The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(155)
“Well, let’s hope that Junior can shut that filthy dog up.”
“Yeah…I just wanted to let you know. I need to get up to Atoka, Sarah Anne has probably got supper ready for me.”
“Okay. Bye, Dandy.”
“Bye,” he says, turning to ride away once more. Dwight enters the house and Pauline looks nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who was that?” she answers.
“It was Dandy. He wanted to let me know that Junior is coming back.”
“Oh, good. I must admit, I was worried.”
“Yeah, first you have to get married in secret, and now you are scared of your own shadow because of that sonofabitch.”
“It’s okay, honey…”
“No! It isn’t okay! He needs to be shut up!” Pauline can see that Dwight has been bottling up his frustrations, and quickly walks around the table, hugging him from behind. Her large breasts press into the back of his head like a firm pillow, and Dwight feels his anger ebbing away at the touch of his bride. “I love you,” he says, much more calm.
“I love you too, Dwight. I would have married you in burlap if it meant having you.”
“I am definitely yours, Pauline,” he answers softly, turning to kiss her. She presses her lips to his mouth, but instead of a quick kiss, she slips her tongue into his mouth, instantly arousing him. Their dinner sits forgotten as the two newlyweds clutch at one another, ripping their clothing to shreds.
Quickly, they are both naked, and Dwight flings everything off the table, laying his extremely attractive wife down on the wooden surface. He sits back in his chair, and proceeds to insert his tongue into Pauline’s dripping wet channel. He thoroughly tastes her essence, quickly bringing her to a climax, releasing even more moisture, which he thirstily takes into his mouth while Pauline’s hips write and roll in his hands. “Oh, honey! I love it when you do that!” she yells her pleasure.
When she has calmed down once more, she sits up, pressing her mounds into his face, which he hungrily laps at with his tongue. She slides off the end of the table, and immediately settles down on his erect lance, sheathing his enormity in her cleft. She begins to ease up and down the length of his shaft while he sits in his chair, enjoying every second of the pleasure she gives him. He holds her large, firm hips in his hands while he continues to nibble and suck at the tips of her mountainous breasts.
Several minutes later, Pauline screams out in orgasm once more while Dwight’s erection explodes inside her, filling her passage with his seed. They are both exhausted from the power of their respective orgasms, but continue to sit there, with his length buried inside her while they kiss and talk for several long minutes.
Chapter 5
The Proof
Meanwhile in a room on the second floor of the Hanged Man Saloon, Tyson Abrams himself is pulling up his pants. He has spent the last thirty minutes fulfilling his most debased fantasies with the prostitute, Sally. She remains lying in the bed, hurting from the abuse she has received for coin, questioning for the first time her choice to service the horny men of Coleman County. True, she has never come across a customer with tastes so debased and horrific as Tyson’s, but she fears ever coming across another again.
He did pay her well, however, as he had promised he would downstairs, and succumbing to his desires had the added benefit of refocusing him on the task of ruining Sandra Ammor’s plans to continue matching local bachelors with mail order brides from the east.
“Thank you for that, nigger,” Tyson says, “Emily won’t ever let me do that to her.”
“Well, you paid me,” Sally says, wincing. “Let’s look at that journal of yours.”
“Fine, it’s in my coat, over there,” he says, indicating his duster in the corner. Sally stands, and walks naked over to the coat, searching the pockets for the small black book. When she finds it, she sits back down, her large chocolate breasts hanging free. She lights a cigarette, and waits for Tyson.
When he is finally done dressing, he walks over and sits down beside her, a cigar clenched between his teeth, and together, they fill the room with smoke. He finally picks up the book, and turns back to one of the earliest entries, dated July 14th. “Do you want me to read it aloud?” he asks Sally.
“Yes, I can’t read it myself.” Tyson clears his throat and begins to read:
July 14, 1887
I have decided to do something about the single men in this county. The single women who live here do not deserve husbands as good as many of the men who live here. My own brother, David, is a fine man, and would make a great husband for any woman, but he himself has told me that the women in Coleman County do not attract him for a variety of reasons, chief among them being the desperately low number of Christian women and the correspondingly high number of whores who parade bold as brass in the street. What man wants to marry a former whore who has slept with every man in the county at least twice? Not one.
“Well, that makes me feel great,” Sally says sarcastically.
“She has a point, nigger,” Tyson says viciously.
“You weren’t complaining fifteen minutes ago!”
“Because I don’t have to take you home, now do I? Now shut up!” Tyson spits at her, turning to another date, this one in August.
August 2, 1887
I have decided on my first match. Junior Parker is a fine man who is God-fearing and more than a little wealthy, but he has never married, and David says that this is because he is afraid that the women in the county will only want him for his money.