The fear that hung heavy over the town of Crescent Valley was reflected in the faces of its citizenry the following morning. On the streets, in the shops and within its several bars, men gathered to recount the terrifying rape of little Annie Purcell in solicitous tones punctuated with vile curses, their anger at Deputy Sheriff Mark Blakely for refusing to allow a hunting posse into the hills, an open vent for their concealed inner-panic. Something had to be done and right away! It wasn't just a matter of protecting their livestock any longer, not when a ferocious wild dog dared to slink into town and with incredible beastliness actually force a defenseless young girl to her knees and rape her right on the streets!
"Hunt the bastards down, I say!" a whiskey drinking, sallow faced customer at the bar of the Crescent Inn Tavern exclaimed with fist-thumping emphasis. "Chief Morgan's right! Take a posse into those hills and gun the sonsofbitches…!"
"Easier said than done, Dirk," a second drinker put in. "I was with 'em the other night when Link got the fawn bitch. That pack's as tricky's a bevy of minx. If it hadn't been that she was pregnant, the bitch would've gotten away, too… and she was running alongside the big German Shepherd with the gold medal…"
"You saw that medal… I mean actually saw it with your own eyes?" the first drinker questioned.
"Hell yes, I saw it! Didn't I say so?" the second one proudly insisted. "A big friggin' brute he is too, I'll tell you!"
"The way I hear it, the Purcell girl saw that thing around the dog's neck last night when it… it attacked her!" the first drinker said, his liquored eyes growing slanted, a certain lewd glint mingled with uneasiness mirrored in them.
"I hadn't heard that," the other replied; then, lowering his voice and leaning closer, he added with an obscene little grin: "But if it was that big bastard, she sure got that tight young pussy of hers full up with cock, I'll tell you…!"
"Watch it, here comes Link," the first drinker warned. "Morning, Chief. How's little Annie?"
"As well's can be expected," the big man glowered, accepting the space at the middle of the bar the group quickly made for him. "Poor kid's still half scared to death. Sits in a corner staring out the window when she ain't crying. Goddamnit, I'll tell you straight out, I'm going to get that fucking brute, and when I do it'll wish it'd never been born!"
"What do you mean, Link, a posse…?"
"That's the only way, and you all know it as well as I do!" the burly police chief snapped.
"What about Mark Blakely, Chief?" someone questioned.
"He's got twenty-four hours to do whatever he's going to!" Link authoritatively replied. "And if he ain't brought in that beast and its raping pack by then, I'm getting together a bunch of guns to go up into those hills with me, and I guarantee you that I'll bring the fucking bastard back!"
"You're right, Link… ain't he, boys?" someone loudly prompted, raising an enthusiastic clamor of approvals… as if in numbers they had lessened the uncanny menace they shared in fear…
While in kitchens throughout the town, and over backyard fences, women spoke in whispering, apprehensive tones, their unhideable anxiety causing their voices to tremble, as did those of the children and teenagers walking in groups toward the schools, their young faces ashen with frightened expressions. No one of the small town's populace had seemed to have been spared their share of the spectral horror, Jean thought, hurrying toward the Obert's down the street, determined to learn what she could from the withered, pipe-smoking old lady who stared blindly from her rocking-chair and spoke in an aged, cackly voice.
Jean had fitfully slept without Mark beside her the remainder of the night, and at dawn when he'd finally arrived home, his haggard face had frightened her. In reluctant bits and pieces while she'd prepared his breakfast, he'd choked out scraps of the abominable rape, leaving her to piece them together and stare at her young husband in shocked awe. Then, before she could question him further, he was on his feet and moving toward the door.
"You're not leaving now, Mark? Darling, you haven't slept all night. You must be exhausted…"
"I'm fine, baby," he'd replied forcing a smile as he bent down to kiss her. "I've got some things to do… should be back in a few hours."
"Mark… please… there's something terribly weird and unreal about all of this, and I'm not exactly an educated scaredy-cat… but why don't you talk to Granny Obert…?"
"Please, Jean!" he had snapped her up short. "I've got enough to contend with this morning without listening to a conglomeration of stupid myths. Why don't you bake a pie, or something? I won't be too long…"
And with that, he was gone, his patrol car "laying rubber" as the teenagers said, when he'd sped away from the curb. She'd been angry, but that, too, had soon passed once she had reviewed what he'd told her, the terrifying story bringing her to sit on the edge of a chair before the wrinkled, parchment-like skinned woman who puffed incessantly at a corn-cob pipe.
"Heh…!" the old woman grunted, her mouth spreading wide in a display of toothless gums. "I futured you coming Jean Blakely. Saw you in this old brain o' mine… an' I know why, too! It's him, Caesar, the wild one, ain't it, girl?"
"Th-the dog… the leader… yes. Is that his name?" Jean heard herself question, her voice trembling at the aged woman's revelations and tone, watching the other rhythmically rock her chair in tempo to her puffing at the pipe.
"Yes… that was his name then… and that's it now," she cackled. "You can see it on the medallion… the eagle, the symbol of the Roman battle standard… and the name… Caesar! Near… near a century ago, girl, when… when I was just a squallin' child, he came with his pack… but I remember… remember well! Yes… I remember well!"
"He… they… the pack came last night, Granny," Jean said, fighting the dryness of her throat. "A girl… a young girl was raped… actually raped by him, or one of them…!"
"It was him! He did it! Caesar… and I can tell you why!" the little wizened woman said, momentarily leaning forward. "They killed his mate! Link Morgan, that filthy brute killed Caesar's mate! Revenge, girl! That's what he come for, revenge!"
"But… but… my God, Granny, you're talking about… a… a dog!"
For a long moment, the aged woman didn't answer, only puffed unseeingly at her pipe as she rocked. Then: "Thinking, young lady… that's what I been doing. Tryin' to decipher the most positive way to make you understand." She doubtingly shook her head. "It ain't the same anymore… young folk just don't listen…"
"Please, Granny, tell me!" Jean pleaded.
Again, the old woman sat in silence, letting spurts of bluish, tobacco smoke out with colorless lip-popping sounds. Then: "All right, little golden girl, I'll tell you! But don't question me… just accept, or forget what I tell you. Understand…?"
"Y-yes, Granny… I understand…"
"Well then, he ain't just a dog… oh, he's a dog now, and has been that for a century or more… but he ain't just a dog!"
"Wh-What…?"
"Hush up and listen, girl, 'cause I'm only going to tell you this once!" the small, shriveled woman exclaimed. "What he was before, or what he'll be again, ain't important either. What he is right now is what counts! And he's a beautiful animal, wearing the medallion he once earned 2,000 years ago in battle! Yes, he raped the Purcell girl, and there may well be more! They won't catch him, stop him, shoot him… and neither will they drive him off! This was his valley a hundred years ago, and well do I remember that! A handful of people lived in the settlement, and my own daddy was the lawman! Posses went out to hunt the raiders when the sheep were killed, and time after time they rode in exhausted, and empty-handed. There was no catching the wild-pack, let alone its leader… a great German Shepherd with a medallion around its neck…!"
"M-My God! Are you saying that this… this Caesar was their…?" Jean cried, spellbound in her spine-chilling, mesmerization.
"Hush, girl! Hear me out this one time!" the old woman insisted, lowering her voice. "Soon, my daughter will make you leave… so listen now! My mother was a Cherokee squaw. My father, an Indian trader, bought her and took her away from her people… brought her here and claimed land in the valley. When Caesar and the pack came, she warned him about what would happen, but he didn't believe her. Girls were raped, and scared, drunken men died in the hunt, shooting each other as they tried to destroy the pack! But there was no destruction, no elimination of that passel of wild beasts! Nothing… until one day they suddenly left of their own accord… but with them went my mother and several more Crescent Valley women and girls… went of their own accord because they wanted to… and to what, blonde girl? To what…? Heh… what do you think?"
Jean could only sit there and gape at her unseeing, aged, story-teller in breathless awe. She shook her lovely head as if to throw off the illusory cobwebs the old woman had spun. It had to be the monotone of her voice, Jean thought, getting to her feet. She had nearly hypnotized her…!
"I know… I know," Granny Obert said, rocking her chair and puffing at her pipe. "You've decided I'm some sort of old witch, haven't you, Jeannie girl! Well… that's the first stages of belief, my mother used to tell me… recognizing a witch when you see one…!"
The withered woman was still laughing when she left, rocking, smoking, laughing, and Jean doubted if she'd heard her goodbye… but that hardly mattered to her. As she waked slowly toward her own house, she was only concerned with how soon Mark would return home…
"Let's have another round of drinks, here, Ted!" Link Morgan ordered, grinning and massaging his heavy-bearded chin. "The men are with me. Blakely has twenty-four hours… and that takes him up to shortly after midnight tonight… then, we take over. Right, boys?"
"Right!" the resounding answers came from the men moving in tight to the bar for their free drinks.
"Take over what, Link?" Mark questioned, standing inside the doorway to the Inn's barroom. "What do you have in mind?"
Slowly, the powerful, barrel-chested man turned to face his chosen enemy, his drinking cohorts falling into a sudden silence. A dozen, maybe more, verbal retaliations raced through Link Morgan's brain at that particular moment. But none of them seemed appropriate. He ran his tongue wetly over his thick lower lip and said, "The girl raped was my niece, Deputy! Had it been that new young wife of yours with her cunt split wide open by that dog, how would you feel?"
Mark stood fast, his strong face ungiving. But he hadn't expected that jab. He took several steps into the room and stopped again, his tired brain racing for answers. He suddenly had a whole town to placate, he realized.
"I'm not questioning the nightmare that's happened, Link," he replied in a level tone. "There isn't a man in here, along with myself, who doesn't feel the utmost sympathy for Annie… and who doesn't want to see that dog pack destroyed! But it has to be… is going to be, done by proper authorities! Just as I told you last night, Link, I don't intend to see a flock of wild, half-drunken men with rifles and shotguns out there blazing away at each other!"
The big man resoundingly set his drink on me bar, turning fully to face the uniformed deputy sheriff. Accordingly, his own shrewd brain was racing for answers. He said: "And supposing your proper authorities don't bring that sonofobitch down, Deputy? Suppose we move into another night when wild dogs can slink into town and gang-fuck young, innocent girls?"
"I've thought of that, too," Mark replied. "The best thing I believe we can do is post armed sentries… volunteers to guard the streets…"
"Oh Christ, that's wonderful!" Link grinned. "Now, we've got to put guards on our streets to safeguard our homes and families…!"
"That ain't a bad idea, Chief," one of the big man's friends put in.
"Shut up!" Link barked at him without moving his head.
Mark couldn't help but momentarily relive the episode of his dad's controversy with Link Morgan in this very room those seven years past! And that had been over nothing more than a sporting bet on a horse race, one word leading to another until they'd met bare-chested in the street and his father had unmercifully beaten Link with his fists. Less than two weeks later, his dad had been accidentally shot on a cougar-hunting posse… shot and killed by Link Morgan…!
"It's your jurisdiction, Link," Mark said, moving further into the room. "Do whatever you think best. That was only a suggestion."
"Some Goddamned situation when you've got to post sentries in a modern town to protect its citizens!" the gray-haired, huge man spat, picking up his drink. "You might just as well know, Blakely, that I've called Frank Hester about this! I don't think he's going to sanction any wild dog pack raping a town's women, either…!"
"Deputy Blakely! Sir… telephone!" Ted Green, the bartender motioned. "You can take it in the lobby… right over there, Sir."
"Thanks," Mark replied, thinking of Link calling the sheriff as he walked toward the phone booth. He'd undoubtedly done it, all right, called Sheriff Hester at the County Seat to try and throw some weight around. But Mark wasn't worried about that. Sheriff Frank Hester had taken Link Morgan's measure a long time back. Frank was a dedicated man, unmoved by politics…
"Hello," he said, tiredly reclining against the booth's wall.
"Mark…?" an unmistakable feminine voice questioned.
"Yes, Lydia, this is Mark," he answered, suddenly wondering what had kept her from calling this long. "How are you?"
"So so, I suppose… but that isn't why I called you, Mr. Deputy," the husky female voice proclaimed. "We lost four sheep and three dogs last night. The sheep we can stand, Darling, the dogs… no. It's that Goddamned pack again. What're you going to do about it?"
"Join it, I think."
"What…?"
"Nothing… just babbling. I'll be out to take a look?"
"Well… I'd hoped you might. How's the new married existence?"
Mark detected the acid in her tone. "Beautiful," he snapped. "Absolutely beautiful!"
"She doesn't befit you, Markey baby," the throaty voice came back, evenly, yet cutting. "From what they tell he, she's quite a doll. Has the appearance of being unplucked… that right, Darling?"
He sensed the hackles on the nape of his neck rising. "I'll be right along, Lydia."
"And I'll be at the front gate waiting with two horses and a picnic lunch. It's all up on the west range, lover."
"Never mind any lunches," he said, remembering the untold number they had partaken of on the A and B. "I only have a few minutes…" and that's what he repeated as he climbed onto the back of the waiting sorrel she had readied for him. "I only have a few minutes, Lydia…"
"I know," the auburn haired girl in riding shirt, blouse and boots replied, sitting tall and lovely in the saddle and holding her big bay with skilled horsemanship. "Word carries fast here in the valley, Deputy. My hands tell me that Annie Purcell was deflowered last night, and by dear old Caesar."
Mark couldn't help but glare at her severly attractive young face. "That's not to be taken lightly, Miss Newell," he snapped, reining the sorrel to his presence on the animal's back, and simultaneously weighing his proximity to this twenty-six year old girl he'd known too many years. "The town's is in an uproar."
"I'd expect that… with Link Morgan spiking it. Right?"
"Right."
"Well… while that Caesar bastard was cavorting in town his uglies were raising hell with our sheep, Darling," she said, her large green eyes engulfing him. "We can stand the herd loss, but they killed three of my best dogs. Something has to be done, Mark."
"We're contemplating that, Lydia," Mark said, heeling the sorrel into motion. "In the meantime, you can make a government claim for your losses…"
"Oh? Don't be ridiculous, lover. You know me better than that… besides, I wouldn't know how to begin without Daddy here," she answered, moving along beside him in a walk, making him remember the untold, numerous hours and days they had spent together.
He might have married her, he abruptly thought; it had been that intimately close between them. In fact, he'd carried the supposition for years… before he'd come to realize that he was below her station. He said: "Is Aaron still in Australia?"
"The last I heard… but he was contemplating a trip to Spain. Seems if he's met a senorita of sorts who inspires him… and you know Daddy…"
"Not really… but I tried, you'll have to admit that," Mark countered with a smile.
"Ohhh… come on, baby," Lydia laughed. "You were too close to the family not to read every one of us, eh?"
"Maybe… maybe you're right, Lyd," he answered, his tired mind rehashing it all. "Maybe you are right! All the way down to the marrow… and now, let's get a look at those dead animals, eh?"
"What did you mean by that… all of the bullshit, I mean! What?" she vulgarly snapped at him. "Right down to the marrow… what?"
"The west range, you said?" Mark questioned, purposefully half-rearing the sorrel before again digging his heels into her flanks. "I'm going to give her a run! She's aching! Stay with me and take the lead, eh?"
With that, he was gone, the powerful animal readily stretching its legs into a gallop as he expertly posted with it. Ahead lay the rolling, lower greened hills with the great ones beyond where the wild dog pack wandered, and he couldn't help but think of those night creatures as he raced forward in the warmth of the morning sunlight. There could never be anything sinister here, he thought, his weary brain coming alive again as the great animal raced beneath him and the fresh morning air whipped at his face!
He let her go her limit, never reining her waiting for her to fall into her stride… a lope and finally a keen, uphill walk. Lydia brought the bay up beside him, drawing the animal to a similar walk.
"Was that supposed to be a race?" she lightly taunted.
"Hell, you know better. This gal wanted to run and I gave her head. Where're the dead animals?"
"Back there. A mile or better… but what's the difference? You believe me, don't you?" she said, suddenly swinging down from her mount and making toward tethering it.
"Whoa, baby," Mark commanded, then swung down, moving around to manipulate the harness for the sorrel to graze. After, he saw a likely spot with a backing-rock and dropped before it, considering the hard mound as a pillow. In seconds, Lydia was beside him… and he'd expected that.
"Sort of like old times isn't it, Darling?" she huskily whispered, stretching out so that their bodies touched.
"Sort of… but not quite, Lydia," he managed, tugging a rare cigarette from his inside pocket and lighting it. "You were supposed to take the lead back there… take us to the animals, and you didn't. That's par. You couldn't care less about the dead sheep and dogs… and that's par. You know I have to come at something like this, it's my job, and you planned to use me… that's par. So… here we are… a pair of people, boy-girl, surrounded with the perfect environment…"
"And that's par," she said, raising up over him and looking down into his face. "Now, that you've analyzed it all, Doctor Blakely, may I kiss you?"
"I-I love her!" Mark blurted. "When I left here, I had no idea it was going to happen, but it did! I love her!"
"You belonged to me when you left!" Lydia hissed down into his face. "Four years we loved, played, fucked! I sucked your cock dry a hundred times! Now, you walk away from me like this?"
"None of that matters!" he managed, realizing the ridiculousness of his statement. "I mean… Christ, I love her, Lydia!"
"And me… what am I? Some sort of forgotten whore?"
"D-Damnit… let's face the truth for once!" Mark gasped, struggling to sit upright. "You wanted someone to play with and you had him! No marriage, Lydia… face it, I was beneath your station! Wasn't I? And the guy whose cock you were sucking wanted just a little bit more… like a wife… and maybe, even kids of his own! So… that's what's happened, eh? That's what's happened!"
"You're a bastard, Mark Blakely… but I love you!" she hotly whispered into his face. "I've always loved you!"
"Your father wouldn't let you love me… even when I wanted it that way!" Mark returned, lying back once more and dragging at his cigarette. "And he knew more than both of us… because we never could've made it, Lyd… noway… noway!"
"Oh… oh, damn you!" she hissed, rolling toward him and smoothing her hand upward along his inner thigh. "You say these things to me when I want to make love to you… I want your cock… I want you the way it used to be…!"
"It can't be that way, Lyd," he said, grasping her arm trying to entwine around his neck. "Don't you understand? I love her… my Jeannie… I love her!"
She sat upright with an abruptness that startled him. The depth of her greenish eyes in rage spat obsessive fire down at him. "You're mine, you bastard! I don't give a damn about your Jeannie…!" she swore, and he felt her hand knowingly caressing at the front of his pants!
Mark made an effort toward stopping her, but she counteracted that by dropping down onto him, snatching the cigarette from his lips and flattening the firm mounds of her firm, braless breasts against his chest, her hot, moistened lips finding his in an opened-mouth kiss. Her tiny, familiar tongue heatedly wormed its way between his lips while her hand continued to eagerly stroke the length of his uncontrollably hardening cock between them. He could have forced her off him, both of them knew that… could have fought it right then and there, but he didn't! Instead, he realized that he was suddenly returning her passionate kiss thrusting his tongue into her sweet-tasting mouth in blind, rapidly building lust!
His brain struggled, but he knew it was useless… he'd been there before! She was unzipping the fly of his pants, and then he felt her smooth, claiming hand easing inside, beyond the cotton of his shorts, its knowing fingers warmly encircling the now blood-engorged thickness of his long, swollen cock! He grunted into her mouth at the erotic caress, letting his arms move around her, his hands smoothing over the small of her back and downward beyond her slender waist to the rising swell of her skirt-covered buttocks.
She broke their kiss, staring almost triumphantly down into his face, the lustful desire in her burning, green eyes causing them to glow like polished ovals of jade. "You may love your Jeannie… but you need me, Darling!" she hissed in a throaty whisper. "You'll always want Lydia, because she knows how to make love to you… knows what you want and need… knows how much you love to have your cock licked and sucked by a warm wet mouth!"
"D-Damn you, Lyd… you sexy bitch!" he choked, working her loose, riding skirt up to find her lush, rounded buttocks unsurprisingly naked beneath, their soft, yielding resilience warm and smooth to his clutching hands. "It isn't going to gain you a lousy point, you hear…?"
She tittered, her hot breath brushing his face. "We'll see, baby," she hissed as she began to slither downward over him, her full, satiny buttocks slipping away from his kneading grasp.
Mark watched with a blunted sense of crippled resistance as she moved backwards onto her knees, wedging them between his legs, her small hand still clinging to the rigid length of his hardened penis inside his pants. Christ, he never should have come there and he'd known it all along! He lifted his head when he felt her let go of his cock and quickly begin to unbuckle his belt. She knew her way, every inch of it… and him, he realized, as she tugged his trousers and shorts down over his hips, exposing his genitals completely to her. His towering cock cleaved skyward in its long, thick, rigid state that she had lewdly incited to hardness with calculated intentions.
"Ah, Darling… it hasn't changed a bit in the last ten weeks!" she luridly whispered her passion-glazed eyes fixed greedily as once more she wrapped her small, slender fingers around its pulsating hardness. "Just the way Lydia left it. You're new little bride, Jeannie, hasn't hurt it a bit… or doesn't she use it that often, lover?"
"D-Damnit!" Mark gasped. "Leave her out of this, Lyd! I-I ought to have my… my head examined… letting this happen!" He intended to say more, but couldn't get it out as she tauntingly smiled up at him and began to lustfully stroke his now rock-hard cock, sliding the heavy foreskin up and down, intermittently revealing the purplishly swollen tip.
"Which head Mark Darling?" Lydia obscenely questioned. "If you mean this one… I was just about to examine it for you…!"
With that, she lowered her face above his upthrusting length of hardened penial-flesh, one hand continuing to teasingly stroke it while with the other, she drew her nails beneath the vulnerably sensitive sac of his balls. Mark grunted aloud to the teasing stimulation, then saw her tiny, pink tongue dart out to lick hotly at the drop of seminal fluid seeping from the little slit at the tip of the sleekly pulsing head.
"Mmmm… tastes as good as ever, too, Darling!" she wantonly whispered, beginning to lick it all over with smooth, sweeping tongue strokes.
"L-listen to me, Lydia… I swear, it isn't going to work!" he huskily warned. "You've tricked me for the last time! Don't you understand? I love her… I love Jeannie…!"
"Mmmm… of course, I understand, baby… you're the one who doesn't!" she confidently tossed at him. "But you will, Darling, once I remind you…!"
Mark sucked in his breath with the obscene sensations of pleasure her wet, eager tongue sent racing through him. All else in the world was suddenly obliterated from his lust-infused brain but the lustfully erotic act she was performing on him. Chills rippled up his spine, raising a groan from deep in his throat. She brought her moistened, soft lips down all of the way then, enclosing the entire sensitive head of his cock in a wet, heated pressure, their tensiled ripeness clasping like an elastic band just below the rim to trap it hungrily inside the hot, liquid cavern of her mouth.
"Christ!" he choked, raising his head once more to stare down at her tightly locked lips. It was no use… no use! The sight of his hardness disappearing up into her widely ovalled mouth increased the sensation, as always; a thousand times. Damn, yes… yes, she knew his wants and needs only too well! If only Jean would… could learn to suck him like this… or even suck him at all…! Now, she was skillfully massaging the soft, sperm weighted resilience of his balls with one hand, and stroking the thick base of his cock between thumb and forefinger of the other, while she began to suck rhythmically up and down. He could feel the velvety smoothness of her wetly heated tongue twirling maddeningly around it at the peak of the withdrawal, the fiery tip flicking provocatively across the split at its end. Uncontrollably, he flexed his buttocks, his eyes fixed on the lustful sight of her bobbing head below, his cock beginning to achingly throb to the depths of his groin.
Christ, there was no fighting a sensual young bitch like this… especially when she had your cock-head in her mouth… and more especially when she knew every vein and wrinkle in it…
Mark knew that she sensed his reactions by the way she began to suck with mounting intensity, the tips of her even, white teeth scraping gently into the resisting hardness of his cock. He could see their little white trails where they'd scraped the blood from beneath the surface of the skin. Then, she was slipping her hands beneath his buttocks to cup them in her small, warm palms trying to lift his loins up tighter to her slaving face! Her hot, liquid tongue rotated with growing fervor around the expanding cockhead and Mark realized that he was quickly heading toward the eruption point as she suddenly took almost all of it up into her hungrily working throat. Christ, he'd always been amazed that she didn't choke on it, but she never had… and on and on she sucked!
Pleasureful waves of rising heat were ungovernably building in the intricate depths of his sperm-bloated balls. Lustfully, he watched her beautiful young face toiling with a hungry, omniverous desire about his wildly fired loins. He could see tiny rivulets of perspiration running in thin droplets from beneath her short, auburn hair and down her cheeks as she relentlessly sucked and strained to draw out the seething cum churning hotly below in his balls. The muscles in his stomach tightened until he felt they might snap from the pressure; still, he arched his back even further, shoving his aching cock deeper into the heated wetness of her voraciously sucking mouth. His breathing hissed from his lungs as he watched the thin, pink ridges of inner-flesh sensually pulling out from her lush lips which were clinging tightly to his inflamed rod of hardness.
Mark grunted and strained in a maddening buildup of mounting lust, vaguely reasoning from a score of similar episodes passed, that for her, this was but the beginning, that she already envisioned the rest of the day to be spent accordingly, until her wildly insatiable passions were gluttonously fed… but it wasn't going to be that way… and maybe that would somehow bring an end to all of it…!
His own unrestrainable gasp wiped away the brief illusion of thought. Christ, the moment was there. A low, guttural sound arose from somewhere deep in his chest as he felt the scalding, sticky sperm beginning its furious charge from the sanctuary of his balls and begin squirting in fiery streams into her voraciously sucking mouth and throat! He watched her cheeks expanding and hollowing eagerly to his pumping cock, her adam's apple visually reacting in her lewd swallowing of the warm, flooding gushes. Ardently, she continued to suck his white-hot sperm into the caressing, wet softness of her mouth, while his hands clutched at her head, holding her fast against the throbbing heat of his cum-spitting loins, thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into the depths of her greedily milking throat. Once, she coughed, but quickly regained control, and he shot the last dwindling spurt from the tip of his rapidly deflating penis before collapsing back to earth. Reluctant to stop, she continued to nibble and suck, as if trying to draw the last tiny drop from the length of jerking male cock flesh that had gone limp in her mouth… and that's when he gently pushed her away.
"Now, tell me that isn't worth some points, Darling…" Lydia began, starting to move up toward his face. She stopped right there, her green eyes widening in surprise when he elusively moved away and got to his feet, quickly zipping up his pants and buckling his belt. "Wh-What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I told you, Lyd… it's not going to work," Mark said, looking down at where she sat staring up at him in growing anger, the telltale trails of milky white sperm still coating her lips and chin. "It's no good… all over between us…"
"No good! All over…! Why… why, you sonofabitch! After you lay there and let me suck your cock till you came in my mouth you can say a thing like that to me… to me?" she spat in mounting viciousness, gaping up at him as if she refused to believe his statement. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Mark had no intentions of arguing with her. He felt low enough already at what had happened between them, but Christ knows, he hadn't wanted it to. He'd tried to avoid it… hadn't he?
"Wait a minute, damn you?" Lydia shrieked after him as he walked to the sorrel. "Goddamn you, Mark Blakely! You can't do this to me! What sort of man are you anyway? I need you… right now… now! Come back here and fuck me…!"
Mark swung into the saddle before turning to see her brushing the back of her hand across her lips and chin, standing spread-legged with her eyes blazing in unfulfilled rage. "I'm sorry, Lydia, but it's just as I said. I love my wife! It's all over between us… and I wish I didn't have to prove it to you this way. I can only suggest you find another stud to play with…!"
She was wildly running toward him as he heeled the sorrel's flanks and the big animal raced off with a sudden spurt, galloping downhill with sure-footed agility.
"You… you sonofabitch!" he heard her scream. "Goddamn you Mark Blakely… I'll have your nuts for this! I swear I will! I'll have your nuts…!" she screamed after him until the sorrel's pounding hooves drowned her voice. But he didn't know that he could blame her. It was a miserable thing he'd done… yet, how else did you handle a possessive vixen like Lydia Newell, except in the only vein she understood… sex! And how the hell was he going to tell Jeannie… because he knew he had to… otherwise, whatever it was they had between them would be worthless! Yes, he had to tell her… but how, he sickeningly thought, the faint, screeching voice of the young woman still threateningly audible even with the wind rushing past his ears…!