Mark crossed the plush carpet of the hotel's lobby, feeling of two minds at a time. Part of him was elated at being here, at this convention, here with the company and support of DesirЋe's parents. This was the first step on the way to the State Senate, and from there, with luck, his path would lead to the US Senate. From there, it was anybody's guess how high he could go. At his side walked Thurston Mitchell, DesirЋe's straight-laced father, now nearly fifty, and his lovely fortyish wife, Margaret. The Mitchell's had come as friends of influence to lend support to Mark in his dealings with the party bosses. It was all based on nepotism and cronyism, and Mark didn't really like that aspect of it, but having Thurston with him was almost sure to give him that extra edge. It was almost certain that his party's nominee would be elected, for the other party was on the wane now, having displeased the voters in many ways. That meant Mark was on his way to the state capital, and the thought excited him. At thirty, he was old enough to move in those circles, and the Mitchells didn't seem to care that he was over ten years older than their beloved daughter. They trusted him, and that's what was important.
Excited and pleased with his situation, Mark was still unhappy to be separated from DesirЋe, who had stayed behind in Pickford's Meadows. Last night, they had been together, at Mark's apartment, and had made love again. DesirЋe had protested at first, saying it was still wrong, and dangerous, that she was afraid of pregnancy, afraid of many things. But they had got carried away, again, and they had ridden the rollercoaster of passion and ecstasy. At least, Mark had. DesirЋe's worries had retarded her climax and Mark's state of mind had hastened his and he had come and filled her belly with his seed, he thought before she had attained her peak. So they had parted melancholy this morning, and it pained him to leave her with that juvenile tear in her eye.
The small group paused in the lobby. "Mark, I think we could all do with a shower and freshening up before the banquet tonight. Margaret?"
Mark nodded. "Shall we say at nine, then, Thurston?"
"Nine it is," Mitchell answered, offering his arm to his lovely wife and strolling away with her.
Mark turned in the opposite direction, intending to get a drink in the bar before going up to his room, and that was when he saw Priscilla. She was standing by the elevator, her hand on her hip and that brazen expression on her face. She smiled, knowingly. She was beautiful in an irresistible way, and exuded sex, the way he always thought of her.
"How's the future state senator?" Priscilla asked in a velvet voice. "Got any time for a humble voter."
"Never mind that," he said, suspicious of her presence. "What are you doing here, Priscilla?"
"Just wanted to talk to you, since we're both here at the same convention."
"I only have a few minutes, Priscilla."
"I know," said the auburn-haired girl in the smart suit, standing tall and lovely by the elevator's polished door. "Word carries fast back in Pickford's, Councilor. My sources told me that Nancy Pace was deflowered yesterday, and by dear old Liz's pet dog."
Mark couldn't help but glare at her severely attractive young face.
"That's not to be taken lightly, Priscilla," he snapped, glancing toward the bar and simultaneously weighing his proximity to this twenty-six year old girl he'd known too many years. "The town's in an uproar."
"I'd expect that… with Clete Anderson inciting the whole thing, right?"
"Right."
"Well, while that Lobo bastard was cavorting in town his uglies were raising hell with our livestock, darling," she said, her large green eyes engulfing him. "We can stand the herd loss, but they scared one of my favorite horses into a ditch. He broke his leg and we had to put him down. Something has to be done, Mark. That's why I've come up here to talk to these fat politicians."
"We're contemplating that, Priscilla," Mark said, fidgeting. "In the meantime, you can make a government claim for your reasonable losses."
"Oh? Don't be ridiculous, lover. You know me better than that. Besides, I wouldn't know how to begin. My daddy handles all that kind of thing." She smiled in the sexiest way, moving along beside him as he finally decided to go up to his room and forget the drink, and her hip bumped against his as she followed him in the elevator, 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 idea in his head for years, before he'd come to realize that he was below her station. He said: "Is Bruce still in England?"
"The last I heard, but he was considering a trip to Spain. Seems if he's met a senorita of sorts who inspires him, and you know how Daddy is."
"Not really… but I tried, you'll have to admit that," Mark countered with a smile.
"Oh, come on, baby," Priscilla laughed. "You were too close to the family not to read every one of us."
"Maybe you're right, Priss," he answered, his tired mind rehashing it all. "Maybe you are right! All the way down to the marrow, but that's all past now, water under the bridge?"
"What did you mean by that… all of the bullshit, I mean! What?" she vulgarly snapped at him. "Right down to the marrow. What's that supposed to mean?"
Mark smiled smugly. "Whatever you want it to mean, I guess, Priscilla." The door of the elevator opened and Mark moved down toward his room, noting with irritation that the young woman was still beside him. His key came out, opened the door, and he went in. Without a second's hesitation, Priscilla pushed her way into the room.
Mark turned. "What's going on now, Priscilla?"
"Sort of like old times isn't it, darling?" she huskily whispered, moving toward him so that their bodies touched.
"Sort of, but not quite, Priscilla," he managed, tugging a rare cigarette from his inside pocket and lighting it. "I'm here for a political convention and this is my room. Here we are, a pair of people, boy-girl, in the perfect environment, hotel with satin sheets."
"Interesting, isn't it?" she said, raising up over him and looking down into his face. "Now, that you've analyzed it all, Doctor Denning, may I kiss you?"
"I love her!" Mark blurted. "When I left you, I had no idea it was going to happen, but it did! I love her!"
"You belonged to me before she came to Pickford's!" Priscilla hissed up into his face. "Four years we loved, played, fucked! I sucked your cock dry a hundred times! Then you walked away from me like that?"
"None of it matters!" he managed, realizing the ridiculousness of his statement. "I mean, Christ, I love her, Priscilla!"
"And me, what am I? Some sort of forgotten whore?"
"Damn it, let's face the truth for once!" Mark gasped, struggling against her as she nudged him toward the bed. "You wanted someone to play with and you had him! No marriage, Priscilla… 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, right? That's what's going to happen!"
"You're a bastard, Mark Denning, 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, Priss, no way. No way!"
"Oh! Oh, damn you!" she hissed, pushing him back so that he fell on the bed, 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, Priss," he said, grasping her arm trying to entwine around his neck. "Don't you understand? I love her… my DesirЋe… 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 DesirЋe…!" 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 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. He 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 Dezzy… but you need me, darling!" she hissed in a throaty whisper. "You'll always want Priscilla, 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!"
"Damn you, Priss… 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 let her 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 months!" 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 Priscilla left it. Your new little lover, Dezzy, hasn't hurt it a bit… or doesn't she use it that often, lover?"
"Damn it!" Mark gasped. "Leave her out of this, Priss! I ought to have 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 purplish swollen tip.
"Which head Mark darling?" Priscilla obscenely questioned. "If you mean this one… I was just about to examine it for you…!"
With that, she lowered her face above his up-thrust length of hardened penile 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.
"Listen to me, Priscilla. I swear, it isn't going to work!" he warned huskily. "You've tricked me for the last time! Don't you understand? I love her. I love DesirЋe!"
"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 how it feels!"
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 succulent 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 wide open mouth increased the sensation, as always; a thousand times. Damn, yes, yes! She knew his wants and needs only too well! If only DesirЋe would, could learn to suck him like this someday, 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 throb achingly 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, omnivorous 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 unrestrained 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." Priscilla 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. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I told you, Priss, 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, it's 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 intention 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!" Priscilla shrieked after him as he walked to the door. "Goddamn you, Mark Denning! 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 went to the door 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, Priscilla, but it's just as I said. I love my fiancee! It's all over between you and me, 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." He opened the door. "I'm going back downstairs for a drink. Don't be here when I get back."
"You… you sonofabitch!" he heard her scream. "Goddamn you Mark Denning… I'll have your nuts for this! I swear I will! I'll have your nuts!" she screamed after until the shutting door cut her off. She was vicious, but he didn't know that he could blame her. It was a miserable thing he'd done, but how else did you handle a selfish vixen like Priscilla Devereaux, except in the only vein she understood – sex? And how the hell was he going to tell Dezzy, 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 didn't know, he thought, sick at heart, the faint, screeching voice of the young woman still threateningly audible through the heavy wood of the door.