With a sigh, he slipped into the breakfast nook and leaned his head back to watch her wash her hands, then measure ground coffee into the percolator. Jean felt his keen eyes on her back and an uncontrollable tremor of guilt chilled the length of her spine. She was even hesitant to ask him what had happened... if they had seen or heard the wild pack... afraid she might somehow betray her wonderful animal-lover and the forbidden secret they shared together. She could hardly keep the great dog out of her mind, remembering in lucid retrospect flashes of the ecstasy he had brought her... !

"Needless to say, we didn't see hide nor hair of that damned vicious brute," Mark commented with a yawn, his bitter reference to Caesar reflexively vexing lean. "We heard them, though, baying up in the hills, and once there was a hell of a howl right here in town, but none of the sentries saw anything."

"He... he probably won't come back into Crescent Valley again," Jean protectively said. "Maybe he'd just take his pack elsewhere..."

"And maybe he won't," Mark replied, rubbing at his tired eyes. "Anyway, we can't afford to take that chance... not with a wild sonofabitch that dares attack young girls and actually rapes them... Damn, you know, I still can hardly believe it! A wild animal like that actually making a sexual assault on a human female..."

"He doesn't sound very much like a base animal to met!" Jean sharply asserted, unable to contain herself at her young husband's degrading remarks of the massive, loving dog, and sorry immediately after.

"Hey... that's a crazy thing to say, Honey," Mark declared, leaning forward on the table of the booth to more closely observe her. "I don't get your meaning at all. What else would you call a wild and vicious brute-animal?"

Panicky, Jean sought for an answer, berating her own impulsive stupidity. As one lie begets another, so might one indiscreet statement, she realized, as she said: "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he was seduced into doing what he did?"

For a long moment, Mark didn't speak... couldn't. He merely sat staring at his young, ravishing blonde wife, while she busied herself with frying-pan, eggs and the like at the stove, not so much as tossing him a single glance to accompany her absurd question.

"C-Christ, Jean... did I hear you right?" he managed, swinging his feet around until they stuck out from the booth where he sat, almost reaching to the center of the small room. "You really couldn't mean that... little Annie Purcell actually seducing the wild bastard?"

"Well, why not?" Jean snapped, caught up in this malicious web of her own making, and further enraged by her husband's spurious terms for Caesar. She sensed her blue eyes smoldering as she glared at him. "To me, that's far more feasible than Caesar's attacking her! She's a wilderness girl, isn't she... a huntress and all of that? What's so impossible about her somehow seducing him? Women have done it before with dogs and donkeys, and God knows what-not! Well... haven't they... ?"

Suddenly, more fascinated than shocked, Mark continued to stare at his lovely wife, the full realization of her words weirdly adding up to him. Christ, was it possible? Like she said, it made a hell of a lot more sense than the goddamned beast raping her! She could have ripped her own clothing to shreds, and that certainly sounded more in keeping than the other way round! But... but how could she get next to that damned wild monster... and would she dare try... ? What the hell... !

"Baby... I think maybe you've just opened a new can of worms... one nobody but another woman would ever think of!" Mark said, getting to his feet to pace meditatingly around their small kitchen. "In fact, maybe you've just hit the nail smack on the head... though I can't see why she would cry rape, unless she was looking to gain some warped notoriety... you know... like the Salem witch trials..."

"Well... I'm not all that certain Mark," Jean interrupted him, swallowing tightly as she realized the possible damage she could be doing to an innocent young girl's reputation. "I-I merely meant to imply that Caesar may not be as bad as he's painted..." She paused there, almost hearing her husband's eyes as they clicked to fasten on her. God, why didn't she shut up... ?

"Hey... what is this with you... referring to this crazy vicious wild dog as 'him' and 'he' rather than 'it'... calling it Caesar... ? Have you been listening to Granny Obert again? Have you, Jean?"

"How do you want your eggs?"

"Never mind that, answer my question, Baby," he said, going to her and taking her gently by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Have you... ?"

Jean dropped her eyes with an intentional 'naughty-girl' reaction, her protective brain racing, aware that he had provided the out for her. She sighed.

"Yes," she finally replied. "Yesterday morning... I wanted to know more about the stories... the myths, as you say..."

"And what do you say, Darling?" he partially smiled, his eyes searching hers.

She made a tiny nod, as if reluctant to do so, but knowing it was the surest way of escaping the situation she had been sinking deeper and deeper into... as well as protecting their unacceptable relationship of hours before.

"Myths, right?" he insisted.

"Oh Mark... I don't know... I guess so," Jean answered him, but still unwilling to readily deny her wonderful animal-lover. "I don't know, anymore than I'm capable of accusing Annie Purcell of such a thing..."

"Don't let the Annie idea bother you, Baby," he assured, letting go of her and going back toward the booth. "Whether you're right or wrong there, none of us will ever know. I certainly wouldn't make the issue of it. What could it prove one way or the other? Only a nasty piece of circumstances for Annie, and no one wants that. Besides, it wouldn't change a damned thing, the pack has to be destroyed either way..."

Jean started to speak but the ringing telephone stopped her. She made a motion toward laying down the spatula to answer it, but Mark was enroute.

"I'll get it," he sighed. "It's undoubtedly for me... probably one of the ranchers wanting to know what the hell I'm going to do about the sheep he lost last night..."

Jean held up on cracking the eggs into the pan. The coffee was ready and she poured herself a cup, noticing the trembling of her hand. A cold sensation of illicit sensations shivered through her. For the first time in her life, she realized, she had blindly been ready to sacrifice... to hurt another person's reputation in the protection of her own... and a lover's! Dear God, this must be what an adulterous woman felt... !

"Hey Steve, you old hack!" Mark's jubilant voice severed her thoughts. She moved toward the doorway, holding her coffee cup to listen, a pleasant recognition drawing a smile. "How's Carol?" she heard him ask as he dropped onto the arm of the overstuffed chair. "Wait a minute..." he said, then to her in the doorway: "It's Steve Foster! Yeah, Steve, I had to tell Jeannie who was piping me this early in the morning from the big town... Yeah, that's right. What's up, anyway?... Well, that's the way it looks, Steve... and there's a reliable doctor's report to substantiate it. But where did you pick it up? I didn't know it was national news... Well, thanks for that, anyway! If this got an Associated United Press headlines we'd be snowed with reporters, and that we don't need right now... Yeah, still running wild and furious, but no more girls..." Mark laughed. "I can imagine with that lurid rag you represent... Listen, why don't you come up? Bring Carol with you. You guys can stay with us. Jean needs someone like Carol right now... Oh, anytime... tomorrow if you can make it! Good... just as soon as you can, then... Right we'll be looking for you, buddy... right, 'till you get here... Bye."

He cradled the phone, stood and wasted toward her, a pleased smile lightning his handsome face. "Good old Steve," he said, reaching out to slip an arm around her waist and walk her back toward the stove. "Some guy up here from L.A. on a fishing trip told him about the pack and Annie Purcell's rape. So that expose magazine he works for is ready to send him up. He and Carol will be here in a day or so to spend some time with us. Sound good?"

"Great," Jean smilingly replied. "Lord, it seems as if we haven't seen them in years, instead of months."

"It does at that, Baby," Mark said, dropping heavily into the booth once more. "Maybe that's what we both need... old friends to put our minds straight, eh?"

Jean continued to smile toward him, an excited sensation of warmth abruptly filling her at the thought of Carol... of Steve coming. She crossed to the booth and bent down, cupping his face in her hands to kiss.

"How would you like your eggs, master?" she whispered, the first plans of a wonderful, indulgent evening with this man, her husband, before their guests arrived, trickling through her mind.

"Burned."

"Sunnyside or flipped?"

"However you burn them best, Baby," he teased, slipping a hand inside her robe to cup the full resilience of one hanging breast.

"You devil!" she hissed. "Don't you want to eat?"

"What else do you think I'm searching for?" he managed, his big hand gently caressing the rounded, soft mound, erotically taunting its tiny nipple.

Jean gasped to his warm fondling touch, further delights building in her mind. "Tonight," she softly suggested. "A beautiful evening together... and you manage that mister deputy sheriff... an evening of love with your wife?"

Mark couldn't restrain his harsh breathing. He grabbed her and kissed her. "Like all the Caesars in the world couldn't stop me, Baby!" he vowed, his big hands caressing the smooth skin of her pretty face.

"And your eggs, Darling... ?"

"Lay them! Lay them and I'll eat 'em raw... !"

Chapter 7

At college Annie Purcell's mates had begun to look at her as if she were some sort of freak. Sympathy had quickly given way to coarse mutterings and lurid stares, shocking the pretty teenager at first, but not for long. Several times she caught so- called girl friends gaping disparagingly at her, while boys ogled after her with snickering little laughs, vulgar whisperings passing amongst them. What was it Birt Smith, a boy who had been trying to date her for months, had said: "Oh, to be a dog... !"

It amazed Annie that she was being veritably ostracized, yet simultaneously, it fascinated her in the realization that she welcomed her banishment from their junior league! Since her incredible sexual ravishment by the mind-shattering Caesar, nothing had been the same for her. She was no longer that child- like teenager the powerful dog had chosen to assault and rape, and well did she know it. Once the traumatic effects had passed, she'd been left with only the acute awareness of mental and physical changes, especially within the intimate female of her young, awakened body. Constantly, she relived every vivid moment of his fierce ravishment, and the uncontrollable manner in which she had finally given herself to him in wild, abandoned passion!

More than just the natural secrets of life had flowered open to her that unbelievable night, the chestnut-haired young teenager realized. The bursting, impalement of his huge, hard animal-penis slithering up into the virginal core of her naked young loins had kindled a ravenous, burning hunger and left it smoldering there in her craving belly, ending her adolescent stage forever!

She thought of that now as she sat on the couch with one shapely white leg folded beneath her, staring idly at the TV and sipping on one of her uncle's beers. She would never have cried rape either, she remembered, if Fred Clark hadn't happened along when she was trying to stumble home completely naked. God, what else could she say but the truth? Again, she drank lightly from the bottle and smiled to herself, thinking of the way the old geezer had lecherously gaped at her, then tried to put his arms around her and fondle her young curves as if to comfort her.

Sex, the delicious ingredient that made life worth living for the young and old alike, she mused, delighted with the pleasant feelings filling her. The beer had added to them and Uncle Link didn't mind her snitching one now and then as long as she didn't overdo it, though she couldn't help but wonder how he'd feel about the marijuana joint she had just smoked. He shouldn't really mind that either, seeing that he was Crescent Valley's sole supplier... another fact she'd forced herself to face these past two days.

She keenly surveyed the thinning cloud of sweet-smelling, bluish smoke, her vision seemingly accentuated as she watched it curling outward through the screens of the window and opened front-door. It was a comparatively new experience for her, only the last two days, and simple enough to come by at college. Leo Vincent had hesitated to sell it to her because of Uncle Link, but once she'd resorted to a bit of seductive charm, the pimply-faced character had been ready to do a Sir Walter Raleigh for her. God, just the sight of him nauseated her... but she'd gotten what she wanted, and that was the way of this world, wasn't it?

What was that saying... "A dog eat dog existence?" Appropriate, to say the least, she tittered to herself, stretching out her naked, shapely white legs before her, their small feet raised from the floor with barefooted toes curling back toward her. She felt the tautening muscles and cords in her firm, rounded thighs tingling excitingly in their agitating strain of her loins and smooth little belly. A tiny tremor rippled upward to trace along her spine, suggestively inspiring lustful thoughts and anemones.

God, she thought, if only there was some way she could entice him back once more... at least, once more! The crazy-wild sensations he'd sent screaming through her! And when she'd cum with his great animal cock up inside her pussy... oh wow! Her finger was nothing in comparison! She couldn't help but wonder if a boy, or man could make her cum like that! It was as if she'd exploded inside, she graphically remembered! The very earth had trembled! Was it like that with the man you fell in love with... or any man, at all... ?

She brushed her small hand over the snug, sleeve-like leg of her knitted hot-pants, noting the way they provocatively clung to the outline of her full white thighs and sensuous little hump of her vaginal lips. Even with panties, she heatedly discerned, they clung there, visually emphasizing the puffy crease between her legs. Now, what sharp little male mind could have devised these teasers... or had it been a female... a lesbian perhaps, she thought, intrigued with her own new sensually awakened world? God, how could girls give themselves to other girls when there were boys... men... dogs, such as Caesar?

God, she was hot again! Again... ? Still, was more like it... and there came Uncle Link's car swinging into the driveway... the end of a perfect Saturday morning. Nell was gone, and there was housework to be done. She should fix him some lunch. He must be tired after all night... and his bleached, ex-bed-partner had hightailed it, a move Annie couldn't blame her for after seeing her face.

Oddly enough, she didn't seem to mind the older woman's leaving. In fact, she was pleased that she was gone. Neither of them needed her... not anymore. Before... B.C... before Caesar, Annie mused, smiling to herself at her clever parallel, she'd felt the want of the woman's presence as some sort of fortifying buffer against her uncle's overwhelming maleness. But not any longer. A new and intriguing world had been opened to her... and she was capable of looking after herself now, as well as Uncle Link... !


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Link Morgan partially staggered into the kitchen of his frame-house on Cypress Street shortly after noon. In his gruff mind he was well aware of his drunkeness, as well as the dull, throbbing ache at his heavy loins. Lydia Newell, the young bitch, had done nothing but add to the latter. She was some sort of cock-tease all right, he reflected, jerking open the refrigerator door to search for a beer. He preferred liquor, but knew he didn't have a drop in the house. A stubby brown bottle, capped and cold, caught his eye and he extracted it.

The little cunt... if only she wasn't Newell's daughter! He'd have fucked her for sure... sitting there in her daddy's chair with her legs teasingly spread and no panties... nothing but black-haired young cunt nakedly winking at him! She knew... she knew all right, the little bitch... with her tight young pussy glaring at him... knowing he dare not make that mistake! Christ, his cock felt like a swollen lead-hammer! The little pricktease... but she had an idea, didn't she... and she wanted Mark Blakely's balls... that was something... if they could pull it off... ! The kitchen door swung toward him and his niece, Annie, entered carrying an empty plate and beer-bottle. Link stared at her in the tightly clinging hot-pants, their patterned black brevity revealing the beginning swell of curved white flesh to her smooth young buttocks when she crossed in front of him. His eyes jerked upward to the wispy little halter that was barely containing her firm, full breasts, and she smiled at him, tossing her chestnut-hair back, the movement causing the youthful, ripe mounds to gently ripple.

"Hi, Uncle Link... I saw you drive in," she said, placing the dish and bottle in the sink. "Hope you don't mind my drinking one of your beers?"

"O-One now and then won't hurt you," he said, with thickened tongue.

"Are you hungry? Can I get you some lunch... or breakfast?"