"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."
"Doesn't everybody?"
"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."
"Rumors abound."
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…