Mark uncontrollably grinned as he spurred the automobile back into motion, her less-than-naive coquettishness giving him another start that he hadn't been prepared for. He naturally had had some experience with these teenage girls in his life, but he doubted that he'd ever quite get comfortable with their casual disregard for the teasingly provocative sexiness they exuded. It was difficult to believe they were unaware of their ripened young charms, though he'd never thought of Nancy along those lines, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was either getting old, or blind… or was it that she had suddenly grown up when he wasn't looking?
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Mr. Denning?" Nancy questioned, purposely twisting in the seat so that she faced him, her young nylon encased legs nearly touching at the knees, her fully rounded thighs knowingly revealed to him. She saw his handsome, greyish-eyes magnetically rake over them, and a little quiver of excitement fluttered through her.
"I have a friend here, a writer who'd like to interview you, Nancy," he clumsily managed, gluing his eyes to the street ahead with the sight of her curvaceous young thighs mentally branded in his mind. Damnit! He was still hot and horny from his honeymoon. "Name's Rodney Foster and he writes for a national magazine!"
"About the dog, Lobo, that day?" she quickly responded, her teenage, dark eyes innocently absorbing him, then clouding with sadness at the memory. "Is that what he wants to know about?"
Mark again swallowed, this time more tightly. "Ah… yes, he wants to do an article on the wild dog phenomenon, Nancy, but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about, though I'd welcome anything you have to add to our record on the experience you had."
"Oh, there's nothing more. I've told everything. He did it, you know, screwed me, that's all," Nancy replied with a sadness that caused her youthful face to crumble into something outwardly pathetic. Her choice of lewd words causing the flesh of his balls to creep! "Well, nearly all. That is, there's one thing that I haven't told anyone, Mr. Denning, but… but I know I can tell you."
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Wh-What's that, Nancy?" he managed, not daring to look her way and/or down at those luscious young thighs again.
"Well, at first I tried to fight him," she said, speaking in a childishly soft, sultry voice that he could never know she had painstakingly rehearsed before a mirror. But then, she excitedly thought, there had been many things that had happened to her since Lobo, hadn't there? And her lover Clete had introduced her to them all. "At first I did, until I realized that it was no use, and then… then, I gave up! I-I let him do it, even helped by pushing myself back at him! D-Does that make me sound like some sort of d-dirty girl, myself? I-I mean, the way some people look at me."
Christ almighty, Mark thought, driving over toward the Pace ranch, skirting the pool where the girl's car sat drowned and immobile. He was getting a gnawing hard-on at the sound of her voice and the lewd story she was telling him. He couldn't help but imagine his own young bride, DesirЋe, naked and kneeling before the huge German Shepherd, and the brute's thrusting cock driving her right out of her skull!
"Listen," he hoarsely rasped, forcing the unwanted fantastic thought of his young wife mounted by that dog, ramming his feral animal-cock up between the smooth grinding cheeks of her naked buttocks and into her pink pussy from his mind! "Listen, there's no one in this town who can look down on you, Nancy! You put that right in the forefront of your mind, eh? Try to understand that many of these people are bigoted religious fanatics who don't know any better. They're not really to blame anymore than you were for what happened!"
"I-I've tried to, Mr. Denning," she softly replied, gazing downward toward her candidly exhibited legs in an accomplished gesture, fiery sensations already tingling hotly through her at the sudden realization of their being out on the road and all alone, far from the relief of Clete's marvelous cock! Her brain burned with a sudden thought. It could happen if she was clever enough! But did she dare? Mark Denning, wow, he was so handsome! "Honestly, I've tried, even thought that they didn't know any better, religious fanatics, as you say, but…" she looked up at him, her flashing dark eyes rounded in question, "but even religious people know about fucking, don't they?"
She might have shoved a white-hot, searing iron right between his legs. Mark's head reeled at her casual use of the graphic four-letter word, his swollen hardness jerking noticeably inside his pants-front! Goddamn, what was he doing out here in the hills with her, anyway? He'd momentarily lost his head, that was what! The fresh young feminine fragrance of her, and her wide-eyed innocent use of lurid words, say nothing of the way she was displaying her thighs all the way up to her panties to him, had lustfully set his blood-thumping cock into doing his thinking for him! What the hell was he stupidly contemplating but having a shag with Clete Anderson's fiancee! He, a happily married man. Goddamn, he could see the white nylon crotchband of her panties snugly hugging the puffy little pubic mound between her lush, teenage thighs!
"Well, don't they Mr. Denning?" she persisted.
"Y-Yeah… sure, Nancy… of course they know," he stammered, tearing his eyes from between her youthfully firm legs and beginning to look for a place to turn around. He had to get hold of himself! His resistance was at low-ebb due to his hypersexual honeymoon. It seemed that all his cock wanted was to fuck something. His brain was groggy, his slowly stiffening prick was lecherously attempting to make his decisions for him! Christ, the narrow wisp of satiny whiteness caressing the fleshy swell between her rounded, full, young thighs was searingly imprinted in his roused brain! "Don't worry, it'll all work out for you, honey."
Honey! He'd called her "honey", and there was no doubt about that swelling in his pantleg and the way it'd jerked when she'd used the word, fucking! God, it looked as big as Clete's! Not that it mattered how big it was! She knew she'd love it inside her if it were no larger than her little finger! Mark Denning! He was so handsome, and her pussy was getting so tingly wet! How was she going to manage it? She said: "What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Mr. Denning? I'd tell you anything… anything!"
Holy Christ, there wasn't any question, Mark's nearly exhausted intelligence screamed! She, this devilish little teenage cockteaser, was laying it on the line before him! He couldn't help but think of Priscilla Devereaux's flagrant lust that had been his real indoctrination! Damn, was Nancy blindly gearing toward being another Priscilla? He tried to think of his wife, DesirЋe, anything that would restore a measure of needed reason, but the mere thought of his voluptuous, blonde bride brought fire to his brain.
"What do you know about the drugs going around town and the high school?" he threw at her, almost hoping that she would get angry and bring the whole trouble-heading scene to an end right there.
"What do you want to know?" the teenager questioned, inching closer to him along the seat.
"The pushers – who are they?" Mark snapped.
"Johnny Canning, Billy, his brother, and Sam Quaid, but I haven't seen them around for a while," she quickly answered. "No one's seen them, as if they disappeared."
Mark licked at his thin lips. They were the three Clete had picked up and turned loose the next day. "Has the traffic died down?"
"I don't know, Mr. Denning. I've never been involved with drugs at all," she answered, slowly slipping her arm around the back-rim of his seat as she slithered tightly against him. "I've had no interest in them."
"Who's the source, do you know?" he managed, sensing the warm weight of her arm behind him and the delicate play of her fingers at the back of his neck. Jesus Christ, he'd been so right, so right! She was offering all that ripe, youthful loveliness to him to fuck right now if he wanted it!