Priscilla watched Lightning paw the ground and give a tug at the reins, which she had tied to a branch, while she carried on with her target practice. She didn't know why she was so obsessed with practicing hitting little beer cans when she would only need to hit a warm body from a few feet away. Yes, five or six shots into DesirЋe's vitals at point blank would put her well and painfully out of the picture, so why was she going through five boxes of fifty practicing? She supposed it calmed her, but the noise was doing nothing for Lightning, who was excitable at best.
The girl kicked the empty boxes aside and holstered her weapon. She already knew where she was going to do it and how, and she had the grave already dug, ironically on the southeast corner of the Mitchell property. If they ever found the body, it would not be on Devereaux land.
She had done some investigating about guns and ballistics. She knew that to keep her gun from being linked to the killing, she had only to remove the barrel, clamp it in a vise and twist it off with a crowbar or something, just a very small thing to have to bury deep somewhere in the great outdoors. Of course, a shotgun was untraceable and would make a real nice mess, but it was much too large to conceal, if anyone should see her before the act that would expunge DesirЋe from the landscape of Priscilla's future with Mark Denning.
She was set to start renewing her relationship with Mark, when he returned from the capital, so that when his wife disappeared, she could be the first to console him. He was a real catch now, with his political star rising through his close association with the super-capitalist Sid Buchanan, and her father Big Jim Devereaux could never call him a no-account small-timer now.
Mark Denning, US Senator! That was in the offing, she had read, and from there, could it be the White House? He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, a Clark Gable without the false teeth, a John Kennedy with infinitely more principle and without the uncontrollable lechery. But of course, when Mark belonged to her again, she would control his lechery and keep it all for herself, with the blonde bitch DesirЋe in the ground in some unknown spot out in the hills, while her dashing husband thought she had run off with another man. By the time everyone had begun to see through that falsehood, the trail would have gone long cold and they would not dig up her bones until a hundred years from now when Priscilla's and Mark's own great-grandchildren decided to build a shopping center there.
Priscilla reloaded, aimed, and sent a tin can flying.
Nigel Harmsworth, Buchanan's English butler, stood by the bedroom door with the portable cordless phone and listened to the commotion coming from inside. Things were getting rather wild in there, by the sound of it, and he hated to disturb his employer, but Harry Wickes had stressed the urgency of the message, demanding to talk to Buchanan without fail.
But peeking through the crack in the door and watching the action on the bed, he wondered if he dared interrupt. The sight was erotic in the extreme as Mr. Buchanan lay there, his flabby body quivering while his massive penis pointed straight up from his belly, disappearing and reappearing into the pink-lipped vagina of the girl humping up and down over him. Nigel strained his eyes to see, for while he was very proper to all outward appearances, while no one was watching, he was just as interested in sex as the next man, and he enjoyed the occasional session of voyeurism. The girl's pink, tender, inner pussy-flesh clung to the withdrawing shaft, vanishing back inside as her plump, creamy, round buttocks descended. Each time the lovely cheeks rose, they parted and revealed the delicious, tight dimple of her anus and its surrounding, pale halo. From this angle, he could also see a bit of the taut mounds of her breasts as they swung over the man's face while he licked at the pink nipples.
The girl's husband, Nigel knew, was this afternoon locked in an important, protracted meeting with Khalid al-Mazkum, and if he knew his employer, the next thing on the agenda would be another long meeting with Buchanan while the Arab took his place with the girl.
But Harry Wickes had been very insistent, and Nigel was afraid not to at least give his employer a chance to talk to the stock broker. He rapped gently at the door, and through the small gap saw the lovely blonde girl's hips freeze in position on the downstroke.
"Yeah," came Buchanan's breathless reply.
"It's your stock broker, Harry Wickes, sir," Nigel called in his precise British diction. "He says it's very important."
DesirЋe looked at Buchanan, and he looked back at her. He saw the look of alarm on her face when he called back to Nigel, "All right, come on in."
She made a move to jump off him and hide beneath the sheets, but Sid reached up and gripped her hips, pinning her to him with his throbbing cock, now near to coming, thrust full-length in her belly.
Trying not to look at the lovely, lewdly-exposed and quivering young woman, Nigel walked over to the side of the bed and handed Sid the phone, and the prone man looked up and mouthed the words, "Go, baby, go," to DesirЋe, using one of his hands to guide her back into her up and down fucking motions. After a short hesitation, she began moving again, making embarrassing wet sounds that Nigel could hear as her sweet vagina glided back and forth over the big man's cock. She was terribly embarrassed, but the fires of arousal burned in her belly and the butler's untimely interruption had not quenched them. Now, as Sid urged her to move again, his massive, joy-giving presence inside her made her gasp with a rekindled passion.
Sheepishly, she glanced up at the butler, who was looking down his nose at her, saw his gaze switch briefly to the point behind and beneath her where Sid's cock was entering her. Her hands on his broad chest, she tried to listen as Buchanan put the phone to his ear.
"This isn't the best time, Harry," Sid growled, and then, "Oh, Dez, that's it," as her hot, squeezing pussy clamped wetly down on his cock.
DesirЋe herself, besides being utterly mortified at being watched by the butler bouncing up and down on Buchanan's deeply-piercing penis, was shamed that he was also carrying on a conversation with the stock broker while her body worked against her mind to find the orgasm she was trying to achieve.
Sid had called her in this morning after involving Mark in what was supposed to be an important meeting with the detestable Arab. He had not listened to her feeble protests as he pulled her to the bed and began touching her in those places Mark had not touched her for weeks, for last night he had come to bed very late and quite drunk and had fallen immediately asleep. DesirЋe, for the first time in a long time, felt no resentment, for she was completely satisfied sexually and on top of that she felt utterly contaminated and untouchable.
She found him ugly and disgusting, but he could somehow make her soul burn with need, which his huge penis did a good job of satisfying. What had once been a difficult stretch was now a cunt-searing fullness that caused the juices to stream out of her.
"Yeah, Harry, what is it?"
Harry's voice sounded strained and timid, but he wasted no words. "This email you sent me…"
"Yeah, yeah," Sid said impatiently. "Get to it."
"But, Sid, some of these issues are very dangerous."
Sid thought he meant that he thought there was some insider trading going on, so he said, "Don't worry about that. It's all been planned very carefully and researched. It's got to be done today, or I lose a fortune."
Harry cleared his throat. "But from what I see, you might lose that anyway, looking at these…"
"What's wrong with them?"
"Well, they don't even add up," Harry protested.
DesirЋe, terrified, heard his question and tensed at the beginning of a downstroke, and the tension was transmitted to her vaginal muscles. Sid groaned in extreme pleasure and arched his cock up into her. All at once the most important thing in the world was DesirЋe's sucking pussy hole.
"They add up, I've already checked it. In the end they'll add up. I know what I'm doing. Damn it, Harry, I'm fucking, and you're fucking it up for me. Who works for who, anyway? Don't, ugh, ugh, ugh, question my, ugh, judgment. Just do it. It's got to be done before the closing bell today. Got it?"
"But…"
"Not buts, just do it, Harry, or I'll get myself another broker."
"It's a lot of volume."
"You can handle it, so handle it," he shouted, and handed the phone back to the butler.
"I'm sorry, sir," Nigel said solicitously.
"Never mind, just get out of here. You're making DesirЋe nervous."
The groaning and grunting of the copulating pair filled the room and Nigel crossed to the door and he turned for a last glance at the beautiful blonde's bottom as Buchanan filled her pussy with his sperm. His last look was at the throbbing penis of his employer as streaks of white cream ran down it from her clasping vagina to his big, rolling testicles. Cooing contentedly, DesirЋe collapsed forward over the big man, and Nigel's last sight of the dear girl was the winking, pink eye of her anus staring at him from between her sweaty, splayed buttocks, while her honeyed cunt sucked happily on the softening penis inside it.
Half an hour later, DesirЋe rolled her damp softness off Sid's sweating mass and lay her cheek on his outstretched arm.
Softly and in a small voice, she said, "I hope that never happens again."
"Dumb ass, Harry Wickes," Sid grumbled. "Ruined the best moment of my life, just because he can't take orders the first time." He curled his arm around her and held one of her big tits gently in his hand. "DesirЋe, you've been a real good girl. I won't forget it. Mark will have my total support."
She closed her eyes at the mention of her beloved, though hurting worse for she felt more the whore. "Thank you," she said, almost inaudibly.
An hour later they had showered and dressed, and she was looking forward to being away from Buchanan as he led her along a hall of bedrooms upstairs. He stopped before one door. She looked up.
"Is this…?" she started, wondering if this was where Mark was.
"Be a good girl, Dez," Buchanan said, and opened the door, taking her into a room where Khalid al-Mazkum sat on the bed, grinning.
"I've had a real good day here, Dez," Mark said, sitting down on the bed and kicking off his shoes. He looked at his dear young wife. She looked positively exhausted, even though it was just early in the evening, eight o'clock. Her skin was still glowing with the effects of the long, hot shower she had taken – her third of the day – before climbing into bed, and her hair was still damp from the shampooing. "You must have had a hard day just sitting around with the women. Anyway, we made some good progress on the campaign and funding. For all my misgivings, I think I'm in good company here. Sid's already given me a big campaign fund. Baby, I'm on my way." He reached out, touched her on the cheek, and found her sound asleep. Why she should be so tired, he did not know. He was the one who had to spend six hours with two of the world's most obnoxious people. Perhaps it had been the long drive up yesterday, but whatever it was that had sapped her strength, she looked like she was resting up from it.
Too bad. He had wanted to talk to her intimately, to tell her he wanted to be more loving to her, and that he would forget what had happened, that it didn't matter, wasn't her fault. They were going to be loving newlyweds again, just as they were meant to be. If the image of Lobo mounting DesirЋe's kneeling body ever occurred to him again – But no, he wasn't even going to think about it. Life was going to be good for them after this, very exciting, very fulfilling.