Chapter 35

Tanya found Liz bending over Dusty, who whimpered while she cleaned his bloody wound near his shoulder.

"Somebody shot him," Liz said, without looking up. "No doubt that bastard Clete." She worked carefully. "Looks like the bullet went clear through, though. Otherwise, he might not survive. We couldn't take him to a vet to get it taken out. They'd shoot him dead for sure. Everybody in the county knows the story, and any dog with a bullet hole would be suspect."

Tanya looked on with concern over the injured animal that had pleasured her on several occasions. To lose him now would almost be like losing Rodney. It was a strange intimacy, but it did exist.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Liz said, "Get some needles and thread. Boil them in the kitchen, and see if you can find some peroxide."

Tanya turned away to the task, and heard Liz add, "And I think there are some antibiotics in the medicine cupboard. Crush them up for me and mix them with some meat."

The younger girl bustled around, worried and irritated. She had known that the dogs were public enemies number one in the area, and perhaps with good reason, for she and Liz had trained them to take advantage of the neighborhood women, had taught them to work in concert to rape when possible. It had been Liz's secret agenda, in which Tanya had unknowingly assisted at the time. Now she understood what they had been doing in the training last month, and how Liz had wanted to avenge herself on those who had made themselves her enemies. Still, even in her understanding of the situation, she found it impossible to believe that anyone could take a shot at man's--or rather woman's--best friend.

In the following hour, Tanya was impressed with the expedient manner in which Liz worked, cleaning and "suturing" the suffering animal, then inducing him to ingest the antibiotics to fight infection. And more impressive yet was to see Dusty get to his feet after the operation and curl up on the rug to watch television.

Liz looked at Tanya, who returned her smile, and they both laughed.

"Let's have a drink," Liz said, getting up and going to the kitchen. "I need one."

"Make mine a double, Dr. Clark."

Rodney let himself into the Mitchell home quietly, yet he felt elated by the day's developments and wanted to shout. The pictures in his camera had changed everything and the elusive story truly was beginning to gel. Dogs caught in the act of feeding on a stolen lamb, then hunted down and shot by the savage featured, black sheriff of a white community, whose own white fiancée had been raped by one of these selfsame animals--and that had been documented--was more than any book or national magazine publisher could resist. It was worth a fortune. He, Rodney Foster, had seen it with his own eyes, was himself a hunter of the evil dog pack, having spent weeks trekking up and down hills and through woods and over rocks and tree trunks in search of Lobo and His Gang. Lobo, Spanish for wolf, for a dog part wolf, part Alsatian, and totally and completely the Devil.

He knew it was true, and a bribe he had paid to the orderly in the nearby hospital had revealed--in the recent mysterious case of Priscilla Devereaux--serious injuries to the young woman's private parts, and animal hair, canine fluids and saliva, evidence her rich father may be hoping to keep completely secret but which the young reporter had no intention of keeping from the public. His ambition and financial needs were now overriding all human considerations, as they largely had since arriving here, from his neglect of his passionate, young wife to his needless affair with the sluttish Liz Clark. If Desirée had any idea of the oversexed and promiscuous quality of her friend--

Of course, he had little excuse for neglecting Tanya while carrying on with Liz. It was just his sense of failure that had made him feel alienated and unworthy of his lovely bride of less than two years. She had been very young when they married and while her schoolmate Desirée had gone on to university, Tanya had devoted herself to her ambitious, day-dreaming husband, now approaching thirty years of age and needing somehow to find some success in life.

Now he had it. He had kept his nose to the grindstone and pursued this wild story of bestiality in the rural Midwest. It had nearly broken him and destroyed his relationship with his devoted Tanya. But now he felt triumphant, happy, rejuvenated. And horny. Aroused like a wild stallion. He needed her, needed to fuck her and scream his joy into her face. He was made, and she with him.

Putting his cameras with their precious film down on the couch, he walked through the big house, unbuttoning his shirt. It was very quiet and he wondered if Tanya was at home. He had not seen the Mitchell's car that they had lent her before their departure for Europe, though he had not looked; it was usually kept in the garage. The carpet was thick and he made no sound as he went from the living room, where he had not found her, to the library, and then to the bedroom.

He found the room in very dim light and he almost backed out without seeing her, but then, as if from a dream, he saw her lying there, naked on the bed. She was waiting for him! How did she know that today of all days he would come home feeling great and needing her, and that this afternoon was the time to be there ready for him in bed? Rodney thanked heaven that he had a wonderful, patient, and understanding wife like Tanya, his twenty- year-old angel, this young, fresh vixen.

He didn't turn on the light, but undressed silently, trying to control his excited breathing. He was fairly wild with the long, lovely sight of her lying on her side, her smooth back and bottom toward him, the cleft deep and warm. Was she asleep? He went slowly so as not to wake her. He thought he could bring her out of her afternoon nap with a very pleasant, long-missed surprise.

Rodney crawled carefully onto the bed, his hardening cock lengthening ahead of his trim belly. Her flesh was so smooth, so sweet and fragrant! He reached out and touched her dark hair, lying like spilled chocolate on the pillow, then stroked his fingertips down her shoulder to her waist and beautifully formed hip and thigh. Still, she didn't move, sleeping deeply and soundly, the way young women can.

Rodney started at the ear, planting kisses from her neck and on down her body on the same sensuous path his hands had tenderly just traced, feeling a quick, reflexive jerk of her thigh muscles when his fingers curled around in front and stroked the so- sensitive crease between her pubis and thigh. The silken hair there was dry and fragrant and he could tell she had just showered before going to sleep. She smelled so sweet and pure that he had a flash of super-erotic inspiration.

Rodney reversed the position of his body, putting his head down by her bottom, pressing his hard penis against the back, between her shoulders. He had never done this to her in two years of marriage, but now he was going to give her a real treat. He gently parted her nether cheeks and found the dark recess of her anus, sniffed, and found it just as sweet as the rest of her. His mouth watering with hunger, his tongue reached out and lapped the tightly clenched orifice. She was delicious, and Rodney loved her flavor, her warmth, her gentle aroma. His pointed tongue speared out into the trembling hole and it yielded but slightly, allowing his tongue a fraction of an inch inside her. He licked it avidly, bathing it in his saliva, and it quivered reactively; he did not know that it had had ample lingual attention in just the last few hours.

His tongue had not the strength for a deep intrusion, so he used his index finger to penetrate her there while he pushed his head forward, under and between her thighs, parting them and beginning to work on her recently excited cunt. He tasted an immediate gush of her fluids, flooding his mouth with renewed arousal. Damn it, but his wife was a hot and lovely young female. It made him happy to be able to greet her this way after having neglected her needs for so long. He heard her pleased moan in her sleep. It could be that she would wake up to an orgasm.

Robyn was in a dream world of her own, wrapped in the considerate arms of a lover she had never met, a handsome young man with a lean, muscular body, kind and tender blue eyes, and blond hair. Uncle Jim was nowhere to be found, though there was the frequent snarling nightmare of Cerberus, a dog with multiple heads and a massive, red erection straining at the air. But there was a pleasant fire in her womb, down there at her pussy, and her clitoris was glowing. She felt streams of her lubricant washing through her feminine channel, and something gentle probing her recently evacuated rectum.

It was the sexiest, most wonderful dream she had ever had, and though she felt herself coming awake, she fought back the wakefulness, preferring to stay in this sweet world of fantasy love.

Rodney pulled his ravenous mouth from the girl's streaming, steaming vagina, and carefully drew his finger from the hot grip of her asshole, reversing his position again and pressing up against her back, shifting her upper leg and scooting his hips down to align his pulsing cockhead with the opening of her pussy. This was going to be heaven, after so long away from the comfort of her seething cunt. He found the spot, flexed his legs, and his cock surged into the wet opening to her womb.