole was oozing the sweetest juice he had ever tasted.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Robin," he reassured her, but her eyes were turned up in her head, her whole body vibrating with passion and her ears heard nothing.
For Jim, it was time to take her, to plunge his red-hot cock into her girlish vagina, to fuck it, and shoot it full of his manly seed. Already, his shaft was aching in the confines of his jeans, and while he continued to lick at her cunt, he used both hands to undo his belt and pants and liberate his rampant penis. It sprang free, brushing its head against the back of her knee, streaking the skin with the slime of his own need.
The nineteen-year-old virgin shivered with fear, arousal, and passion. A man more than twice her age was giving her a kind of attention she had never had, in a way she had not known was possible. The realization that it was her beloved Uncle James that was doing it to her exploded in her brain again and again with the waves of pleasure that he was giving her. He was seeing parts of her that she thought would remain hidden from everyone forever, and telling her how beautiful they were. She was ashamed at how weak she had been in letting him do this to her, though the thrill of her near death did indeed have something to do with it, whether she knew it or not.
James Devereaux backed away from the warm, wet cleft of his niece's pert bottom, giving it one last fond glance where a stream of pussy juice trailed from her virginal slit to leave a drop on the bathroom floor between her feet. As he stood up, his pants slipped from his narrow hips and bunched up around his ankles. Quickly, while kicking his shoes off and pulling his feet free of his pants, he assumed his position behind the trembling girl's defencelessly displayed buttocks. He lost no time in directing his huge cockhead toward the tiny hole he had just licked and stimulated to a soft and slippery receptivity. He felt the soft and wet contact of her vagina over the very tip of his shaft, and groaned lasciviously.
"Robin, darling, it's time that I made you a woman," he whispered.
She moaned, pushing her butt back against him with her hands against the wall, weakly trying in her virginal fear to push him away from her like that, but she only succeeded in pushing the small and tender mouth of her vagina over the head of his massive penis, engulfing nearly the whole bulbous tip.
"That's the idea, Robin," he encouraged her.
"Uncle… Uncle Jim," she gasped, trembling violently. "Please stop. We mustn't do this."
Devereaux took her soft hips in his hands and pressed forward, until her saw the shining, red rim of her cunt completely swallow his cock and he came up against the barrier of her hymen.
"But, my baby girl, we must. We can, and we must." He pushed against her hymen and heard her yelp. "Because you need it and want it."
Robin felt his cock stretching that precious membrane of her virginity. He was going to tear it, take away her innocence, make her unfit to marry a decent man. "Oh, please, no more, I can't stand it!" she moaned, but she felt her hymen tearing as her vagina, with a life of its own and in spite of the pain, moved in circles of arousal, the baby mouth of her pussy making tiny, wet smacking sounds. And then she felt him give a hard shove.
"Uncle… Jiiiiiiiiiim!" she squealed as her maidenhead was finally, decisively torn and the massive shaft slipped into her tender, young wetness a good half of the eight inches he had to offer her.
The feeling was incredible! So deep, with a feeling of fullness and intimacy. She opened her mouth wide but could not catch her breath. She gasped several times as he worked it inside her another inch, drew slightly back, and then pushed in again, another inch, then out, and back in, deeper each time until he was inside, pressing her cervix back so that the flaring head with its drooling opening was seated against the mouth of her womb, that small hole in the end threatening to fill her full of his manly, fertilizing seed.
Devereaux looked down to where his cock vanished into the purity of her creamy, white body, the thick brown hair of her cunt clasped around the thick base of the shaft like a loving, furry collar. There you go, John brother. I'm fucking your churchy little daughter now, and there's nothing you can do about it. It was a form of revenge, he thought, for his religious brother's supercilious attitude toward him and his own beautiful, wayward daughter Priscilla. Your daughter's fucking for the first time in her young life and she's going to learn to love it, if I've got anything to say about it.
"Oh, Uncle Jim!" Robin whimpered. "Please, take it out! It hurts."
Devereaux flexed and flared his cock inside her pussy and heard her grunt, saw her asshole wink reflexively. With a gentle finger, he tickled that tight, moist hole, and flared his cock again.
"Stop that," she said, looking back at him over her shoulder. "That feels funny."
"Just stretching you a bit for the fun to come," he said, and while he continued with the intermittent throbbing of his massive organ, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide off his shoulders to the floor. Then again his hands were on her, stroking her back and butt-cheeks, up along her ribs to her sweaty underarms, and then down to hold her firm, rounds breasts in his big, work-toughened hands.
Robin was stricken with the enormity of her sin. She had let her uncle go inside her. She was a virgin no more, and though she hated herself for her weakness and sensuality, she felt the pain in her feminine hole dissipating and giving way to a pleasant tingling that spread out through her entire insides. She felt the flaring, throbbing shaft in her womb, felt her pussy clench on it with an answering desire. A man was inside her and there was nothing she could do about it. In fact, she wasn't sure that she wanted to do anything about it.
Uncle Jim initiated gentle fuckstrokes into her hot vagina, feeling it loosen slightly in acceptance. In, deep, deep, until his hanging balls brushed pleasurably against her tingling clitoris that he had so recently licked nearly to the exploding point, then out, almost all the way, his prick now glistening with her fluids, until the flanges of the knob caught at the tight ring of her pussy with a sweet, little, wet smack. The girl's silky cunt was heaven and the feel of her tender walls sliding over the surfaces of his cock drove him on.
Robin felt him filling and emptying her again and again. It was totally unlike anything she had ever felt before. Filling and stretching her babyish channel. By instinct and to heighten the good feelings that were building in her belly, she pushed back softly with her round assheeks, sliding her vagina over the cock inside her. Was this called incest? She couldn't remember, but she knew that it was beginning to feel good, what Uncle Jim was doing to her. Her mind swam with the reality of it. She was doing it, having sex with her father's brother, in this strange submissive position, not face to face as she had thought she would with her husband. She didn't like being bent over the marble top like this, her bottom thrusting back at him like some animal in heat, but she soon found that she couldn't stop the backward heaving motion of her body. Her hot, soaking girl-hole wanted more and more of this, and try as she might she couldn't stop it from pushing itself back and forth over her uncle's big, gut-stretching penis. She felt her cheeks and lips burning, and she wanted to kiss him, wanted to fold her legs around him and pull him deep into her pussy, but if she did that, she would have to let his cock out of her and she couldn't bring herself to do that.
"Uncle Jim," she whispered. "Please kiss me."
Leaning forward, he kissed her burning lips, never slacking the fucking actions of his cock in her tight, oozing cunt. He kissed her for a long time, his tongue duelling with hers, his cockhead battering her cervix while wet slurping sounds filled the room and mingled with her throaty sounds of growing pleasure. He was her uncle and it was wrong, but he was having intercourse with her and it felt so good, so very, very good. With each instroke, she felt his pubic hair tickling her asshole and she wiggled her hips back at him.
Devereaux broke the kiss and increased the speed of his plunging penis.
"Like that, Robin?" he said, looking down at where his cock was drawing tiny ridges of pink vaginal flesh out with every outstroke, then pushing them inside as he fucked back into her. "Do you like that, baby?"
Robin was trying to catch her breath as her hips followed him stroke for stroke.
"Like… it," she panted. "Like it, oooh… yes, I… like… it." Feeling the joy shoot through her undulating loins, she cried out. "Oh, yes, Uncle Jim. I love it. Please do it some more. Please don't stop."
He felt the impending explosion of semen building behind the base of his cock, rising up from his heavy, swinging balls. He was going to give it to her, whether she wanted it or not. "I won't stop, Robin. I'll do it all you want, all summer. I'll fuck you until you've had all the fucking you need."
The lovely girl groaned at his use of the obscenity, but there was no stopping the bucking of her hips as her vagina sucked lovingly on the cock shoving deeply into it. Something was expanding inside her, something that she couldn't stop, even though it threatened to burst her trembling young loins.
"Something's happening to me, Uncle Jim," she grunted, bouncing her butt back at him harder and faster. "Something…"
"Go with it, baby. Go… with… it. You're going to… to come." They were going to come together, the first time. This was fucking great, he thought. "And I'm coming too. I going to come inside your sweet little pussy."
The coarse language fuelled her passion and she bucked against him all the harder. "Oh, I love it. I do. I love it." She felt the joy building in her like the sunrise, slowly at first and then brightening to a blinding flood of light. Her body began to shake and she felt the muscles of her belly squeezing and vibrating as her vagina clamped down on his glistening, fucking cock. She cried out again and felt him begin to hammer into her pussy like a madman.
"Coming, Robin, coming," he grated. "Coming in your pussy, baby. Everything I've got."
And then it began to throb, and spurt. Weeks of stored-up, teeming sperm gushed out of him like a broken hose, flooding her young, convulsing vagina, spurting into her pure, untouched love channel. They kissed again, writhing together in gut-wrenching pleasure and joy as he filled her with his dangerous semen. Neither of them had any time to think of where all this was leading them, this young teenaged girl and this fifty-three year-old man, both possessed of lust and love and lewd joy. No time or room in their minds to think of what this huge injection of sperm could do to her precious young body. They were concerned only with the joy they both felt in each other's body.
"More! Give me more!" Robin pleaded.
"This is all I've got, darling," he groaned. "All I've got." He felt the last drop of juice drain from his balls and felt his cock finally lie still, thick, and softening inside her feminine hole. Robin shuddered to stillness, lay exhausted on the marble top, her breasts crushed beneath the weight of them both, his cock soaking in the warm swamp of her vagina. It was a long time before either of them could think.
"Oh, Uncle Jim!" she said in a small soft voice. "What have we done?"
Devereaux stood up and drew his cock free of her loving cuntal grasp. He turned her around, drawing her up against his hairy chest and middle-aged paunch.
"What have we done?" she asked again, laying her head on his chest. "I feel so ashamed." She started to cry silently. "What are we doing to do?"
Devereaux lifted her face up to him, dried her tears and kissed her. "What are we going to do?" he repeated. He swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed and climbing on top of her without hesitation. He slotted his hips between her uplifted thighs and quickly found the opening of her vagina with his cock, sliding it in all the way.
"This is what we're going to do," he said, starting to move his rejuvenating cock slowly in and out of her sperm-flooded pussy. "Priss won't be home for hours."
Robin moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him, forcing his huge, knurled, fifty-three-year-old cock deep, deep into her hungry belly.
Bill Canning and Sam Quaid sat in their Mercedes in the upmarket housing area of Pickford's Meadows, watching the comings and goings of the residents. This particular house they had been watching for quite some time while the former's feverish brain plotted revenge for the murder of his older brother John. In his mind, DesirЋe Denning was equally to blame for Clete Anderson's murder of the young man. DesirЋe, he believed, had enticed John into raping her and thereby incurred the wrath and revenge of the amoral black sheriff. Bill knew that his brother had been disembowelled by a garden tool, wielded by Clete and which had torn him open systematically from groin to gullet.
"You know what we're talking about is killing a politician's wife as revenge on the town sheriff," Sam said conversationally. He was not at all worried or repelled by what they were contemplating, but was weighing the realities of an act that excited him more by the minute as they planned it. DesirЋe was the kind of girl he, or his companion, could never hope to win. The only substitutes he could hope for were those impressed by his ill-gotten wealth from drug dealing. DesirЋe, the blonde-haired angel of everyone's dreams deserved what she had coming, just for the pain she caused to men like Sam in withholding her charms.
Just now, DesirЋe was arriving home from somewhere in her modest but new little Chevrolet, almost colliding with her husband's own BMW as he was pulling out of the driveway. The two young criminals watched the young newlyweds adjust their approaches, DesirЋe allowing Mark to back out before pulling into the crescent-shaped driveway. While the husband drove away, they saw the blond girl get out of her car and gaze wistfully and lovingly after her departing love.
"Let's take her now," Sam said breathlessly. "Let's cut that soft little pussy in twenty pieces and hide the parts all over the station house. In the desk, in the frig, in the…"
"Not yet. Let's get it right first. We've got to have some place to do the dirty deed on her where nobody will hear her screams. I hear there's an old, abandoned house on the Pace farm, but I want to find out just where and check it out."
Sam grimaced. "I'm dying to fix the little bitch. I've never done it that way before."
"Yeah," Bill said, "but I want to make sure we can put the screws to the nigger sheriff, and to the max. I want films of it. Hell, we can sell it as a snuff film all over the world. A babe like that!"
And while they talked, DesirЋe turned and went into the house.
Closing the door, she leaned back against it, thinking. Mark had been so cold lately, so unaffectionate, and she wondered why. The dreams that had plagued her were now only vague memories, but something irritating sat in the back of her mind. And while Mark ignored her sexually, her own frustrated desire grew. It had become a constant itch between her legs, a panty-wetting ache. She wondered if it was the summer heat that seemed to singe the hairs of her tender vagina.
DesirЋe went to her room and took off her expensive suit that she had just worn to choir practice at the little church she attended regularly. Pastor Hemmings had been there watching her with a friendly smile and an indecipherable gleam in his brown eyes, and having his eyes on her like that while her body seemed to hunger for sex did not make matters one little bit better.
It was daring that she left off her bra when she changed into the light, white, sleeveless summer dress that came down to the top of her knee. Her nipples, she noted, were brazenly visible against the thin fabric and she eschewed nylon stockings. She never needed them anyway; her legs were so smooth and creamily tanned that nylons were redundant at any time. For further comfort, she added a pair of flat, canvas shoes and bound her long, golden hair back behind her ears.
Going to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and went into the living room to sit. And watch television. It was going to be a boring day.
Mark drove his car as steadily as he could toward the rendezvous he had made with Nancy Pace. He was going to have to break it off with Nancy good and proper, that was for certain. He could not afford a scandal right now as he was approaching the election that could make his political career. The teenager would have to stick to her fiancЋ Clete Anderson and keep things proper between her and Mark. And then there was Priscilla…
Yesterday she had been seen in a dreadful and filthy state wandering down a country road before being picked up by Dr. Hemmings – and taken straight to his office. The strangest thing had been the near hysterical phone call from Priscilla's father last night, telling Mark that he was putting a bounty of fifty thousand dollars on the head of each of the three members of the dog pack individually. And Mark now knew that Lobo and his lot had claimed another victim. Mark considered putting bars on the bedroom windows, and he had checked and loaded his pistol, making sure it was in the drawer beside the bed.
The nightmare went on, didn't it? Lobo had destroyed, or at least seriously damaged, his relationship with DesirЋe. At times, he thought the old feelings were coming back, and then the weird tableau of that night last week would impinge, the sight of DesirЋe on all fours being solidly fucked from the rear by that evil dog. It was a grotesque nightmare that gave no promise of ever going away.
Mark drove down Main Street and stopped in front of the electronics shop next to Hemmings' office, exactly where Nancy had told him to stop. Though he saw nothing, suddenly she was there, slender, fresh-cheeked, and unbearably pretty in her short skirt and airy blouse. Looking at her he found it hard to imagine that she had undergone the same ordeal as DesirЋe had last week, that it had all started with her. The advantage was that Mark had not been there to see it, had not been pushed from his copulating position and made to watch the debasement of the young female by the rampant canine.
"Let's go, Mr. Denning," she urged. "We don't want to be seen."
"Look, Nancy, we've got to talk about…"
"Yes, we do, Mr. Denning. Mark. We need to talk a lot. Please, let's go. Out by the airport."
Mark gunned the engine and moved forward, unaware that Dr. Hemmings, gazing from the second-storey window of the apartment he kept over his office, had seen Nancy furtively slip into the BMW under very suspicious circumstances.
Within ten minutes they were near the airport and Nancy told him to pull over at a motel. With a start, Mark realized that this was the motel where he had been seduced by Priscilla not so long ago. Running around to the other side, Nancy swung his door open and tugged him out, dragging him along to a doorway. While he gaped in disbelief, she produced a key to one of the rooms – was this the room where he and Priscilla had had their sexual assignation not long ago? – opened it and pulled him in. The crafty little bitch already had a key, had already checked them in.
Hearing her firmly close the door behind him, Mark said, "Now, listen, Nancy. I said we'd talk, not sleep together."
"Sleep?" she said coming around to face him. "I have no intention of sleeping." Her face was uplifted and ineffably lovely and vulnerable. It was hard to imagine her being raped by Lobo or in a marriage with Clete Anderson. Her hands came up to his waist, lightly, diffidently caressing. She was very unsure of herself, and it was hard to understand how she could have been crafty enough to arrange this room ahead of time and then entice him into it.
"Listen, Nancy, please," Mark said to bolster his resolve. "I'm a married man, and if anyone knew that we were in this room together, whatever happens, there would be hell to pay. My political career depends on my being morally spotless." Mark tried to disengage himself, but her hands came right back to him, shyly working at his belt buckle. "Nancy, I know we made love once and it was very, very nice, but I really can't do this again, not to DesirЋe. And you, what about Clete?"
Nancy's soft and cloying hands were unzipping his pants and her face was against the side of his neck, her full, red lips kissing, her little flashing tongue licking up beneath his ear.
"Yes, Mr. Denning, I know." Her hands slipped into his briefs and found the penis that was inexorably firming up for action. "But I can't get you out of my mind. Or my heart. I've loved you since I first saw you. And we both know you're not morally spotless. You were here once with Priscilla Devereaux." Her voice was small, childish, and sincerely truthful, and he felt her whole body trembling with excitement at his nearness. To still her shaking, he wrapped his arms protectively around her, and she seemed to catch fire at that moment. While one hand cupped beneath his vibrating testicles, her other arm hooked around his neck, drawing his face to hers.
They kissed, and it was a kiss warm with love and innocent passion. He was somewhat shocked that she knew about his assignation with Priscilla. He would not have thought that all that time she spent with Clete, undoubtedly fucking themselves silly, would have left her with any innocence at all, but now remembering that she had been a virgin just a few months ago and that she had sexual experience with just two men, one of them himself, he understood. She was still a teenager with a crush. Clete was an expedient substitute, not the romantic dream every girl has. Her soft, firm body was pressed desperately against him from her mouth all the way to her knees, and the way she was touching his prick was irresistible. With a groan he gave himself up to the kiss.
His hands moved on their own to close over her firm round buttocks, and he couldn't stop himself from exploring underneath her skirt, and then inside her panties. He ran down through the cleft of her butt and into her warm, moist vulva and she sensually groaned, pushing her already wet pussy down onto his two probing fingers.
"Damn you, Nancy," he growled as she sank to her knees in front of him, her mouth engulfing his penis like a child enjoying a popsicle. Looking down as the electric sensations shot through his loins, he saw his male member disappear completely into her face. But of course, Clete had taught her to do this, and he must have some huge cock, if the size of the rest of his body was anything to go by. She was young and sweet and fresh, but her black boyfriend had taught her sword swallowing.
His cockhead pressing against her tonsils, Nancy sucked and salivated, drawing all the resistance out of him as a bee draws pollen from a flower. He felt his knees begin to buckle and he moaned, twisting around so that he fell back on the bed.
"Oh, sweet Mark," she whispered, pulling his pants down over his thighs. "I knew you'd want me again, my love." Her fingers deftly loosed his shirt buttons and her mouth followed her hands, caressing over his chest and the sensitive flesh of his nipples.
"You little vixen!" he groaned. "You're too young to be doing this."
"You think so?"
"Damn it, Nancy, I'm married." He protested and squirmed but already she was moving over him, hiking up her skirt around her waist, pressing the damp crotch of her panties onto his aching cock. She had him in the position, but to get her panties off she would have to throw her leg back over him, and she didn't want to lose him, so she gripped them with clawed fingers and, grimacing with lust, shredded them away from her belly and hips so that they clung in tatters.
Mark gaped at her passionate act, saw her move the light brown muff of her pussy over his stiff cock and with one hand fit the head of his cock into the hot recess of her wet femaleness. He looked up into her sparkling eyes, amazed at having been virtually raped by this teenager. He shook his head from side to side, trying to deny that this was happening, that he was destroying his life with DesirЋe in allowing her to do this.
"No, Nancy, no!" he cried, but he had no strength to get her off him. He saw her eyes burning with some deep emotion and desire, with love and lust all at once, and then she put her hands on his chest and lowered her hips, engulfing his raging cock in her dripping, wet heat. Their moans and sighs mingled in a chorus as her demanding hips took control of him.
"Oh, Mark, my love," she groaned. "I love you so much. So much." Her tight bottom began rising and falling over his hips, sucking his hard cock into her loving, giving vagina. "Don't stop, ever. Never!" And with a cry, she began making love to him with every atom of her being.
While Mark was busy committing adultery with Clete Anderson's fiancЋe, his adoring young bride was practising one of Chopin's Polonaises on the baby grand piano in the living room. She was finding it hard to concentrate when there was so much bothering her. Mark wasn't talking much to her lately and he had made no sexual approach for over a week. She felt neglected and unloved, and, in the words of the uneducated, horny. Adding to that were the flashes of strange erotic dreamlike hallucinations that had plagued her for the last few days, a nightmarish kaleidoscope of fantasy sexual escapades including Dr. Hemmings, Clete Anderson, Sid Buchanan, and a snarling wild dog. The name Lobo kept jumping into her mind, the name they had given the leader of the woman-raping dog pack.
DesirЋe's fingers moved deftly over the keys, but she noticed that there was no feeling in the music they produced. Her heart wasn't in her music today, and the sad and slightly cold parting look that Mark had given her had a lot to do with it. What was happening to her marriage, the dream that she had dreamed for so long? Was Mark having an affair? Why had he looked at her that way? Why didn't he want her anymore? Her body hungered for lovemaking and her womb burned for a baby. Would she ever have those things?
The phone rang, and she hesitated. Perhaps it was Mark. She didn't really want to talk to anyone else. She picked it up on the fourth ring and immediately regretted answering.
"Hello, DesirЋe?" It was a deep, masculine voice that she vaguely recognized but could not place.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"I think we need to talk," the voice said. "It's very important."
"Important? Who is this?"
"It's Clete, DesirЋe."
She paused. The person she liked least in the world, unattractive to her for the color of his skin and the form of his face and for the way his eyes looked at her when she had the misfortune to be in his company.
"What-wh-what do you want?" She felt her spine stiffen.
"It's about the video tape, DesirЋe."
"You know, the video tape."
DesirЋe was completely mystified, for Dr. Hemmings had made her forget the entire episode by way of the lock that the nefarious Dr. Braun had put on her innocent mind, using drugs and hypnosis to first seduce and then manipulate her.
"No, Sheriff Anderson, I don't know. I have no idea what you mean."
There was a pause and she thought she heard an obscenity breathed at the other end.
"Really, Sheriff Anderson…"
"Look, DesirЋe, I think you'd better see it before you do, or don't do, anything else. This is an important matter."
DesirЋe felt her heart begin to pound. "Is it… is it something to do with my husband?"
There was another ominous pause, and then that smooth, low voice said, "Yes, yes, it is. I think you'd better come over here to my office right away."
Words failed her. A video tape, of Mark. Doing what? He was having an affair! That had to be it, and Clete had a video tape. It was… blackmail by the sneaky black sheriff. Mark's career would be ruined by a scandal. She caught herself and wondered that Mark's career was so important when she herself was the one being betrayed.
"Your office. Yes, I'm coming right now," she said all too quickly. Anderson was blackmailing them now and he would want money. She took her checkbook and without bothering to put on anything more than the light, wispy summer dress she was wearing, grabbed her purse and flew out the door.
Mark groaned as lightning bolts of pleasure shot through his loins as Nancy's lovely, round bottom bounced resoundingly up and down on his thighs. He grabbed her lush, jiggly buttocks and pounded his swollen cock up into her sweet, young pussy. She was just too much! He looked up gratefully into her pretty eyes, misted and half-closed in passion and pleasure.
"Fuck!" he rasped. "What have you got in there? You're eating my cock alive."
"Just love, Mr. Denning," she said huskily. "Love for you. Mark."
"Yes, yes, call me Mark," he said, pulling her hips down so he could reach with his cock as deeply into her belly as possible. She was just wonderful. As he looked into her sweet, sparkling eyes he found it hard to imagine that she could have turned on with the dog, Lobo, the way he had seen DesirЋe do. No, Nancy had been raped and hated every moment of it. But then there was Clete…
He pulled her face down and kissed her hot, wet lips. She sucked on his tongue, and he sucked on hers while they moved together, working together to slide his cock in and out of her bubbly cunt.
"Nancy, baby," he whispered against her cheek. "I have to know something."
"We have no secrets, dear Mark, ooooh, ugh, ugh," she grunted as the feeling of his fucking cock shot through her belly and up to the base of her skull. She squirmed and writhed and pounded her hips up and down on his throbbing prick.
"Clete," Mark gasped. "Why Clete?"
Nancy panted, sliding her pussy again over his penis. "A girl…" she gasped, "a girl has to have somebody, doesn't she? You, you had DesirЋe, and I was too young for you." She reared back, squeezing her lovely tits and tossing her hair back while she went on fucking him. "Wasn't I?"
Mark grabbed her and flipped her over so that she was under him. She drew her knees back and opened her cunt to him and he started to shaft her with everything he had. "Nancy, you're not too young for anything anymore. You're all woman." He fucked into her again and again, drawing joy and pleasure from her pussy as he thought he never had before even with DesirЋe. He bridged himself over her, his hands closing on her breasts and gave her every inch he had. Looking down he could see his cock disappearing into the furry split of her cunt, felt his balls slapping wetly between her asscheeks.
DesirЋe parked her car in the parking lot of the small shopping center and walked up toward the sheriff's office. She certainly didn't want anyone to see her car in front of the police station. Her feet seemed so unsure as her high-heels clicked along the sidewalk, and her knees felt wobbly. When she drew abreast of the station, she stopped and looked carefully up and down the street to make sure that no one was watching her. She waited a long time before she found the courage and then walked quickly up and went through the door.
She had never been in this place before. There were chairs for waiting and a long counter, a computer at a desk immediately behind that. And a long window running the length of the room, the dark, shadowy area beyond covered by thin venetian blinds. The place looked empty though she thought she saw movement in the back office, behind the blinds, but she was not sure. What was going on? She was frightened, very, very frightened. What did Clete want? She was sure that he meant to blackmail them with some evidence of an affair that Mark was having. She felt in her purse for her checkbook.
She stood there a long time, gazing at the bell on the counter, unable to bring herself to ring for service. This was insane! She had no business in a place like this. Why should she have to get Mark out of a jam that he had gotten himself into? Mark was the one being unfaithful, let him bail himself out.
DesirЋe turned to leave, her eyes fixed on the door to the outside world, away from a no-good bastard like Clete Anderson. This was no place for a good girl like her. She would send Mark to deal with the crooked sheriff and she could stay home with her music and art. Yes…
Her hand was on the doorknob when Clete's commanding voice brought her up short.
"But DesirЋe, you just got here," he said, and she felt his hand on her arm.
She spun around, fright sucking the breath from her lungs, and looked into Clete's dark face and eyes. He had a heavy, masculine, feral odor to him, a strong scent not altogether unpleasant but intimidating at the same time, a reek of pheromones. He was a mountain of muscle and his grip on her arm was inexorable. The fear and the heady African aroma of him drained away her strength.
"You weren't thinking of going before we had a chance to talk, were you?" he said, drawing her away from the door and toward the counter.
"I… I didn't see you, so I was leaving," she said feebly. She felt a trembling begin in her entire body. She felt that she was in some danger here. Because of the strangely vivid dreams she had had of him, though he was the sheriff, she felt that he was not altogether trustworthy. There was a sheen of perspiration on his black cheeks and his strong hips seemed to be thrusting forward even as he was walking backward.
"I was in my office in back. You didn't give me time to come out."
"Oh, well, I thought…" but what she thought she knew not, for her only desire when she entered this place was to get out again as soon as possible. She saw that he was leading her toward the gap in the counter and the half-open door to the inner office. "I needed to know, Sheriff Anderson…"
"You can call me Clete, DesirЋe."
"Clete, I have to know if this… this video tape concerns my husband, before I see it. I have to… to…"
"Brace yourself?" He moved to the door and she could see that the light in Clete's office was lower than that of the outer, sunlit front office, which made it hard to see through the glass and the half-closed venetian blinds from the front area. "Maybe you should."
Clete released his gentle grip on her arm and walked into the dim back office, and DesirЋe, spellbound to his riddle, and on tenterhooks for knowing what all this had to do with Mark, followed him in, fighting to control the rhythm of her breathing. The wide desk was strewn with papers and a television was playing a soap opera. His pistol hung on a hook with his hat, with a small iron weight with a thong strung through it. Clete folded his arms and half-sat on the corner of the desk, crossing his feet at the ankles. Her eyes were drawn to the huge pectorals that he must have used the set of weights in the corner to develop. His biceps and triceps were congruent with the rest of his solidly – and vainly – muscled body. He was a powerful man and he appeared to have no reticence to using his power to coerce what he wanted from anyone. His obsidian eyes burned into her and he waited smugly for her to speak.
"Sheriff Anderson," she began, searching for the words and the courage to communicate. "I'm here now, and you say you have some information I should know. Now, I'd like to know what it is so I can be on my way."
Clete smiled thinly and picked up a remote control on the desk, pushed a button, and looked into her eyes. DesirЋe heard the dramatic dialogue of the soap opera abruptly cease, to be replaced by nothing but heavy breathing. Heavy breathing and higher-pitched sighs of a woman, and the deep, bass grunts, pants and groans of a man. Still, at first she didn't grasp the true context of the passionate sounds.
"Sheriff Anderson…" she started again, then glanced at the screen. It took a second glance to discern what was playing on the screen. It was a pornographic video! Yes, a dirty film and she could see the luscious, white upturned buttocks of a young woman in close-up, and horror of horrors, the mammoth, black penis of a man thrusting between her rosy asscheeks into her tender, pink vagina! "Sheriff – Sheriff Anderson! How dare you bring me here for this! I have no interest in pornography. What kind of fraud…"
"DesirЋe, please, this is no cheap pornography." Clete put his big hand on her shoulder and gently turned her toward the screen. "This is a very important film for you, and it has a lot to do with your husband."
She looked at the screen, watching closely, with revulsion, the wet and glistening black shaft disappearing smoothly again and again into the girl's ivory womb. "That's – that's not Mark's – That isn't Mark."
"No, honeychild, it isn't Mark." He smiled and DesirЋe caught it. "It's me."
DesirЋe shivered at the fact that she was in the presence of this powerful and immoral man, watching as he exhibited himself to her on the film. This was positively the most obscene thing she had ever seen, and the most sordid situation she could remember ever being in. She, a married woman, alone with this burly black man watching him perform sexually with a white woman. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen only because she was afraid to look elsewhere, while the frame widened to reveal more of the girl's darling, ripe body. He saw the great, full, hanging mounds of her pink-nippled tits jiggling beneath her to the boffing of the heavy body driving the black cock into her, revealing the flexing, pinkish halo of her tight anus between her flared buttocks, the scarlet vaginal lining clinging lovingly to the shining penis that was giving her so much joy she seemed unable to restrain her cries of passion.
DesirЋe glanced at Clete, shaking her head in disgust. Then her eyes were drawn back to the screen and she saw the frame widen to show that the girl there was a blonde with buttery, yellow hair that flowed over her shoulders. To Clete's face contorted with pleasure as he drove into her vagina ceaselessly, relentlessly. His white teeth bared animalistically in his dark-skinned face. The sheen of sweat on his massive pectorals and deltoids, like the glow on the girl's pumping round bottom. Back to the girl's golden tresses and hint of a profile, then to her heavy, swinging breasts, a single drop of perspiration gathering and then dripping from one taut, glowing nipple. Feminine grunts of bursting passion, her entire body shuddering with an orgasm, to the black cock swelling, throbbing, throbbing streams of thick, white semen into the girl's pure belly. Her cries of release as she came again.
And then, finally, a shot of the girl's face, the straight, aristocratic nose, fine, sculpted jaw, beautiful, wide, blue eyes beneath graceful eyebrows shining with sweat…
The face, DesirЋe's, and the girl was she, DesirЋe, and suddenly a dim memory came flooding back to her, of the night Priscilla had drugged her and led her into that evil episode. Still a dim memory, but now becoming real with the evidence of it. She had had sex with Clete, and for some reason, she had enjoyed it and forgotten it. And it must have been Priscilla who had wielded the camera, and she must have been drugged, perhaps, for she had no clear recollection.
"Yes, DesirЋe," he said quietly, putting his hand softly on her shoulder. "I think it does concern Mark. It's you and me making love, having hot and beautiful sex, and you can see how much you loved having me inside you."
She stared at the screen, incredulous, both dainty hands pressed against her big, heaving breasts, the nipples swelling and hardening reflexively against her palms. Her eyes were glued to the sight of her own writhing body jerking in fulfilment on the black man's deeply-buried ejaculating penis, and she cringed at the sound of her own passionate moans and grunts blending with those of her film lover.
Hyperventilating at the shock, she felt herself losing consciousness, and Clete caught her as she stumbled back, lasciviously cradling her round bottom in his big hand to set her back on the edge of the desk. Moving around in front of her, he slid his hand up the inside of her thighs toward her moist vaginal mound. He had wanted to go slow with her, knowing that he lacked the advantage of the drugs that had made her so pliant and willing before that short time ago, but the attraction of her sex was too strong for his basic instincts to resist. DesirЋe gasped as she felt his hand cover the damp material between her legs. The hem of her white, light summer dress slid up as his leg insinuated itself between her thighs and his free arm encircled her waist as he drew her up against him, his face inches from hers as he stared into her limpid, deep blue eyes.
"You're mine, DesirЋe," he hissed. "You're mine, and you'll always be mine. We made love once, and we're going to do it, again and again, for the rest of your life. No one can make you come the way I do, 'cause no one has the big, black cock that I do." His fingertips found the edge of her panties' crotch band and pulled it away from her hot spot, sliding into the wet slit, to her clitoris, now throbbing embarrassingly.
"Ooooh, Clete!" she moaned. "Please stop. This just isn't right."
"As far as I'm concerned, nothing could be righter. Babe, you've got nothing to lose. It's too late to stop it. We've already done it, can't you see? You're already mine. We've already fucked, and you want it again."
DesirЋe let a wail of despair pierce the air as Clete's iron fingers gripped the crotchband of her panties and shredded it away from her trembling loins and the garter belt around her waist. Pressing her back over the desk and flipping the skirt up over her belly and drawing her dress down to expose her magnificent breasts, he dropped to his knees with his face over the musky, fragrant, blond and thickly-furred cleft of her moist vagina. Gazing at her beautiful, butterscotch muffin, he felt his mouth water at the delicious sight. His thick broad tongue flashed out and laid itself fully into the warmly flowing furrow of her innocent cunt. He heard her voice rise again in helpless outrage, but he knew that he had her now, now that her resistance was broken.
"Will you fuck me all the time now, Mark?" Nancy pleaded, thrusting her vagina up to his invading cock. "Will you fuck me every day?"
"Anything you say, Nancy," he said, feeling his climax beginning to boil inside him. He was going to flood her with his pent-up, spurting juices, and she was going to have every drop. "I'm coming, Nancy, in your hot little cunt! I'm coming!"
"Oh, come in me Mark! Give me all you've got!" She squirmed and wiggled up at him harder and faster, the tide of her orgasm beginning to burst over her. Her juice gushed from her pussy and bathed his swinging balls while her young muscles clamped down on his shaft, sucking the creamy gift of his seed from him.
Mark roared his fulfilment as his climax exploded up from behind the root of his cock, firing the spurting mass of his sperm up the tunnel of his prick to spray messily inside the hot, swampy hole of her loving pussy. Together, they felt it gushing against her cervix, his seed invading her uterus and the very core of her femininity.
Mark Denning hammered his cock lustfully into the cunt of Clete Anderson's young fiancЋe, feeling the subterranean eruption of his sperm back behind the root of his cock. Nancy was mewling through one of her countless climaxes when he felt his ejaculation spray uncontrollably into the wet well of her cunt. "Oh, Mark, give it to me," she cried. "I want it, oh, I want it!"
"Here it is, Nancy, all of it," he moaned, draining his balls in her cunt, collapsing in the sweaty cradle of her young, perfect body, his softening shaft locked in the tight grip of her vagina. This girl was great! Almost made him forget that his own bride was a dog-fucking slut. There was one thought that hammered at his weary mind. Should he leave DesirЋe and make this girl his mistress? Should he stay with DesirЋe and make her his mistress? Either option, were it known, would be political suicide for a newly-elected officeholder. Not to mention having to brave the wrath of Clete Anderson. Both options seemed completely out of the question, so he would have to put them out of his mind for now and just enjoy the afterglow of this episode.
Nancy. DesirЋe. Nancy. DesirЋe. DesirЋe was his love, his life, and his wife, than whom there was no more beautiful woman alive, but she liked fucking dogs and that thought repulsed him. It further repulsed him and frightened him to remember that he had been excited, turned on, by the sight of her having frenzied, wild sexual intercourse with Lobo. Damn her!
But, bless her, it hadn't been her fault and now that he lay in the warm cradle of Nancy's sweet and sweaty body, he knew that he would have to forgive her, to exorcise the demon of his jealousy over her involvement with Lobo, which had been forced on her.
Damn it! Damn her! Damn Lobo! He had to be stopped, and Mark knew he would never be able to purge these feelings about DesirЋe until the wild animal's hide was tacked to the oak tree in the town square. Something would have to be done.
Lying with Nancy, his cock still plugging the well of her teenaged vagina, filled with his unusually copious load of semen, he stroked her smooth skin with light, loving fingertips, thoughts of revenge still bombarding his mind. The bounty on Lobo was now fifty thousand, but Jim Devereaux's offer of the same amount for each member of the dog pack killed, added up to a massive amount. He was tempted himself to take up a rifle and go a-hunting. But he knew little about guns and hunting, and the best person for the job was this girl's fiancЋ, Clete Anderson, though success would make him a wealthy man.
Mark owed it to DesirЋe and himself to see that these animals were exterminated as soon as possible. The smart thing to do would be to see that Clete got out there and found them right away and the way to do that was to stoke the black man up to get the job done. It was up to Mark to make sure that Clete knew about the huge rewards. There was no reason why he couldn't devote more time to the hunt, since the drug problem had strangely seemed to become very quiet lately.
Finally, after much thought, Mark drew his limp penis from the tender grip of Nancy's pussy, lifted himself from her sweet body, and began to dress.
"Where you going, Mark lover?" she said dreamily.
Looking down at the sperm-smeared, raw pout of her cunt, he said, "Going to see your boyfriend, Nance. Gotta make sure he bags that dog pack and makes himself a rich man."
Looking into the pink gash of DesirЋe's honeyed vagina, Clete felt that he was looking into the gates of heaven. The thick, straight hair was a rich, butterscotch color, lying in orderly fashion over the plump labia like the tendrils of a feather, thinning toward the bottom of the slit to that smooth, hairless short expanse of skin bordering on the pink-haloed dimple of her tiny anus, twitching there nervously. He lay his hands over her smooth inner thighs above her stockings, right next to her aromatic pubic foramen and laid his tongue again over the delicious dish, licking from anus to the clitoris, just now beginning to emerge from the small sheath of rosy flesh containing it, and he watched it swell and redden.
"Sweet pussy, sweet pussy," he muttered passionately between licks of the best-tasting appetiser he had ever had. DesirЋe was groaning with anguish, her flesh shuddering with feelings foreign and surprising to her. This black man was touching her in a way she would never let most white men think of touching her. But she was overwhelmed with the shock of what she had seen on the video tape. Now he was licking her vagina, her bumhole, her clitoris, and there, his tongue was sliding inside her, inside her feminine hole, as far as it could go while his chin pressed hard against that other hole beneath and his nose burrowed into her damp vulval pelt.
However, it didn't hurt, not at all, not physically, even though it was torture mentally. No, quite to the contrary, it didn't hurt, but rather felt strangely pleasant, in a nightmarish sort of way. This couldn't be happening, couldn't have happened before for that video tape, but it was, and it had, and she was rocked by the realisation that she had been unfaithful to Mark. She definitely didn't want to be again, but her needing, hungry, sexually-neglected body was answering each wipe and swipe and stab of his tongue with electric jolts of pleasure that darted from her hot, moistening pussy up through her womb and ovaries to her stiffly-tingling pink nipples, up to the very back of her neck, causing the hairs there to bristling as if she had been touched by a high-tension wire.
"Clete, oh Clete!" she cried. "You've got to stop. Pleeeeease." She gave a grunt of suppressed pleasure. "Yes, please stop. No one has ever done this to me. Ever."
Clete snorted and bored his tongue far up into her creaming love channel. "I don't know how you can say that," he said, reaching up above his head with both his arms to grab her great tits with his big hands. "What about Priscilla and that damned wild dog?"
"Wild dog? Priscilla?" DesirЋe shook her head, looking down at Clete's moving head between the mounds of her tits being manipulated by his big, meathook hands.
"Yes, remember?" he said, flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly against the head of her love button, causing her hips to squirm uncontrollably down toward her face. "That fucking Lobo, and your lover-doll friend Priscilla."
DesirЋe cried out again as vague memories tormented her burning brain. Vague flashes of Priscilla's hot, swampy pussy before her face, of the older girl licking her own in much the same way as Clete was doing now, and of being climbed upon by a huge, German Shepherd dog, tormented her mind. Clete must be lying, but why did she have these hallucinations? Was it Clete's suggestion creating unreal images, or were they really forgotten factual episodes? If she could only sort out the dreams from the realities, if she could only concentrate on the problem for a moment or two.
But Clete wasn't allowing her time to think, or to breathe, or to do anything but feel his seducing tongue on the sacred, private openings between her legs. He was trespassing on Mark's private property and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it, as the most amazing sensations shot through her loins.
Clete moved one hand down to the bottom drawer of the desk on which DesirЋe sat, slid it open, and took out the dildo he had hidden there. It was textured rubber and black in color, like his own penis, with a broadly-flaring head. It also had attached a parallel second penis, slimmer and slightly shorter, with less than an inch of space between itself and its larger brother. But the most interesting thing was the crescent-shaped bit, somewhat like a boxer's mouthpiece, attached to the end so that it could be held in the teeth. He had greased both coronas with pure, white surgical lubricant before putting it in the drawer, and he carefully moved it up to DesirЋe's soft, wet cunt.
Gripping the mouthpiece between his teeth, he quickly placed the larger dildo tip against the reluctant opening of her pussy, noting that the smaller one was aimed at her unsuspecting, innocent little asshole. Now, gripping her tits again with both hands, he used the muscles of his neck to slide the dual penises forward. DesirЋe yelped with alarm at the unexpected penetration, felt two inches invade her vagina before the smaller shaft pried it's way into her tight little anus. At first she thought that she was shitting in reverse, but then the dildos found their deepest depth and the ticklers in the joining of the probes stimulated her perineum in an eerily erotic and pleasant way.
To DesirЋe this was all beyond fantasy and beyond horror. Her long neglected vagina accepted greedily the attention he was giving it, the huge penetration of the soft rubber intruders. She struggled with herself, and visions of Mark flashed through her mind and her body wanted to imagine that it was his penis inside her pussy, causing her to grow wetter and wetter with each gentle probe. His hands were everywhere, stroking her tingling breasts, her fiery nipples, her tender belly, dipping into her pert navel, stroking her reflexively jerking flanks, delving into the cleft of her vulva and her ass. Her mental torment was heightened by her inability to control the fires of pleasure that were raging through her loins as the artificial penises sliced back and forth in her moist tenderness.
Clete's flexing neck slid the dildo in and out of her twin orifices, watching the inner linings clinging to the rubber on the outstroke and folding back in on the instroke. He could see every fold of her intimate flesh, every silken tendril of hair, as the artificial penises slid back and forth smoothly inside her. He loved the view of her perfect, young, nubile vagina and anus, and if he could have pushed his head up inside her slippery love channel and licked the very inside of her womb, he would have. He watched her aroused pink flesh clinging to the shuttling rubber shafts for a long time while DesirЋe's uncontrollable arousal grew and grew.
Clete used one hand to unfasten his pants and liberate his monster penis – much larger than what she was now accommodating – and as he released his oral grip on the dildo and stood up quickly, everything he wore slid to a ring around his ankles while he shrugged off his shirt, revealing the monstrous musculature of his upper body. Slowly drawing the artificial cocks out of her belly, he tossed them across the room, then took DesirЋe's two hands and drew her to a sitting position on the edge of the desk. DesirЋe's pleading eyes locked with his as he gripped his huge, grossly-swollen cock and directed the great, purple, blunt end against her softened, flooded pussy.
Cupping his hands over her plump buttocks he pulled her forward so that her thighs were spread wide by his muscular hips. Her eyes stared transfixed into the black wells of his own as he brought his face close to hers and she could smell the tobacco on his breath as he spoke.
"You're mine, DesirЋe, and don't you forget it. This is how it's going to be from now on, whenever I need you, whenever you need me. Every day, every day, until you understand who you belong to. Mine, Dez, mine."
And with those words he pressed forward with his enlarged, blood-engorged cock, driving it deeply, deeply, into her tiny, wet vagina. He moaned with the feel of her cuntal caress around his throbbing cock, heard her answering gasps, moved ahead until he was sunk inside her deeper than even he had gone before, the head of the ten and a half inches of gouging black flesh reaching as far as her navel.
Holding her unmoving, weak body tightly, he began fucking his cock gently but firmly in and out of her silky, slippery wet vagina, beginning his drive toward climax. Yes, he would fuck her every day now, every day until he was sure she was carrying his black child. He hoped for a son, a male heir to the Mitchell fortune which would be his key into the family when he had finally succeeded in prying her away from her stupid husband. She would be his, the mother of a dozen black children, a line that would start with this one, this baby that he was going to fuck into her belly right now. And he would be doing this to her at least every two or three days until he was sure she had his black embryo growing in her belly.
Thrusting wetly in and out of her vagina, he looked down at his glistening black cock vanishing into the furry pie of her cunt. Her head lolled back on a rubbery neck, her eyes glassy and half closed, her tits jiggling slightly when his belly bumped against her spread-open crotch.
"How's that, Dez?" he said gently, in a low voice. "How does my cock feel inside your pussy?"
Her eyes opened slightly, looking into his. She sighed, then gave a tiny grunt, her thighs lifting higher and wider, her cock-split pussy rolling up to receive his pleasure-giving penis. He continued fucking her, very carefully, all the way in so that the sparse, bristly hairs on his massive scrotum tickled her exposed anus. He watched her big breasts began heaving as her breathing quickened with her building passion. She had been too long without Mark's affection, too long without these deep feelings of intimacy. At least, as far as she knew, for she still had no clear recognition of any kind of relationship with Buchanan or Hemmings or Lobo or anyone else. What she dearly needed was affection, real and heartfelt, and it seemed that Clete was giving her that, at least much better than Mark had done lately. Part of her longed to be back in her father's house, safe and virgin and pampered, but she knew that was impossible with the stabbing reality of Clete's huge cock. It seemed to be made to pleasure her, so gut-stretchingly huge, pressing on every sensitive spot inside and outside her young, vibrant cunt.
"Come on, DesirЋe, lover, tell me what you're feeling," he panted against her cheek. He found her lips with his and while her arm finally reached up and twined about his neck, they kissed deeply, his hips never missing a stroke as he pumped in and out of her. "How does it feel."
Her mouth was against his ear, her body heaving, her hips rolling her vagina over his plunging black shaft. "Feels good, Clete darling," she panted. "Feels wonderful, you inside me." Her bent knees began rising and falling, jerking up and down beside his wide and muscular torso and she began whimpering with each deep thrust. Her lubricant wetted his shaft and balls, the underside of her splayed buttocks, flexing anus, and the surface of the desk.
"Oh, yes, Clete baby, it feels sooo good!" she cried, her bottom rolling smoothly on the desk, her pussy hungrily swallowing the cunt-splitting girth of the long cock with gentle, wet slurping sounds. "Keep doing it. Yes, keep doing it!"
His hands roaming her delicious flesh, Clete fucked her tight vagina for ten, fifteen more minutes, reaming her soaking pussy deeply and intimately with his massive cock, making an incredibly erotic sight of lily white flesh writhing against black, sweating, God-like muscle. DesirЋe moaned incoherently, pierced to the core with black cock, feeling an orgasm approaching. As her climax bloomed, Clete sped up his thrusts, leading her into it. He wanted her to orgasm until she burst, wanted her to remember this fuck every time she thought of him or of any man, and every time she looked at Mark Denning. He felt her juices gush hotly against him down below, bathing his belly and balls, felt her lithe and athletic body jerk spasmodically in his strong arms, her cunt clamping down painfully on the incredible thickness of his fucking penis. It was all he could do to hold his own climax, but he wanted to make this last.
When her shuddering orgasm had ceased, he held her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her eyes, nose, cheeks, chin, and lips tenderly until her felt the quivering of her pussy stop. Then he began to slowly draw out of her, saying, "Hope you liked it, DesirЋe. Now, there's something I want to do."
Carefully, he liberated her from her summer dress, which had been bunched around her waist, the tatters of her panties, the detached bra. Her garter belt he left there, with her stockings framing the area of intimacy in which he was most interested. She trembled as he did this, then gently turned her around to bend her over the desk top, her belly sliding on the slippery puddle left by her orgasm. Her breasts pressed tightly to the surface, she felt Clete press her buttocks apart, felt his breath in the deep cleft.
Clete loved the back of her. Her spine was a perfect indentation running from her upper back to the lower where a dainty dimple surmounted each perfect globe of her heart-shaped backside, the loaves so plump and tight that they parted automatically with her forward bent position. Her sweet, pinkish asshole winked up at him and he knew he wanted to watch it as he fucked them both to completion. Again, his tongue came out and licked that tingling anus, still wet from the flow of her orgasm. He heard her moan and licked again. And again. Pushed his tongue's tip into the tight, almost-unyielding anal vortex, harder, hearing her moan with surprise as the rim gave and his tongue slipped a half-inch into her rectum. Tasted her, loved her. He knew that he now knew her better, inside and out, than any other man, or dog, in the world.
Rising, he brought his inhumanly-sized penis up to her pulsating vaginal cleft, used his thumbs to part the plump labia, moved the glans into the raw, wet furrow, and pushed until the cuntal mouth opened and admitted the flaring, purplish-black head with a wet squelch.
DesirЋe's voice rose in a quavering wail of erotic feeling. She was his, completely aroused and surrendered to his will, at least for as long as her belly throbbed with desire for his giant, plunging cock. Slowly, watching the penetration, he shoved his black shaft inside her vagina, feeling her tightness enclose him again lovingly, the silky walls parting before the driving knob, parting in rippling waves like water before the bow of a boat. Holding her soft hips in his hands, he began very slowly fucking her again, savoring the feel of her young tissues sliding over his cock.
The incredibly aroused young bride rose to support her weight on her straightened arms, moving her hips back at his plunging, pleasure-giving cock with a natural, feminine copulatory grace. Her eyes were barely open as she fell in again with this sensual moment of joy, her big tits swinging tautly, bumping against her upper arms. The small of her back curved downward as her hips turned up to receive the thrusts of the great black penis into her vagina. Her dreamily-opened eyes saw but did not see through the venetian blinds into the more brightly-lit front office, the empty room where she had almost escaped from what was now being done to her, and as wonderfully good as her body felt now, she wondered if she shouldn't have moved just a little bit faster.
Now, she would have to learn to accept that she had done this, that she had let Clete, whom she had never liked, make love to her, put his thing into her. But she couldn't allow herself to go off the rails for this mistake. She would have to deal with it on her own terms, try to forget, and be really deeply loving to Mark. She could never tell him, or anyone else about this. These thoughts whirled through her mind as she bounced her jiggly buttocks back at Clete, meeting him stroke for stroke.
Clete was in heaven. She was really responding, to him, to his big, black cock. He could see how her oozing fluids had thickly coated his black, vein-gnurled shaft, making soft, liquid sucking sounds. He watched a few strands of her golden pubic hair clinging to his cock as he thrust in and out, in and out, smoothly, saw the froth of arousal collecting around the mouth of her pussy. He tickled her twitching asshole, flicked his fingertip at the jerking little opening, wet a finger in the gooey foam flecked around her vulva, and slid it into her hot, grasping asshole.
"Oh, Clete, what are you doing?" she whispered slowing the motions of her hips as the finger sank gradually deeper.
"Feeling my cock inside your pussy," he said, and with the finger felt the knob of his cock driving up and down in her vagina. "Feeling the head of my dick each time it runs by."
"Oh," she breathed quietly, accustoming her rectum to the intrusion, resuming her fucking motions. For now, she would accept whatever he did because she had to. Because she needed him to continue so she could come again. And again, if he let her.
Clete kept on, boffing her plump buns from behind, driving his huge, black cock into her tender, pink vagina, filling and emptying her, massaging her female organs with his driving shaft. On and on, bringing her, bringing both of them, to the brink of orgasm again and again, for a long time, until she was nothing but a mass of needing, whimpering woman flesh. All that mattered was her drive to fulfilment and her body moved with a will of its own.
Clete felt he could no longer postpone his ejaculation, felt he must finally allow them both release, when the front door in the outer office opened. DesirЋe's eyes opened wider but her freely-moving body did not pause in its movements until she saw with her cloudy eyes as Mark stepped in and looked around. She stopped her bouncing bottom for a moment only, then resumed her fucking, the breath bursting in her bosom. She had to come! They both had to come and they couldn't stop now for anything.
DesirЋe wondered if he could see her there in the darker room, moving like a rutting animal with Clete plunging into her cunt from behind. Clete never stopped for a moment. For him, this was the apex of revenge on his hated enemy, fucking the seduced wife on the other side of a pane of glass while Mark looked around for him.
The big, black lust-filled sheriff slowed his fuck-strokes into DesirЋe's gripping pussy and he heard her moan as her race to climax slowed as well. Mark stopped, appearing to have heard the sound, stared at the half-shut venetian blinds toward the origin of the sound. The girl, breathing heavily, froze in horror, but couldn't stop from rotating her cunt sensuously on the thick spit of Clete's cock. Spellbound, Clete held her hips still, hoping the young husband would not detect the shape or movement of his bride having sex with the sheriff in the next office. Clete knew he should go to the front office and speak with the councillor but he could not stand to draw his aching cock from the sweet warmth of DesirЋe's hot vagina. It belonged in there and would not come out.
Both of the fucking couple watched trembling while Mark stared long at the glass, wondering if he saw movement, and if he did, whether he could discern it.
Mark stood in the outer office. He thought he had heard a woman's voice beyond the glass and he strained his eyes to detect movement. Where was Clete? Was he out on the hunt, or was he in back? Beyond the counter, the door to the back office was ajar. Did the black man know he was here? If he did, he must know that it was important. Mark did not make frequent trips to the station as Clete had never been a friend, and his own conscience at having had sex with his fiancЋe made him feel unsure about speaking with him at any time. Now it was worse, for he had just promised Nancy to see her very, very often on very, very intimate terms.
Clete started fucking DesirЋe again, restraining his animal grunts and groans, revelling in the heightened feelings of pleasure she was giving him after the brief rest. Her pussy was sucking audibly at his meaty shaft and her anus gripped his finger tightly. His eyes still on Mark, he sped the rhythm of his fucking thrusts, then squeezed a second finger into DesirЋe's asshole as her hips churned needfully.
DesirЋe had tried to stop but her feelings carried her on. She had to come! She couldn't stop now, not after what she'd been through, all the hurt of Mark's attitude toward her of late. Her body was acting of its own accord. She wanted to die. It was wildly disgusting that she should be committing adultery with this black man that she had loathed while watching her own beloved husband pacing in the office just beyond the glass. Stop! Run! Confess! Tell him about your wickedness and beg his forgiveness!
But sweet DesirЋe's hips kept moving, shoving her burning vagina back on Clete's massive cock, sheathing it again and again in her feminine warmth. No, let it never stop!
Clete felt himself beginning to come and he expertly brought DesirЋe along with him, angling the tip of his cock toward her cervix where he planned to deposit his virile, life-giving seed. He felt it coming, just twenty or thirty more strokes, and the girl beneath him was bucking wildly, her moans spilling unchecked from her full, red lips.
Mark heard it, heard Clete's groans, heard the girl's gasps of overwhelming passion as the battering ram of Clete's black cock hammered wetly through her inhibitions and all she held dear and sacred. Her sweet cunt was no longer her own, no longer the private property of her beloved husband, but now free for the use of the evil, black sheriff.
Mark listened, heard the panting, the wet smackings of sex, but without associating the sounds with what they really represented. To him it was just that Clete must be back there, perhaps talking to some woman. Well, he could be interrupted for a really important matter like this, the finishing off of the dog pack that had brought about Nancy Pace's downfall. He walked through the gap in the counter and pushed open the door to the back office.
And froze. It was really a sight to behold. Clete, teeth bared in a rictus of orgasmic release, his giant black cock plunging animalistically into the delicate, pink pussy of a round-assed, big-titted blonde. From where he stood in shock, he could not see the girl's face, his view of her above the neck obscured by the door jamb, but Clete was not letting Mark's presence slow him down at all as he shafted the lovely body bent over the desk before him, two of his dark brown fingers stretching her tiny asshole.
Clete saw Mark standing in the doorway, frozen in an embarrassed position, his hand extended before him. It was too late for Clete to take evasive action. His cock was throbbing, exploding with the joy of his climax while DesirЋe's quaking cunt clamped wetly down on it, receiving the heavy load of virulent sperm that began to erupt up from his swinging balls. Jamming the spouting head against her innocent cervix, Clete held it there, bathing the entrance of her womb with his hot juice and teeming millions of tiny, wriggly sperm. With a growl he held his cock there for a moment, then began making the last pleasurable thrusts of his orgasm into the girl's exploding belly.
He stopped, holding his cock buried in DesirЋe's cunt, plugging her hole to keep the sperm up inside her. Wearily, he looked at the shocked councillor.
"Do you mind, man?" Clete said irritatedly. "I'm fucking."
"I-I'm sorry, Clete," Mark stammered. "I d-didn't know."
"Well, give me a while will you?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Mark said quickly. "Sorry, I…"
"Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute to get my shit together."
Mark backed out, not wanting to see the girl's face. He had already seen too much, and he didn't want to know. "I'll come back in a half-hour. That all right?"
"Close the door behind you." Clete growled, and collapsed over DesirЋe's sweat-slickened body, his two fingers still locked in her asshole while his huge cock softened very slowly in her cunt, contentedly draining the last of his thick, rich semen into her.
They stayed like that for a long time, the sheriff's black penis, limp but still huge, damming the flow of his cum in DesirЋe's pussy while it soaked into the raw, tingling walls of her insides. Clete's eyes searched the beauty of her pink flesh, flushed with the glow of sex. Her face turned sideways on the desk, was quiescent and contented for a long time. Then, gradually, he felt her begin to shake with grief. One hand covered her face and the tears flowed onto the table.
"What have I done?" she moaned. "Oh, what have I done?"
Clete moved off her, rolled her over and cupped his hands over her shaking tits. "What's wrong? Don't you love me, Dez?"
DesirЋe sat up, trying to cover her nakedness, way too late. She picked up her wrinkled dress, and turning her back to him, slipped into it. She turned without looking at him, her tearful gaze directed at the floor.
"Dez!" he insisted.
She looked up, her sad eyes guarded. "I love Mark," she said in a small voice. "Only Mark, and I've betrayed him terribly." Her face dissolved into the most heart-rending sight of grief Clete had ever seen, and now that his lust was sated, it touched even his hard heart. Her tears flowed down her lovely cheeks and the sheriff found himself rushing to comfort her. He tried without words, but only found that her tears were soaking his bulging pectorals. He hurried to the bathroom, looking for a Kleenex, searched desperately until he found the box, and brought it back to her.
When he returned to her she was closing her purse and slipping one foot into a shoe.
"Thanks," she said, mopping at her flushed face and eyes. "I've got to go."
Clete smiled, but found no like answering expression in her. "You'll be back, sweetie. Don't forget that." He palmed one of her luscious tits and kissed her pouting mouth. "You'll be coming back quite often, so I hope you learn to deal with it."
DesirЋe glanced down at the oversized hose that swung between his legs and shuddered, unable to believe that that thing had been inside her just a minute before and that she had enjoyed it as she had never enjoyed anything else in her life.
Without any further comment, she turned and hurried out of the office, to the front door and out into the street. She had been unable to salvage her torn panties, and before she reached her car, she felt a telltale glop of Clete's creamy sperm exit her still-burning vagina and drip to the pavement beneath her, streaking her nylon stocking on the way. She looked down at the puddle and shivered. He had pumped her full of it and she suddenly felt a need for a shower.
At the car, she found a tissue and wadded it between her legs, over the swampy wet muff of her pussy. She put the keys in the ignition, started the car, and looked around. She didn't think anyone had seen her come out of the station, but she would have to leave the area before Mark returned to meet with Clete. Still, she had accomplished one thing while the lecherous, dishonest sheriff had been in the bathroom searching for something to dry her very real tears. Opening her purse, she took out the video tape that she had retrieved from the machine in the office. Now to find a very deep river.
And call Tanya and Robin for a little girls' get-together. She just couldn't be alone right now. Brooding on her horrible sin would drive her mad.
But DesirЋe was to have no respite from her aching conscience that night. James Devereaux answered for Robin and said that she was not well, and Rodney, still housesitting at DesirЋe's parents' home, answered the phone, sounding exhausted and harried, saying that Tanya was out he knew not where.
Of course, he would sound harassed, for in his quest for news of the wild dog pack he had let a great many things go, leaving himself in serious financial difficulties back home. DesirЋe felt sorry for him, so glad that she knew nothing that would interest him, except what Liz had told her months before.
So when Mark was suddenly summoned to a meeting with Sid Buchanan, the guilty young woman was left alone to agonise alone over her behaviour of the day. On the one hand, she was glad that she would not have to spend the evening with Mark while the memory was fresh of herself bending over the sheriff's desk with his huge cock thrusting in and out of her traitorously wet and responsive vagina while Mark unwittingly stared at her from just a few feet away. But it also meant that she, social person that she was, would have to suffer in solitude with the flames of her conscience.
She considered calling Pastor Hemmings, but in her shame discarded that idea. No one must know, least of all the pastor, even though that was what he was there for. So she watched television all night until exhaustion put her to sleep at four o'clock.
However, she felt lucky when she connected the next day with both her friends, Robin and Tanya, and they made plans for a little coffee klatch at the Mitchell mansion for two that afternoon. Tanya was housesitting while DesirЋe's parents were travelling in Europe.
At that hour, they sat comfortably in the great lounge of the house DesirЋe had lived in until just two months earlier, and it was Tanya, little devil that she sometimes could be, that introduced the idea of adding whiskey to the coffee, and then gin and vodka to tonic, until even Robin, the only one of them still in her teens, began to show a certain lightheadedness.
They talked, as women love to talk, and Robin mentioned the day Priscilla had ridden out into the hills and come back with Dr. Hemmings.
"She's been in there ever since," Robin said, "and I've only seen her once. Uncle Jim has been in there with her, and he's raised the reward on the dog pack."
Tanya looked up knowingly, but said nothing. She had no intention of telling them what she knew about Lobo and his offspring. "What do you suppose happened out there, Robin?" Tanya asked. "Think it was the dogs?"
Robin's blue eyes opened wide in fright. "I don't know. I hadn't thought of that? Do you suppose…"
"It's too horrible to think about," DesirЋe hastened to say. "Even to a girl like Priscilla."
Tanya said, "Maybe Priscilla got just what she needed."
"Tanya, that's mean," DesirЋe said.
"Don't I get to speak an opinion?" Tanya shot back.
"Of course," said Robin. "But I wouldn't wish that on anyone." The youngest girl's eyes seemed to cloud over with her own thoughts. Her lovely mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes misted with obvious consternation.
"What's wrong, baby?" Tanya asked, moving over to sit beside her younger friend. "What's wrong? Come on, you can tell us."
Robin looked up at Tanya, then to DesirЋe. "I-I'm too ashamed to say."
DesirЋe moved over to Robin's other side and put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Whatever you tell us goes no farther than this room."
Robin dropped her face to her hands, stifled a sob, and dried her cheeks of the tears that suddenly began to course down them. "I'm having an affair."
DesirЋe was shocked. Robin, an affair?
Tanya was nowhere near upset or shocked. "Good for you, darling."
"Tanya!" DesirЋe exclaimed reprovingly.
"No, no, why not?" Tanya retorted. "I'm having one too."
DesirЋe's eyes widened. "Does Rodney know?"
"'Course not," Tanya said. "He's too busy chasing the Pulitzer pups. His dick has gone so limp he could rope a dog with it."
"Tanya!" said DesirЋe and Robin in unison.
"Well, that's the way it is," the older girl said. "I've always been true blue, except for a few erotic fantasies, but house sitting isn't all it's cracked up to be when you're totally alone and there's no money to even go out for a hamburger."
"Who is it?" Robin asked.
Tanya shook her head. "No, sweetie, you first."
Tanya and DesirЋe looked expectantly at the innocent-faced teenager. "I don't think…" She looked at her friends. "No, it's just too awful."
DesirЋe didn't press her, but Tanya did. "Come on, darling, let's play the game."
DesirЋe was surprised to hear her old friend speak this way. She sounded a bit like her other friend Liz when she spoke thus.
"Uncle-Uncle Jim," she said under her breath.
"Say again," Tanya urged. "You're going to have to talk a bit louder for us deaf girls."
Robin took a deep breath and said loudly, "Uncle Jim. It's my Uncle Jim Devereaux. We've done it three times and I feel terrible about it."
To DesirЋe's chagrin, Tanya laughed. Where had Tanya lost her sense of propriety? She certainly wasn't the girl she had known in high school. That Tanya would have been at least mildly shocked, but Tanya's laugh seemed callous.
"Tell me more," Tanya said. "With Rodney out chasing this phantom dog pack, I don't get much excitement at all."
DesirЋe shivered at the mention of the dogs. Something in the back of her mind was trying to get out, and whatever it was, it frightened her to her delicate bones.
Robin sniffed, wiped her pretty cheeks, and then the words seemed to tumble out, like a repentant Catholic girl in a confessional.
"I was riding, oh, three days ago. It was the day Priscilla had some trouble out in the hills and came back all beat up. I was trying to catch her, but I wasn't good enough at riding to control the horse. He bolted, ran away with me and I'd have gone over the ravine if Uncle Jim hadn't caught me. Pulled me right off the horse's back as if he were Superman."
Almost panting with the excitement, DesirЋe and Tanya looked at her expectantly.
"I-I was so upset," Robin went on. "So shaken up that I lost control – of everything. Wet myself. Uncle Jim took me into the bathroom. I was weak with fear. He took off my clothes. He-he-he licked me. With his tongue. He put his fingers in me, and licked me, underneath. I couldn't move. I wanted to move, I tried, but my arms wouldn't move. Then he-he put his thing in me."
Robin took a deep breath. "I've never felt anything like it, and it felt good. Really, really good, and there must be something wrong with me, because I liked it. Nobody ever told me – Yes, yes, they did, in high school, but I didn't believe them. I didn't believe them. Oh, what will become of me now?"
Robin buried her face in her hands and began to sob. DesirЋe put an arm around her shoulders and spoke softly.
"Don't cry, Robin darling," the blonde girl said. "It happens to every girl someday. And I-I'm having an affair."
Now DesirЋe saw Robin's eyes swing toward her, saw the grin light Tanya's face.
"Wow," the oldest girl said. "Have I been missing something here?" Tanya folded her arms and looked from DesirЋe to Robin jealously. "My silly husband is out trying to track down these dogs, neglecting me, and my best friends are getting shagged at their convenience."
DesirЋe said, "That's not how it was."
"How was it then?" Tanya said.
"I – was coerced," DesirЋe said. "I didn't just sneak off to do it."
"You mean, you were raped." Tanya said.
Robin gasped, but DesirЋe said, "No, of course not. I was lured into a compromising position, and it – just happened."
"Things like that don't just happen," Tanya said.
And now it was DesirЋe's turn to cry. But she didn't have long to dwell on her problems. The phone rang. While the other girls watched her, she went to the phone and caught it on the fourth ring. He face went from expectant to distressed and she hung up. Her friends watched as she spun on her expensive high heels and started for the door.
"Gotta go, Tanya, Robin," she said brusquely, her hand on the doorknob. "I've got to get to Mark." And she was out the door before they could even ask for a clarification.
Tanya and Robin looked at each other quizzically.
As DesirЋe ran to her car, two big, yellow eyes watched her from fifty feet away. She was into her car and moving away so fast that even Lobo, his loins flaming with canine love and lust, could not catch up to her before the trim little car was moving away at speed. He was disappointed to have missed her again, for his occasional trips by her other home were always impeded by barred and locked windows, and only by chance had he come across her in this, the locale of their first lewd coupling over two months previously.
Lobo was in the habit of stopping by this house, nearly every day, to pay a visit to the hot-bodied, darker-haired young woman who had been entertaining his three sons at Liz Clark's house. His bestial balls had learned to expect a daily copulation here with Tanya, and so after a brief wistful look in DesirЋe's direction, he circled around behind the large, rambling house to wait patiently by the bedroom window. He detected the aroma here of three females, one of them, DesirЋe, who had now departed, and one of them Tanya, who he knew well. There was a third fresh and delicate odor, however, with which he was not familiar. It was sweet and pleasant, like DesirЋe, and his male instincts drove him toward it, toward the need to mate and propagate, to plant his seed inside another fresh, young female's pure womb.
And there, at the window of the room where he had first possessed the body of his dear DesirЋe, Lobo sat down to wait, though not patiently…
DesirЋe drove frantically toward the spot where she had been told that Mark lay injured in a twisted wreck. The mysterious voice had filled her with panic as it told her the brief and harrowing story. But what was Mark doing out there on the road to the old Pace farm? He was supposed to be upstate working on some deal with Sid Buchanan. So why wasn't he there when he should have been? He had said he was going straight to the airport yesterday. Why wasn't he where he was supposed to be?
The somewhat uneven road beat at the underside of her tires as she pushed her little car through the countryside, her heart pounding in her chest. Mark! Mark! Mark! I'm coming to you, my darling. Where are you?
And then, over the rise, she saw something. A car. Yes, it must be there! A car, yes, but not Mark's. Sideways across the road, blocking it. She put her foot down on the brake and stopped with a skid. Jumped out. Ran to the car. Yes, the wreck must be just beyond that car. Mark! Two men standing there, and they looked familiar, but from where? Mark! Mark!
"Mark!" she cried, glancing at the two men, then beyond. Nothing. "Where's Mark?" she asked the two men, bracing herself with her hands on the car. "Please!"
The two men smiled, then said, "Get in. We'll take you to him."
"Yes, yes, but let's hurry."
One of them held the door open for her and she clambered into the back. They got into the front seat and, one of them, righting the car in its position on the road, moved the car carefully, and too slowly, down the road toward the Pace estate.
"Oh, please, hurry!" she pled, balling her hands into fists in her lap. "Mark needs me."
One of them turned around with a thin smile and said, "DesirЋe, don't worry about a thing. We'll get you to where you must be right away."
And the car moved ahead into the rolling hills of the countryside where the two men, Sam Quaid and Billy Canning had organized DesirЋe's final day of life, and Billy's ideas of revenge against Clete Anderson, who they knew loved this beautiful blonde girl. There, at the old Pace mansion, where they had set up cameras, plastic bags, and scalpels and a bone saw, they had planned to murder DesirЋe, to photograph her death and the dismemberment that they would subsequently perform on her lovely body, to subsequently send the hacked-off pieces to Clete as revenge for his murder of Billy's brother Johnny.
But DesirЋe, oblivious to their plans, sat quietly, though apprehensively, and they drove her to the horrible fate they planned for her.