Jon Reskind - Caesar conquers book III

Morgan returned with two joints, re-seated himself and lighted them. He saw the transformation in her eyes, the lewd sparkle causing the heavy length of swelling cock-flesh inside his shorts to jerk convulsively as it began to grow. She sucked the smoke deeply into her lungs and continued to stare at him, while its sweetish aroma reminded him of other problems that he didn't want to think about at that moment. Blakely… the sonofabitch… nosing around… lousing up his whole Goddamned pushing program. He could wind up in prison! Shit, three of his high school boys were still hiding out in the hills because of that deputy prick! To hell with it! He wasn't going to think of that now… because something wild and cock-thumping was budding right in front of him! He could see it in the uncontrollable flagrant eyes of Aaron Newell's hot-assed young daughter…!

Mark Blakely doubted that he had slept two full hours the whole damned night. His plagued brain had been too jammed with the obscene reveries he'd not only been a part of, but had lustfully forced into being with his blinded vengeance. But those long, wakeful hours hadn't been in vain; they'd provided him with the necessary time to come to his senses and determine what he had to do!

They had also given him the darkened solitude he'd needed to reexamine his marriage and feelings toward Jean. Christ, he loved her beyond reason, and marrying her was the greatest thing that'd ever happened to him! It made no damned difference what she ever did… he could and would forgive her! As far as the lesbian bit between her and Carol… what the hell could he expect, the way he'd played rabbit with her right from the beginning? She had to have sexual fulfillment from somewhere… and she'd gotten it, all right… from a Goddamned wild dog and her best girl friend!

His own purely lustful act in vindictively fucking Carol had even produced positive results, aside from the fact that he could never justify it with Steve… and never intended to even try…! He doubted that Carol would ever tell her husband, and there was nothing to be gained in his blurting out the story, then hoping Steve would somehow understand in man-to-man shit! The most considerate thing he could do for his oldest friend was not tell him… and he wouldn't! But whether it'd been his rage, or Carol's overwhelming knowledge of the act of fucking, he'd seen her right through to the end, bringing her climax off like a cloudburst, then, in proper order, his own! Now, he could do it with Jean, too… he was certain of it! He'd discovered the secret, thanks to both of them… but there was something else that had to be done first!

That Goddamned raping brute, Caesar, had to be destroyed! There wasn't any question but what the wild bastard had his lovely Jeannie mesmerized… yes, and maybe Carol, too! How many other women and girls in the valley the massive dog and his vicious pack had fucked and claimed, he had no idea, but now he realized that there was no alternative! He'd get with Link Morgan and organize a chosen posse! They had to be wiped-out, all of them, including Caesar… no matter how handsome an animal he was to his Jeannie, or anyone else…!

With those thoughts in mind, Mark had literally hopped from the guest-bed with the first morning sun-rays, a feeling of mental accomplishment inspiring him. Christ, he even felt rested, he thought beneath the needled spray of the shower, and later when he'd walked into the kitchen where the girls and his red-bearded friend sat, he couldn't control the grin spreading his face.

"What the hell… you look like the cat that ate the birdie!" Steve said, moving with obvious carefulness on the cushioned seat of the breakfast nook. Beside him, Carol looked anxiously up, while opposite them, Jean's smokey-blue eyes raised apprehensively to center on him. "You should ride a horse all night with a flock of drunken idiots, sometime."

"Morning Carol… morning, doll!" Mark greeted, bending to kiss his young wife's smooth white cheek, his tone of voice anything but what they'd expected, he thought, as he slipped into the seat beside his wife. Then, still smiling into her beautiful, almost awed face, he said: "A bit of coffee for the husbandly deputy sheriff?"

"Christ, why the hell didn't you tell me they were drinking maniacs?" Steve said, swallowing from his coffee-mug.

"I did," Mark replied with a grin. "Of course, you didn't do any good out there?"

"Of course! We never saw hide nor hair of anything but a rabbit… and a half-dozen of those fried gunman shot at that!" the red-bearded writer exclaimed.

"I told you," Mark said with a smile as he added sugar to his coffee and read the thank-you expression in Carol's vivacious, dark eyes. Then, he caught his wife's small white hand and gently squeezed it in a warmth he felt from his very soul. "You look so fresh and rested, baby," he half-whispered to her. "You feeling better?"

"M-Much, darling… much."

"That's good. Just take it easy for a few more days. That concussion is nothing to fool with," he said, leaning forward to kiss her offered, lush lips. "Everything is going to be okay… and don't worry… understand?"

"Y-Yes… yes, darling," she whispered.

"Hell, that syrupy slush is fine, lawman, but what do you intend to do about that wild pack?" Steve Foster said slurping from his coffee-mug. "Shit, I didn't realize it was as bad as it is until I heard those men talking…"

"Relax, darling," Carol sultrily soothed, clinging to her husband's arm while she looked to Mark with gratifying eyes.

"We're going to take care of that today, Steve," Mark said, avoiding all of their glances. "I'm putting together a selected group of the more capable men. There's no question… that pack of wild brutes has to be destroyed!" He felt Jean's small hand clutch tightly at his arm and tried to understand… but there was no other way, and she had to know!

"What about the conservationists?" his friend asked.

"I've waited long enough for them. I owe protection to my jurisdiction first and foremost," Mark said, ignoring Jean's clutching hand. "I can't wait any longer. Those animals have to be destroyed before they make a carnage of the whole valley… and I'm sure there isn't anyone here who doesn't understand that… is there, darling?"

Jean couldn't speak; she could only stare at him. And later, fixing breakfast for them with Carol, each girl did little more than transmit their apprehensive inner thoughts to one another through the fear-filled expressions of their worried eyes…!

Between the effects of the pot and the bourbon, plus the lustful impression Link Morgan's huge cock had indelibly etched in her sensuous mind, Lydia Newell was experiencing her not unusual, quickly aroused salacity. Fiery sensations of lewd craving had begun to hotly tingle between her legs and at the base of her soft belly as she sat staring across the kitchen table at the lecherous, barrel-chested man whose mean eyes were obscenely reflecting her own lewd thoughts.

"A-Are we thinking along the same lines, doll?" she heard the massive grey-haired man who was old enough to be her father rasp in a dry-throated voice. "I mean… don't get me wrong… I wouldn't want to be out of line, Lydia… or do anything to spoil our… our working friendship…"

He was clever, the evil old bastard, letting her know he was aware that there would be nothing amorous on her part, and that she liked him. A stud service was more in keeping, she wantonly thought, again mentally picturing the lascivious spectacle of his long, thickly hardened cock. Further sensations of building desire churned intensively in her moistening loins and she rubbed her smooth, full inner-thighs together, massaging the hotly flushing lips of her simmering, pantyless cunt.