Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book four

So, in spite of his pain, that kept him from moving any faster than a snail, Clete was reasonably content. He had a nest egg, a great home to move into, respect and a job in the community, a wife soon-to-be, and offspring on the way. There was no reason why he should allow his obsession with DesirЋe to upset that any longer. He would simply have to learn to live without her.

He hoped it was a son. It had to be a son! Sure, he would look a little pale, like his white mother, but he would mainly look like his father, Clete had decided. But it was something that would tie him to the respectability of the old Pace family, the longest-resident members of Pickford's Meadows, since that great mansion had been built in the heyday of the region.

Clete sighed, smiled, and relaxed. His struggle, it seemed, was over.

When the door slowly opened, he raised his head. Had Nancy forgotten something?

Remembering his resolution made just a few minutes before, Clete tried not to smile when he saw DesirЋe enter, wearing a light, powder blue summer dress. She was radiant, clean and scrubbed to a radiant glow, with no sign of the sperm-smeared and blood spattered girl he had last seen as they moved him into the ambulance. Her glowing blue eyes were sparkling and clear, though downcast shyly as she crossed from the door to the bed. He watched her attentively as she stopped there and laid a hand on the mattress beside his leg.

"I…" she started, then swallowed and started again, her eyes looking at that hand. "I had to see you, Sheriff Anderson. Clete. I had to come and thank you and see how you were doing."

He smiled. "Well, here I am." His uninjured free arm gestured downward. "All that's left."

He saw a tear streak her cheek. "You saved my life, Clete. If it hadn't been for you, I would never have come back from that forest. Those men…"

"You told me about them, remember?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"You did what you had to do. How's Mark?"

She smiled slowly. "Just fine. Sore feet, but just fine. We're going to get started on the family now soon. You know…"

"I know what you mean," he whispered conspiratorially. "Keep it under your hat, but I think Nancy's pregnant. She thinks she is."

"Congratulations," she said, inadvertently putting her hand on his leg. "I wish you all the best." Then she noticed her hand, and withdrew it. "Excuse me."

He caught her hand as she moved it. "No, it's okay." He felt the familiar, uncontrollable churning that DesirЋe always evoked in him, and his stirring cock made a tent at the junction of his legs. DesirЋe saw it, remembered what it had done to her, and couldn't tear her gaze away. Clete pulled her hand gently and placed it over his huge cock, and, wonder of wonders, her fingers closed around it, though unable to completely encircle it.

Her hand moved slowly, stroking it up and down while a wet spot began to form on the sheet where it peaked. Glancing up into his eyes, she moved her hand under the cover and grasped the great shaft, feeling the throbbing veins, the bristly hair on the scrotum holding the big, swollen balls. Her hands moved upward, felt the exposed, wide-flanged corona, slippery with his pre-seminal fluid, and she used her thumb to smear it over the tip, raising a groan from his open lips. His big, black hand reached out, running up inside her thighs to the soft, damp center strip of her silk panties, pressed the thin material into her vulval slit to find the nub of her clitoris.

"Oh," she whispered, almost inaudibly, pressing her other hand to her full, swelling breasts, feeling the heat rise to her loins and bosom. Her knees began to tremble, and she squatted slightly to open her thighs while his finger slipped inside to the dripping split of her vagina, slipped inside the honeyed hole of her sex.

DesirЋe, losing control in a way she had not expected she would, and taking initiative for the first time in her life, lifted the sheet, looking down at the frightening black length of his two-and-a-half-inch thick cock. Making low, purring sounds in her throat, she bent her head forward and, holding the huge shaft in both hands, opened her mouth and slid her shining wet, red lips over the head of his cock.

"Dez!" he groaned, feeling her suck the big bulge into her mouth to twirl her tongue all around the throbbing, helmet-shaped glans, trying to work the tip into the hole in the end. Clete arched his back, pushing two fingers into her juicy pussy, feeling her muscles tighten and suck the digits up into her.

What she was doing with her mouth turned out to be inadequate, for his cockhead was much too big for her mouth and the cock itself too thick to even begin to go into her throat, as she had read about in the sex manual. She tried to give him as much pleasure as she could, but she had to stop when her breath ran out. She straightened up, pushing her pussy against his working hand, her eyes glassy, and a shy smile on her face.

"I can never see you again," she said softly. "Not like this. I'm Mrs. Denning, and Mr. Denning has a political career. Mrs. Denning loves Mr. Denning and wants to be his wife forever." She looked at him directly with those wide, soft eyes, hope in them that he would understand. A tiny drop of his fluid glistened on her lower lip, and her tongue lapped it away. She smiled quietly, and waited.

Clete spoke in a near whisper. "Never again, DesirЋe."

She nodded and he felt her pussy suddenly grow wetter. Her shaking hands moved up under her dress and she slid her damp panties over the ripe hump of her buttocks and he drew them down her thighs. She stepped out of them and while his hand played in the crease of her vulva and stroked her burning clit, her hands moved to her neck and unbuttoned the front of her dress, down to her navel. The clasp of her bra was between the cups and they parted under her fingers, letting her sculpted breasts spring out, the wondrous, pink nipples bobbing with her breathing that was coming throaty and faster. Leaning over him, she let him mouth her tautly hanging tits, closing her eyes as the sensations shot through her while his fingers dipped into her sweet cunt. Her hand moved inexpertly up and down his penis, a trail of goo dripping onto her white hand.

"I can't move," he groaned, and she moved her face to his, pressing her mouth to his thick lips, and enjoying the way his tongue worked against her cheeks and halfway down her throat. She felt possessed by this powerful man, though on his back and unable to move, and felt the heat grow in her. She hoped that Mark would never find out, that if he did he would understand, but more than anything that, when he next held her in his arms, he would possess her totally and completely, the way she felt it happening now.

Clete had three fingers stretching her tight pussy, which would need a lot of work before it was wide enough for any large cock to enter comfortably, with the fourth finger deep in her asshole. She was flexing her thighs, rising up and down, frigging herself on his hand, his palm filling with her warm lubricant. But it was not enough.

DesirЋe drew back and very carefully put her left knee up on the bed, then lifted the right and swung it over him, straddling his hips and carefully placing it between his side and his immobile left hand.

"Careful, baby," Clete said softly.

DesirЋe hiked up the dress around her waist, smiled at him, reached down, and fitted the tip of his enormous black cock into the tiny loop of her vaginal opening. She closed her eyes and with her lower lip caught between her teeth, bore down with her hips, rotating her pussy in tiny circles, working the inhumanly sized penis into her hot sheath, moving up and down until it was gradually buried in her belly to the hilt.

She groaned with him as she rose and fell over his pulsing prick. "Oh, God, Clete, it's so big," she whispered. How did Nancy take this thing night after night? The blonde felt the soft, mushrooming head pressing her cervix high up into her belly. She pumped slowly and carefully until she had coated the cock liberally with her secretions, until they could both hear the wetness of the actions. Reaching behind her, she massaged his bristly scrotum and the swollen testicles inside, as large as ripe plums.