Jon Reskind - Caesar_s revenge book II

It mattered little to the sleek and powerful german shepherd dog that the small town's streets had been brightened with additional lamp, lantern, even fired torch-light. He merely clung more stealthily to the inevitable shadows of the warm summer night, avoiding with ease the clumsy patroling male-humans who sought to destroy him. A balanced sense of avenged pride burned warmly in his deep muscular chest; he had punished them for the brutal, torture-death of his mate, satisfying the ancient law cryptically imbedded in his uncanny animal-brain lex talionis the law of retaliation. Yet, in so doing, he had rekindled the banked embers of another smoldering force from ages passed, a seething aberrant urge that had brought him down from the hills again this night.

Caesar stole his way in a surreptitious silence equal to the very shadows enshrouding him, knowing exactly his destination, the craving dictate in his feral loins magnetically guiding him. Cautiously, he moved his great head in searching sweeps, aware through instinct that the gold medallion hanging from his throat on its glittering chain could attract attention in the light of the moon. Ahead, he saw the shelter where she would be lying on the human sleeping place, the golden female-human he had chosen to replace the mate they had cruelly killed.

A feverish heat spread through his huge, invincible body at the glow coming from the opened window. She was waiting for him!

The surge of wild mating instinct motivating the massive dog caused his long tongue to lick out ravenously at his lips, while his mighty animal-loins convulsively reacted in pulsating throbs. Deliberately, but with vigilance, the illusive, canine beast crept toward the open window, a sudden piercing howl back in the hills advising him that his pack was racing down toward the valley in its quest for food

The willowy, ivory-skinned girl who tossed herself nakedly onto Jean Blakely's bed, sensed a certain feeling of imposition at her friend's relinquishing their bedroom to them. Mark, too, had insisted and of course, her own numb old Steve had merely said "thanks". The dodo all he was concerned with was getting a story for that lousy magazine he slaved for, not giving the slightest thought to Jean and Mark's inconvenience. Then off he goes, chasing down the utterly ridiculous tale that had brought them there. Not that she hadn't expected to be a writer's widow throughout most of their stay in Crescent Valley, but she'd had hopes that this, their first night there, would be spent together especially following her monthly five-day abstinence because of her period.

God, she was always a lusty little hot-box right after, wasn't she? Carol Foster racily thought to herself, wriggling the naked roundness of her full white buttocks in a little sensuous undulation against the smooth satin give of the sheeted mattess. A tiny shiver of erotic delight tingled along her spine. Reflexively, she brushed her long slender fingers with a light touch over the diffused, resilient flesh of her full, white breasts, absently teasing at their tiny, ruby-like nipples until they were incited buds of sensitive hardness. He could have at least waited until morning; she'd certainly dropped enough hints all evening long. She thought this as she lay there uneasily in her aroused nakedness, the soft glow from the bedside lamp playing over the smooth curves and hollows of her young, supple body, heatedly adding to her sensual appetite.

Of course, the drinks hadn't done anything to cool her down either, especially the last two she'd had with Jean after the boys had left on their crazy, wild dog-pack-hunt. But she'd needed them; she'd been so damned mad when Steve had told her he probably wouldn't be home until morning. Such absolute nonsense the whole ludicrous yarn a wild dog raping a girl! It surprised her that an intelligent man like Mark Blakely could take any stock in such an absurd story and he'd looked so damned grave, almost avoiding Steve's questions. Even Jean, after they'd left, had practically refused to discuss it, continuously changing the subject. Frankly, she'd been just as satisfied, Carol remembered, half smiling to herself, any reference to sex doing nothing but turning her on that much more.

At least, it was wonderful being together with Jean again and Mark was just as handsome and desirable as ever, though she doubted if her husband or Jean would appreciate her secret sexual fantasies about the young, virile deputy sheriff. Anyway, it was all an illusory affair, and quite one-sided, she felt certain, though he'd done marvelous things for her in her dreams wildly passionate acts that could only take place in her sensuously unbridled mind. Like now, at that very moment, as she continued to stroke her soft hands down over the smooth white flesh of her voluptuous young nakedness, and imagined conception of what his penis, in an excited desire-hardened state, would look like filling her fevered mind. It would be longer and thicker than Steve's, Mark was that much bigger a man, and it would be solidly hard hot and throbbing in her hand as she slowly pulled back its foreskin to reveal the moistened, purplish head with its tiny slitted eye seeping out those first delicious drops of his heated male-semen!

God! The thought alone was enough to drive her wild, the naked, short-haired brunette squirminkly dreamed, letting her caressing hands brush over the churning little bowl of her belly in their ever descending course toward the sensually dampened, erogenous little slit down between her hot full thighs. She felt the soft down of her pubic curls with the tips of her sensitive fingers, grazing teasingly through their silken texture, the realization flitting through her fired mind that she wouldn't be thinking this way had her husband, Steve, stayed with her. Damn him, she was just too good to him was all sucking him off every night during her period no wonder he'd put that stupid story ahead of her inevitable seizure of "hotpussy"!

She had, in fact, spoiled him during their two-years of marriage with the incessant hunger of her mouth, but she couldn't help it. Not that she didn't love to get fucked; she'd give anything for the hot, thick length of his hard cock buried to the hilt in her burning little pussy lips at that very moment but there was something more passionately intimate in the tongue-licking and mouthing of his pulsating, rock-hardness that lustfully intoxicated her. To get down between his legs and caress his cum-bloated balls in her warm hands to lick away that first pungent drop of his sweet-tasting cum with the tip of her tongue to moisten her lips and slip them down over its hot, blood-swollen head, gradually sucking the thick length of it into her saliva-slickened mouth and throat until her nose brushed his pelvic hair! And then, that insane moment of wanton ecstasy when he pumped his scalding sperm deep up into her mouth, half choking her as it flooded like liquid fire down her hungrily swallowing throat to boil passionately down in her belly below!

God, I'm hot! Carol mentally gasped, aware that her fingers had gently spread open the flushed lips of her desire-filled cunt, two of them slithering wetly into the seething, moist crevice between. Hedonistically, they stroked through the smooth fluid flesh, one skillfully caressing the tiny bud of her erect clitoris, transmitting frenzied little shocks of intensive sensation to her passion-whetted brain. Oooohhh if only I had Jean's husband, Mark's cock in my mouth right now! God, I'd suck his balls inside out! she lewdly visualized, spreading and lifting her long, shapely white legs and drawing them back up her naked young body until her knees kissed the hardened, tingling nipples of her swollen breasts. Then, as she plunged two slender fingers into the nibbling, viscid mouth of her tighly absorbing cuntal channel, she raised her head to look down between her nakedly throbbing breasts and observed through darkly glazed eyes the obscenely erotic sight she presented to herself