Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book two

DesirЋe Denning stood before the balcony window of the hotel suite and let the warm Caribbean morning breeze wash over her luscious, naked body. It had been the loveliest honeymoon she could imagine, days on the beach, sunning her body to a ripe, gentle tan, evenings of dancing and dining and, yes, champagne, and nights of hot, loving, irresistible sex with her new husband Mark. She had acquired quite a taste for making love, for having a man's, Mark's, penis in her easily-excited needing pussy. Her twenty years of total abstinence and self-denial had built up in her and once unleashed seemed impossible to cool. But now she could indulge without any pangs of guilt, and had, to her heart's content.

Yes, it had been a nearly perfect honeymoon, marred only by her memories, nagging recollections of how she had given herself to Mark beneath the elm tree on her father's ranch, and what had happened after that with three other males that she should never have had to come close to, who had taken advantage of her weakness. And thoughts of that had made her feel unworthy on her wedding day.

Now, it seemed that two weeks of unbounded sexual indulgence with her new husband had purged her mind of that guilt and those cloying, unpleasant memories that threatened her happiness. Now, she knew, everything she said and did had to be impeccable, for Mark was slated to be their new senator to the state legislature. His wife had to be of the highest ethical quality, the highest moral caliber, and except for her brief surrender to desire before the wedding, she knew she would be a shining example of a good politician's wife. Her only real misgivings now were related to Pastor Hemmings, but there was little likelihood that he would ever say anything, for his position was just as precarious as hers. However, she would be expected to be back in church next week, and that would be awkward, at best.

DesirЋe stood in front of the wall mirror. Yes, her body was lush, creamy-skinned, and perfect, her breasts round and firm like grapefruit, her hips and legs slender, her pussy mound covered with silky, honey-blonde fur, her belly smooth and flat. She smiled wryly. Maybe not so flat for much longer. She would be expected to bear a child soon, and her figure, at least for the few months it took to produce the necessary child, would not be so slender and nubile. But what she regretted was that sex would not be quite as easy during that time. She shook her head and frowned. She was getting to be quite a sensual woman, and she wasn't sure that she liked it.

"Hey, there, nymph," came Mark's husky voice from the bed. She knew he appreciated her new sexual personality. "Come here, you shameless strumpet."

She turned. He was holding out his hand to her. DesirЋe smiled shyly, then walked forward and took his hand. She let him pull her down to him, and her whole body tingled at the thought of what was going to happen. It never changed, and she loved it that way. He was going to caress her body, climb on top of her and push his lovely, pleasure-giving penis into her vagina. She began trembling with anticipation. She was so happy to be married at last. They could do this all they wanted without guilt. That was the beauty of marriage.

Mark's mouth covered her pink nipples while his hands kneaded the two round fruit of her beasts. She allowed him to pull her on top of him so that she straddled him and felt his virile, stiffening cock rubbing into the moist split of her labia. Immediately she felt herself getting wet in preparation for what she knew would be a flight through the galaxy. Mark was guiding her hips to position the tip of his cock at the tight entrance to her little-used vagina, little-used, that is, before her wedding day, but for the past two weeks they had been doing it three times a day. DesirЋe had learned to control her responses, had learned to move her young, inexperienced body so that she came to orgasm every time.

She looked deep into her new husband's smoky eyes as she felt his cockhead stretching her vagina and entering the steaming depths of her femaleness. Oh! This is different! she hummed mentally as she felt it lance up inside her to depths never before probed – at least not by Mark. And the thought of other things impinged. She gave a sob, trying to purge herself of the memory, the fear of things coming back to haunt her.

Pleasure sliced through her loins as she found she could regulate the depth of penetration and Mark guided her shapely, smooth-skinned hips up and down. She made a few mistakes, letting his cock slip from her cuntal grip several times before she learned the knack. And then her bottom began gliding up and down faster and faster, more effectively, driving his beautiful prick in and out of her pussy.

Mark looked up at her innocent, almost childish, face, her full red lips parted with passion, her honey-blonde hair swirling about her head and shoulders, her big, pink-nippled tits jiggling with each downward stroke of her hips. She was the picture of aroused young womanhood, brimming with love and devotion, overwhelmed with emotion and physical joy, in the grip of romance. He looked down to the plump, silky-haired mound at the base of her belly, to the warm split where his cock went on disappearing and reappearing with soft, salacious, wet, sucking sounds.

Together they moved in this new position of love, harder, deeper, and faster until their moans and gasps of joy resounded through the room, thunder wracking their bodies as they began to come, as Mark's creamy sperm shot into her greedily accepting cunt. Their coming lasted for what seemed like an hour, and finally Mark lay exhausted as DesirЋe collapsed over him, still straddling him, his penis locked in her flooded vagina, her body covered with the sweat of her passionate efforts.

The honeymoon was ending now, she thought, as her breasts heaved with her impassioned breathing. It had been perfect and would last forever in her heart.

Priscilla Devereaux watched morosely from the cafe across the street as Nancy Pace left the sheriff's office where her dark-skinned fiancee worked. Everyone seemed to be happy but her. Even that no good law officer had a steady girl that she was sure he was fucking. Only she was alone, it seemed, and she didn't like it. Priscilla was very unused to being deprived of anything, and having been spurned by Mark Denning at the conference at the Radisson, the fire of envy and resentment burned strong. It had been almost two months, that time in his hotel room when she had taken his cock in her mouth and given him supreme joy, only to be rejected and turned out of his room and his life, in favor of that nasty little blonde bitch that sang in church and did nothing but make people love her and want her! Silly little twat! Even now she was off on some island in the Caribbean, fucking her, Priscilla's, sweetheart Mark.

Priscilla didn't like the situation, would not countenance it. She wanted her revenge on DesirЋe and she wanted Mark back. She would have things her way, however. She would!

It mattered little to the sleek and powerful German Shepherd dog – a mixed breed with a small amount of feral wolf – 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 patrolling male-humans who sought to destroy him. A balanced sense of avenged pride burned warmly in his deep muscular chest; through their females, he had punished them for the brutal beating he had received at the hands of their black sheriff, satisfying the primeval law instinctively imbedded in his uncanny animal-brain. Yet, in so doing, he had rekindled the banked embers of another smoldering force from the dawn of time, a seething aberrant urge that had brought him down from the hills again this night.