Karim al-Zib

Wild in the country book one

CHAPTER ONE

"Are you ready yet, DesirЋe?" her mother called from down the hall. "You don't want to be late."

DesirЋe patted her golden hair into place, smoothed her modest, Sunday suit down over her flat belly, and adjusted her bra again. Her breasts were a liability to her, big and melon-like, the kind of feature that screamed "Slut!" to everyone who looked on her. That was why she always wore a jacket to conceal them when she went to church. It was because Pastor Hemmings, who was also the local MD with a practice on Main Street, depended on her to sing a spiritual aria – or two – at every weekly meeting that she was in such a hurry this morning. She had been out late with Mark, her fiancee.

Since DesirЋe had moved to Pickford's Meadows and begun singing for the pastor's congregation, attendance had grown so much that he had begged her to make her vocal contribution a regular performance. She didn't mind, for she rarely missed Sunday meetings. Indeed, when they had moved from Chicago to the country, Thurston Mitchell, her father, had chosen the community based on the church that they regularly attended at home.

At home. She still thought of Chicago as her home, but father had taken her away from that, and she was too dutiful a daughter to defy him and go it alone. It had been difficult to leave her young friends and life behind, her university education and her music studies, and she often wondered why it had had to be. But she was an obedient daughter.

But she was eager to get there today and see Mark again. He was her love, and it had been hard to kiss him goodnight at the door last night and leave him for the night. It was so hard to be away from him for even an hour. Today was an easy, restful day, and they always enjoyed a picnic somewhere out on her father's enormous ranch.

"Are you ready?" Mother was at the door, a smile on her face. She was proud of her young, sweet-faced daughter with the elegant soprano singing voice.

"Yes, Mom," she said, following the older woman through the large, rambling house. Dad was waiting in the crescent-shaped driveway in the big Mercedes. DesirЋe got in the back and they moved smoothly away in the direction of the small town that had become the center of their lives since having moved here.

Mark would be there, waiting for her.

***

Clete Anderson stood cocksure and grinning by his pickup truck, pushing out his big, hairy chest against the uniform shirt he wore and the badge that gleamed on the left side of it. This Sunday morning, he chewed on a donut and watched the people filing out of the church house while the pleasantly-smiling Pastor Hemmings shook their hands. It was a fine, sunny day and going to church was not exactly what Clete would have done to pass the time, but despite his being the sheriff and one of the very few black men in this town of rich retirees and well-to-do farmers, he had few friends among the people he served as lawman.

Clete was a hard man, not very well-mannered, but he had his finger on his job and no one could take that away from him, and he was proud that he had succeeded in landing himself a fiancee just eighteen months after his arrival. Well, at least Nancy Pace, his new love, didn't care about his race and seemed more than taken with his capable lawman's image. Yes, Nancy was his, or soon would be, when he had broken down her resistance to his sexual demands. She was a sweet little innocent and he was sure that her protestations about her virginity were real, but he had no intention of waiting until their marriage to make use of her luscious, young body. He had to admit that the lovely girl, just nineteen years old, was one of the loveliest around, with but only two or three equals that he knew of.

But there was one girl that interested him more than any, and it galled him that someone else had found her first. The problem was, she had never warmed to his approaches and his flattery, but had always just shyly smiled and acted as if she didn't get the idea.

That girl was DesirЋe Mitchell, the rarest flower he had ever cared to pick. She had lightish, honey-blonde hair that dropped to her mid-back, a body of a model's proportions but with a hint of sexy baby fat, and a big pair of round, fruitlike breasts that begged to be stroked and sucked. Her eyes were wide and blue and her lips full enough to be sensual without being bimbo-ish, for there was no denying her intelligence.

Clete knew that she had had to pass up a musical scholarship at Northwestern U in Chicago when her father, a successful corporate lawyer and a puritan fearing for his daughter's chastity, sold their home in the Windy City and moved to the safety of the massive farm he had bought her in this county, taking her from the danger of fraternities and sororities and drugs and college orgies to the serenity of the country. Not that DesirЋe would have fallen in with all the "sin", for she simply was not the kind. It was just that her father couldn't trust her and thought she should spend another couple of years under his wing. Clete knew all this from listening to the gossip around town and it interested him to find out what this lovely girl was doing.

So every Sunday he stood outside the church where she dutifully and willingly attended, and she was always up front with the choir, singing solos for the congregation in that heart-melting soprano voice that had made her the recipient of three university scholarships. Today, Clete had stood in the door while she sang and smiled broadly when her eyes fell upon his dark face. He wondered if his lust for her showed too strongly in his eyes, for, even though he had found a future wife in Nancy Pace, he had every intention of fucking DesirЋe Mitchell, at least once in his life, if not more.

The main obstacle in that lay in the fact that it appeared that twenty-year-old DesirЋe had already found love, if not yet a sexual relationship, with Mark Denning, the chairman of the local town council. Denning, like Clete, was in his early thirties, a law school graduate with political aspirations, cutting his teeth on local government before moving into state politics. Tall, handsome, clean – and white – Mark Denning seemed to be everything DesirЋe's father wanted for her, and the girl herself appeared to be more than happy with the arrangement. While no one had seen the pair doing any more than holding hands and speaking quietly in the corner of the cafe or movie house, Clete was feeling jealousy on behalf of the huge, twitching, black cock he kept in his uniform pants, and today he thought he might satisfy his curiosity about the couple.

Mark came through the door, shaking the hand of the pastor. Hemmings was about forty-five, wore glasses beneath a thinning hair-line, and was beginning to show a middle-age paunch. But why shouldn't he have a bit of a belly. He was not only the pastor, he was also the town physician, the man that cured the sick in body on weekdays and the sick in soul on Sunday. Clete noted how Hemmings' eyes followed DesirЋe as she and Mark walked away toward the young man's car. If seemed even the married preacher was at least a little attracted to the ravishing young blonde with the heavenly singing voice. Clete burned with envy as Mark opened the car door for her, oh-so gallantly, and helped her in.

Clete checked his watch. Nancy was waiting for him, near the old house down by her uncle's farm, where she and Clete would meet privately and talk while the latter plucked impatiently at her clothing in an effort to bare her sexy body and relieve her of her virginity. Perhaps today he would be successful, would introduce her to the pleasures of the flesh, and make the matter of marriage a little less pressing for him. Clete knew that Nancy's family didn't really approve of him, neither of his job nor of his color, but they were a bit more enlightened that DesirЋe's father, and this was, after all, 1996.

Clete checked his watch again, debating whether to hurry over to see Nancy right away, or followed the Golden Pair. All of Pickford's Meadows was talking about them, speculating, but Clete, after a brief hesitation, decided to find out for himself. Nancy could wait a while. She would be safe, after all, on her uncle's farm on a beautiful day like this.

Clete nodded a greeting that was also a parting gesture to Dr. Hemmings, and slid behind the wheel of his truck.

CHAPTER TWO

DesirЋe rolled her sparkling eyes up to the handsome face of her sweetheart Mark. When they had decided to announce their engagement it had been a surprise for everyone, including her parents, though she had known that they could only approve. They liked Mark, loved Mark, and they had been overjoyed that their only daughter had found such a fine young man to marry. DesirЋe had really been in no hurry to get married. Her education in music had been more important to her in Chicago, but her straight-laced parents, her father in particular, had panicked when a friend of hers, of a somewhat disreputable aspect, had shown up at the door of their mansion asking for his darling, pristine daughter.

Father, now very rich and in a position to be an absentee director of his corporate law firm, quickly moved the family to his distant country farm where DesirЋe would be safe from the influence of modern society. The fact was that DesirЋe was his only child, his beautiful wife having lost her reproductive powers through a medical accident during her second abortive pregnancy, and Thurston Mitchell had no intention of losing his one and only daughter to modern decadence.

DesirЋe, for her part, had at first complained, albeit meekly, about having to leave her friends and her precious university studies. After all, she was barely into her sophomore year and now she was torn away from all her plans for the future. She had never been close to any boy, never in love, and her music and literature courses helped her compensate for the emotional emptiness in her life. And so coming to Pickford's Meadows had seemed like the end of her world.

Until she had met Mark Denning. It seemed that they had found each other, with an instant attraction and desire. Mark, young as he was at only thirty-two, was head of the town council. When she had seen him, addressing the audience at the council meeting with such style and personal grace, her heart had immediately begun to melt in a way they she had never experienced before. For the first time in her life she had felt a burning in her cheeks, a tingling in her tight pink nipples on those big, round breasts she kept carefully concealed beneath her chaste clothing, and a definite twitching in her untouched pussy as it positively flooded with her feminine juices. And then she had seen the answering light in Mark's eyes across the room, and she had sat there quietly, while her parents stood talking to other citizens, after the meeting's end.

While her heart pounded in her warm bosom, causing her firm breasts to quiver, he crossed the floor to her, self-assured and poised, and began talking to her. He never used any of the standard flattering pick-up lines, simply introducing himself and making a tentative date to meet her at the church social. DesirЋe already attended regularly, her place at the front of the choir established, so meeting him there was nothing anyone could really talk about, but it was at that later date that he had first asked her out.

They began dating steadily, and then people did begin to talk, but romance was no scandal, and DesirЋe's parents were more than happy with clean-cut, college-educated Mark Denning. After being nearly inseparable for eight months, they became engaged, and Phillip Mitchell was so elated that he threw a grand party at the mansion for all their many friends in Pickford's Meadows. There they had announced their engagement before all assembled, among them quite a few uninvited, including sheriff Clete Anderson.

No one had noticed the look that crossed Clete's face, just last Saturday, when Mark had announced the great news to all the guests. No one had heard Clete's teeth grind in anger and frustration, for he had set his cap for the young, blonde beauty, never thinking that perhaps she might be way above his class and far beyond his reach. He had spoken with her often and she had been polite but laconic, for, though she never showed it, she did not like him, neither his looks nor his personality.

Some of her girlfriends in college had bragged about their experiences in bed with black men, and though she had said nothing, she had been mildly repulsed. It was not an experience that she cared to share. His white teeth and mustache gave her the feeling of being under consideration by some feline predator and she felt herself shrinking away from his attention. Once, he had touched her arm and she had jerked back and hurried away.

But Clete was far from her mind now, for she was with her beloved Mark and he was taking her for their usual Sunday picnic somewhere on the western side of the 800-acre Mitchell farm. The picnic had become a weekly ritual, and last week had nearly developed into a sinful affair, right after church, and though DesirЋe knew that it was dangerous, she was powerless to stop herself or do anything to avoid going along with him to that isolated place again. After all, she was not a girl anymore, twenty years old, and she could control herself, couldn't she?

She could, but she wondered how. He was so handsome, so noble and strong. And she loved him so very, very much. She would do anything to please him, and there was the problem, for if he were to ask her to give herself to him, she would do it willingly. She would do anything for him, and that was the simple truth, for he was her life. She wondered now how she had ever lived without him.

Mark saw her beautiful, dewy blue eyes on him and smiled. He could see her love, and he returned it with all his heart. No one had inspired him like this since Priscilla, and his feelings for DesirЋe were even stronger, much stronger. She was so pure and lovely, an angel, where Priscilla had been something of a shameless siren, a thing more for partying and bedding, not for marrying and cherishing. Of course, Priscilla had been incensed to think that the pristine little city girl had unwittingly stolen his affections from her and made her the laughing stock of Pickford's Meadows.

Mark turned off the paved road and followed the dirt trail that serviced the far reaches of the estate. Mitchell definitely had a lovely piece of property here and DesirЋe would be a very wealthy woman someday. Not that that meant a thing to Mark, for he had every intention of becoming rich on his own. In fact, he was well on his way to it, for he had a law practice himself and between that and his plans to become a US Senator, he would be very well off. Even now he was being groomed for state politics and that was why he would be going to the capital, just a week hence, to meet with the party bosses to arrange his nomination for the next election.

"How can I bear to be separated from you for a whole week, Mark?" DesirЋe complained as he stopped the car near the huge, spreading elm where they customarily enjoyed their Sunday lunch. "A whole week without you! I'll be a nervous wreck."

Mark shook his head and squeezed her hand warmly. "You know I've got to do it – for us. Don't worry, darling, you'll be with me in my heart."

Getting out, he went to the trunk and took out the picnic basket and the drinks cooler, and the large, thick blanket they would sit on. They sat under the tree, and Mark took a bottle of wine from the cooler and poured it while DesirЋe blushed. DesirЋe rarely drank wine, or anything else with alcohol, for that matter.

***

Clete Anderson followed the nearly dry stream bed that ran across the Mitchell property. Watching through binoculars, he had seen them come this way and had parked his Land Cruiser behind the hill. He knew the Mitchell property well. He had spent many an afternoon and evening trailing the wild dogs that were preying on the small livestock hereabouts and frightening the cattle. He had trailed them this way, almost to the Mitchell mansion. But that was another story altogether.

Yes, Clete knew the land and had known that they would picnic under the big elm. Last week he had found things that they had left behind. He saw them sitting there, talking, embracing, kissing, and his guts burned with jealousy. Even so, he moved closer, keeping out of sight beneath the lip of the arroyo, until he came within just eight or ten feet of them. He was so close!

Damnit! He knew he should leave. Nancy was waiting for him at that old abandoned house where they would be able to spend some time alone together. It crossed his mind that today he might be successful in getting her to let him fuck her, and the idea caused the massive shaft of his penis to jerk in his pants, yet instinctively he knew that if he stayed, he would see something very enticing indeed. Somehow, he expected something to happen here, today at this picnic spot.

CHAPTER THREE

A cool breeze was blowing somewhere off to the west above the lush, surrounding hills of the valley. An old stone mansion where no one lived any more stood in a small valley on the Pace property in Pickford's Meadows since its building some five-score years past.

It was late afternoon, and warm, and someone watching from above might have seen the trim figure of a young girl moving rapidly as she hummed to herself in an expectant voice, moving around the front of the old house, moving toward the rendezvous with her sexy boyfriend and husband-to-be. Immediately, her tiny feet began to gain in tempo. Her young mind was not at ease and she hummed a love song to herself. She was thinking that her uncle could get quite up-tight if he found out she was meeting Clete up here. It was one thing, a very socially precarious thing, to be engaged to a black man, but to be meeting him alone up here, like this, where a number of girls often met their boyfriends – and became pregnant – was quite another. She knew she was being daring with Clete, but she had actually done nothing really wrong, after all, had she?

The first time she had come this way with Clete, he had been hunting Liz Clark's runaway dog that was plaguing the local farmers. Clete had cornered the huge, vicious animal, but the rifle, with which he was such a fine shot, had jammed. While Nancy stood gasping with fright, her hands pressed to her pounding heart, Clete had clubbed the massive animal with the useless – almost – firearm until he had run away yelping. Somehow, only the pain had deterred the dog from killing them, though from the deep teeth marks he left in the butt of the Winchester, Nancy felt intuitively that he had felt no fear for Clete.

Nancy shook off the fright of the memory and leaned against woodwork on the verandah. Inside was old furniture where, after Clete arrived, they could sit and talk and make plans for their future. Nancy smoothed down her skirt and looked at her watch. She had arrived late already, so where was Clete?

***

DesirЋe put down her wine glass, which had already been filled and emptied twice, and leaned against the firmness of Mark's body. She felt his face coming down to her and she lifted hers for the kiss, allowing her mouth to open and his tongue to move lightly around the inside of her mouth. So far, this was nothing new. They had kissed many, many times in the last eight months, and he had even touched her breasts. Last week, before they had shaken off the temptation to go further, he had touched her damp pussy through the fabric of her panties.

So DesirЋe didn't panic when once again his trembling fingers covered a breast and moved inside her dress to feel the smooth, throbbing, virginal flesh. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and she purred uncontrollably as he felt her nipples come tinglingly erect. He palmed the heavy mounds, marveling at the firmness and creaminess of her flesh.

"Oh, sweetie, you've got such marvelous tits," Mark let slip.

DesirЋe gave a little grunt of pleasure and gasped, "Oh, Mark, darling, please don't talk like that. We really mustn't do this." But perhaps it was the wine or her own bursting sexuality that took away the strength she needed to push his hands away. She let him ease her back onto the blanket while his mouth came down on hers with increasing passion.

She trembled as he unfastened the buttons that ran down the front of her dress, and he seemed so experienced as he opened the front of it, pushed her bra up, and exposed her lovely tits to the sun, muttering, "Sweetheart, oh, darling," his mouth sucking the distended pink nipples into his mouth. The feelings shot from her breasts into her loins and she moaned, begging him to stop while desperately clutching his head to her heaving tits.

Mark's mind had nearly left him. He loved her so much. He could not stand to think of anything happening to her, but here he was, almost out of control, about to do it to her. Heaven knew he couldn't stop himself, so he hoped in the back of his mind that she would soon push him away. At the same time he hoped that she would not stop him, that she would finally spread her lovely thighs and allow his penis into that hot wet hole he knew she was guarding between her legs.

***

Clete's eyes were as big as plums. DesirЋe's beautiful tits were there in front of his eyes in all their glory, and from where he watched he could see the underneath of her white panties. Her dress' hem had slid up and Denning's hand was moving up to that spot where Clete could see a gathering moisture dampening the fabric. Damnit! Denning was going to fuck her right now, under the spreading elm tree, and Clete was supposed to be meeting Nancy. Damnit! But he couldn't leave now! Not with the beautiful bitch on her back and exposed and panting there with her boyfriend's hand under her skirt.

***

The sleek and powerful animal had stealthily slipped into the small valley and slinked toward the old abandoned house where, unknown to him, Nancy awaited Clete's arrival. He had been coming this way every day, hoping to be able to ambush Clete and have his revenge for the beating he had delivered that time two months before. With embittered patience, he had lingered in a nearby wood waiting for his time, his unique senses vindictively tormented by the cruel memory of the beating. There was nothing to be done but wait for his time of revenge!

Now, he clung in motionless silence to the shadows of the overgrowth, his burning amber eyes piercing the surroundings. He watched the girl's approach and knew her from the time before. There was youth and vivacious beauty in her movements, his inimitable instincts told him. Earlier, he had stalked the house of the brutish man who had so cruelly hurt him. Then, he had intuitively moved toward this old house where people had once lived. There, he waited, a mysterious and indefinable power advising him of the oncoming girl and her relationship to the man and the town he had sworn his animal vengeance against.

***

Sometimes, maybe too often, when she was alone and uneasy, Nancy thought of her parents and that fateful night they had the accident on the way to Houston. It was futile, even foolish, she knew; they were long gone, long ago, and now there was only her uncle, and her love for Clete, but she couldn't help thinking about them sometimes.

Well, she did love her uncle and aunt, straightlaced as they were. They'd been good to her; besides, he was her mother's brother and only living relative. Her own parents never would have stood for her romance with Clete.

My God! What was that? For a moment, she'd thought she saw eyes, burning eyes like glowing coals in that brush! What on earth could it be? Maybe, she'd better start running…

Lobo anticipated the long, dark-haired teenager's frightened move seconds before she made it, and with furtive swiftness bolted from his hidden place to confront her there on the narrow verandah of the house!

In overwhelming horror, Nancy froze! She stared in awesome disbelief at the massive creature's viciously bared fangs gleaming in the faint moon-light! Her breathing choked in her young throat at the blazing eyes that were fixed on her and the ferocious, deep-throated growl that the huge beast gave forth threateningly. Had she tried, she knew that she could not move, for her legs were growing numb, as if they were petrified! It was him, that wild dog! The thing around his neck glistening in the sunlight. He was someone's pet, she knew, rumored to be Liz Clark's runaway, part-dog, part-wolf. She had thought she'd seen an ID tag when they'd chased and gotten close to them those two months before. Oh God! He was moving toward her, crouching, preparing to leap…

Scream! Scream…! She tried, but could only gasp, and then, with her terror pressing the breath of life out of her chest, she fainted.

***

Mark found the virginal, innocent girl squirming in his arms in a way that he would not have thought possible. She was trembling with arousal as he licked and sucked on her breasts and he palmed the fat mound of her pussy, her panties the only barrier to his touch. There was nothing to prevent his slipping his fingertips under the crotchband of that flimsy garment and delving into that warm crevasse, and that is what he did. His fingers found a well of hot, slippery liquid, nearly gushing from her. He heard her moan and her hands clutched weakly at the wrist of that hand.

"Oh, Mark," she breathed. "You've got to stop, before it's too late!"

He groaned and pushed a gentle finger into her wet vagina. "Yeah, babe, but I don't think I can." He found her clitoris and felt it swell and throb to his touch, and he began to manipulate it in a way he had learned long ago. His cock was hard and burning with need and he loosened his belt buckle and zipper to make room for the expansion. His fingers now moved freely between her legs and he dipped inside her pussy and then made her moan when they slid into that other, tight hole just below it. Her mouth was devouring him and as he pulled her panties down her unresisting legs, he knew that before long, right or wrong, their time would come to fuck like normal sweethearts everywhere.