Jon Reskind - Caesar comes book I

In and out, in and out, Caesar rapidly fucked the slavishly kneeling girl, a wet staccato of flesh-slapping sounds hollowly filling the open, dark cellar, his keen animal-brain savoring a measure of vengeance in his human rape of her helplessly naked young body. His powerful, hardened penis was bursting into her as if she were some ripe fruit, destroying her chaste mind forever, he knew, and therein lay his revenge upon the humans who had destroyed his mate. Between each thrust, he sensed her tender young vaginal passage relaxing, then swallowing his solid length back up inside again and holding it fast in a hot, hungry clutch of eagerly working cuntal muscles. He saw her smooth, white body tense and relax again and again beneath him as she began to incessantly moan. His great organ seemed to grow and harden even more when he felt the soft, fleshy ridges inside her hot contracting belly giving way before his unsparing assault.

Again, she twisted her head to look back at him and he witnessed her mouth suddenly gasping open, but the coming scream half-choked in her slender young throat. Instead, she began to toss her head wildly from side to side her long chestnut-hair flailing about her naked shoulders. She had reached the beginning paroxysm of female orgasm, he perceived, when she began to savagely swivel her rounded, white buttocks hotly and crazily back against him like any of the rutting bitches of his own wild dog pack. His tongue hung loosely from his panting mouth as he fucked with heavy, buttock flattening humps up between the soft, furiously undulating mounds of human, female-flesh. Once more, she screamed, this time, her cry piercing the night while she rammed deliriously back onto his huge thrusting hardness, and he drove it mercilessly forward to begin spitting its hot, wet semen in bullet-like spurts deep up into her young hungrily clasping cuntal passage!

Caesar felt her smooth, rounded buttocks begin to contract and jerk back against his hotly empty testicles, uncontrollably hollowing and tensing, indicating the zenith moment within her voraciously quivering young belly. He felt the thick, wet combination of their orgasmic release seeping out around the flushed lips of her rhythmically throbbing pussy lips as her hot, clutching young vaginal channel ravenously squeezed and pulled at his rapidly spurting penis.

She fell forward then, away from him, her legs still spread wide apart, and in the light of the half-moon her rounded white buttocks glistened wetly from his expended semen. He could see her opened pink flesh and the soaked dark hair of her ravished young loins, as she breathed heavily in her obscenely spread position. Exultantly, he stepped over her outstretched nakedness and raised his head toward the moon…

Across the uneasily sleeping valley, an eerie howl split the heavy silence, causing men and women to restlessly toss in their beds… a harmless stray wolf, perhaps…

The chilling, wolf-like cry had sent a tiny tremor rippling over Jean Blakely's curvaceous, naked body, and she snuggled backwards in the bed, up tighter against her young husband, finding reassurance in his sheltering, rugged masculinity. He stirred with the movement, making her realize that she was tickling his face again with strands of her long blonde hair. His strong hand cupping the resilient flesh of her left breast started to move away, then returned as if in after-thought to reclaim the firm, full mound, and she felt the length of his flaccid penis possessively seating itself tighter back between her buttocks, the pubic hair of his lean pelvis pleasurefully brushing against their yielding, sensitive smoothness.

She quietly sighed in drowsing unrest. Her soft belly and tingling sperm flooded vaginal walls still fluttered with little throbbing spasms from the rapture of their love-making. It had nearly happened this time, and she was confident that very soon they would discover the intimate formula. Most of all, she had made him happy; all else, even her own fulfillment, was of secondary importance… but the animal's lonely cry had seemed to add to her uneasiness.

Wide awake once more, Jean's novelly devoted young mind fell into thought. It was just that everything was so strange to her, she supposed… and she loved him so much. Their marriage, Crescent Valley, this new and foreign life away from the city, the latter all that she'd ever really known… it was such a different existence… except for his being a law-enforcement officer.

She'd vowed, after watching her mom's many many nights of worry that she'd never marry a lawman… and here she was, happier than she could ever have dreamed possible. Of course, with Mark it was a little different; he was a deputy sheriff in an almost rural district, while her dad had been a Los Angeles detective with his life constantly in danger, but why couldn't Mark have been a druggist, or a carpenter, or… or…? Ridiculous… lying there thinking such nonsense…! He was Mark Blakely and she loved him with every ounce of strength she possessed! In fact, she couldn't imagine him being anything else but a deputy sheriff; he looked so handsome in his uniform. Besides, if he'd chosen any other career she probably would never have met him! Certainly, he wouldn't have been in L.A. attending the police academy seminar for that week, nor could her father have invited him home to dinner…!

And what a beautiful, whirlwind seven-days they had been: first, the double-dates with Steve and Carol; then, the private ones of their own… and the very first kiss! Shortly, Mark's proposal had followed. Lord, she'd thought she was going to go out of her mind with happiness! Mom had guessed before they'd even had a chance to tell her, Jean remembered, smiling to herself in the darkness, and Dad had just stood there beaming proudly, waiting to give them both his blessing.

Two months ago, yet it seemed like yesterday that Judge Wilton had pronounced them man and wife. It hadn't been at all what she'd girlishly envisioned as her wedding, but neither she nor Mark had wanted to wait another minute. Besides, he'd had to get back here to the valley and she'd had no intentions of letting him come alone… nor had she really known one single moment of regret over her snap decision. She'd loved him from the very first instant their eyes had met, and that, she knew, would never change regardless of what he did to her… or what he couldn't do… But that wasn't fair, that last uncalled-for thought, she mentally reprimanded, angry with her self. Gently, she caressed his big, virile hand warmly cupping her naked breast, brushing with fervent affection the soft masculine hair that grew sparsely along its back. He would soon discover the intrinsic key to bringing her to orgasm, she reassured herself, a tiny passionate tremor rippling over her once more, the erotic anticipation nearly as satisfying to her young, voluptuous body as the unlocked moment itself might be…

Though he hadn't moved any portion of himself, except his face to escape the perfumed taunting of her silken hair teasing at his chin, Mark lay wide-eyed, well aware of his new young wife's sleeplessness. Again tonight he'd failed, he confusedly thought. And she'd been almost there, that much he felt certain of, but he hadn't been able to hold back his cum any longer! Damn, she was so lovely… her breath-taking body… so soft and white and roundedly curved at every strategic point… he had only to look down at her and he was lost! He'd cum like some sort of unleashed, pumping fountain, his bloated balls achingly pressuring the sperm from them in wild, spurting gushes that had damned near torn him apart! And after that, what could he possibly do for an encore… even knowing that she was as excited and tighter than a drum inside, hoping, just hoping and giving herself to him… only to be left played with, but never released? What else was there for her outside of wrapping her soft arms around his neck as she pressed her warm smooth curies tightly against his spent body and passionately whispered how much she loved him… that it was all right, and maybe next time it would be different? What else… except hit him in the face with a shoe, or something, the way the wealthy and spoiled Lydia Newell would react? But then, Jean was no Lydia, was she, not his gorgeous Jeannie…?