Chapter 15

Wakefulness came slowly to Desirée long after the sun had risen and the sun was well on its way across the sky. Her eyelids felt puffy and moved open only with effort.

It was the pounding on the door that was cutting through her fantastic dream, and she shifted her body heavily on the sheets. She was in her own bed, there in her new home that she shared with Mark. Her hands traveled over her body, trying to wake her senses, to bring herself around from the fantasies that had been whipping through her dreams. Dreams of herself, Priscilla naked, dancing around with a camera, Desirée herself on her knees, peering back over her shoulder, over the raised mounds of her bottom, at Clete Anderson, his grimacing, big, white teeth cutting the lusting dark face in half as he pummeled her with his huge penis. She screaming, pleading, moaning. Coming, while the great cock spewed its virulent semen into her spasming cunt.

A dream.

But then her roving hands found the evidence that it could have been more than a dream in the heavily-crusted, glue-like residue matting the lush pelt of her pubic hair, down there by her strangely numb and satisfied pussy. She had been fucking - with someone! Was it really Clete? The thought caused her to shudder.

The knocking at the door went on. Desirée peeled her damp body off the sheet, shrugged on her rob, and shuffled unsteadily to the door. Clete Anderson! Making love to her? Making her come? Was it possible? She shook her head and opened the door.

"We were worried about you, Dezzy," Tanya said from the porch, Rodney at her elbow. "You're late coming to see us."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Tanya," Desirée apologized, pulling the robe closed around her bosom. "I must have overslept."

"Overslept!" Tanya reproved good-naturedly. "It's three o'clock."

"Three o'clock?" Desirée was shocked. She had never slept so late in her life.

"We were going to lunch, remember?" Tanya waited for some reply from the beautiful girl. "Dez, are you all right?"

Desirée stepped back and let the pair in, falling tiredly back on the sofa, the robe riding up and not covering her creamy thighs properly. Rodney was trying not to notice.

"Desirée," Rodney said. "I've got to meet some local people. This magazine article could turn out to be something really big."

"Article?"

"Yes, of course," Rodney said. "The story about the dog raping women. Remember? Well, he's struck again. But this time it's murder."

Desirée stared at him blankly, a cold chill creeping up the back of her neck.

"Haven't you heard?" Tanya asked incredulously. "The dog. He's killed a man."

Desirée groaned in terror. He, Lobo, who had had sex with her just a month previously, had killed a man.

"Tore him limb from limb," Rodney said. "I was out there today. I took this picture." He handed it across to Desirée. "I hope you won't be too shocked, but maybe now you'll understand that it's for real."

With trembling fingers, Desirée took the color blow-up that the young man had just developed in his own portable darkroom. After the briefest glance, she dropped it as if it was a hot iron. She began to shiver all over, even in the heat of the day. She had recognized Johnny Canning, the young man who had raped her before her wedding, just five weeks ago. She remembered her fear at the time, his pimply, grinning face, his heaving body and thrusting cock that had ultimately made her feel such pleasure, that had left her excited and vulnerable to the dog that had invaded her room just after that.

"Dez, are you all right?"

Desirée came back from far away. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

But it was obvious that she was not all right. Rodney could see that she was shaken, and her robe had separated over her thighs and between her carelessly parted thighs, he could see the honey-brown curls of her moist pussy; he shook his head and looked away, again conscious of the feelings he had once entertained for her from afar. Tanya was concerned and walked over to her friend, discreetly pulling her robe back over her creamy thighs.

"Darling," Tanya cajoled, stroking her friend's face with a tender hand. "You've got to pull yourself together. Mark will be back in a few days."

The blonde looked into her friend's eyes, and then her face crumbled into despair. The recollections of the night before came back vividly, her unforgivable behavior and what she had allowed Clete Anderson to do, with her full encouragement. She remembered it all, the black sheriff behind her, shafting her tender body in the most indescribable way with his giant sex organ. It was all true, she now knew, it had happened, and the reality overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

Tanya saw Desirée's pretty, blue eyes turn up while the girl keeled over backward in a faint.

Desirée came around feeling so warm and cozy. Warm water. Warm, warm water. Tender, feminine hands on her body.

Rodney stood in the doorway, stroking his red beard, watching the blonde's lovely breasts bobbing among the bubbles on the surface of the bath water. His eyes were drawn to the silken- haired pussy where Tanya was soaping away the wispy, white streamers of some viscous, pearlescent stuff that was leaking out of the girl's pink cuntal slit into the hot water, something that looked suspiciously like semen. But how could that be? Mark had been away last night, so who could have been doing the duty? No, impossible. They'd just got married and Desirée, like most women, was fastidiously faithful. No, he shouldn't be looking and seeing things and jumping to conclusions. But he smiled at himself, for that was his business. Seeing things and getting suspicious and jumping to conclusions. Writing interesting stories, whether they were entirely accurate or not.

Rodney turned away, berating himself as he walked into the living room to leave Desirée with her privacy. Damn me, she's a friend, he thought. Here he was, speculating on some white stuff floating in the bath water between her knees. Had she been raped by a dog, that wild dog, last night? He surely couldn't write that about Desirée while he was staying in her good parents' home.

Tanya noted Rodney's departure while she tenderly soaped and rubbed Desirée's slippery genitals. The labia, she noted, were rubbed a bit raw and the clitoris was swollen and throbbing.

"Baby," the older girl said. "I'm washing your hotspot 'cause I found something there. Is there something you want, or need, to tell me, Dez?"

Desirée looked at her girlfriend with clouded eyes, full of emotions flashing between pain and guilt and something else that looked to Tanya like lustful deviltry. She let the older girl kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear.