Savage Urges

by Poppy Deveaux

  Letting my defenses down as I had for no man up to that point in my life, not even my husband, I felt the tickle in my ear as sweet, perverse nothings were whispered into it, and I found myself blushing, but not turning away, giggling, like some charmed girl, swept off of my feet, astonished by my fascination with this man. And then, Lord help me, I made the bold, terrible move of letting him take me by the hand, subtly leading me away from the crowd of the square dance, and escorting me up the stairs to his room above the saloon, where I was about to celebrate with the sort of wedding night enthusiasm I had never had the luxury of enjoying with my own absent husband...

  Chapter 2

  I simply couldn't believe myself, could not comprehend my own audacity at going along with this man, this outlaw, after he'd seductively poured a few spoonfuls of sugar onto my tongue and then gone in for the kill so suddenly. I mean, hell, I had never given in to the flirtations of a man so readily, and this man, in particular, was not one that many supposed “good girls” such as myself might have hoped to find themselves tangled up with. This man truly was a snake in the grass, to put it very, very mildly...

  Billy the Boy, as stated, was an outlaw, a fact which could be readily discerned by the fact of his walking around in all black, but often he reared his beautiful, criminal head without fear of consequence in various towns across the west, because frankly the people were so damn afraid of him that they didn't dare try to turn him in to law enforcement officials. I had no idea how extensive his list of offenses were, precisely, but I was quite certain that murder was one of the many among them, and that, in itself, should have been enough to keep me beyond a fifty mile radius of this absolute maniac.

  But I don't know what it must have been in the air that night, other than, you know, cattle shit and such because the two of us met in a barn, but I'm reasonably certain that that wasn't it... But something, one thing or another, perhaps my immense feeling of misery and my desperate need to find some slight boon to my mood, had led to me flinging myself into this horrible, wonderful man's arms, at last lowering my many defenses for him of all people, and allowing myself to be ravished by him, touched in the most intimate of ways by this very, very bad man, an act which was currently unfolding atop the ruffled surface of his bedspread.

  Unlike my husband, Billy the Boy (who was in his twenties, mind you, the “Boy” thing was just some goofy outlaw name,) had no reservations about getting absolutely buck naked for the sheer, splendid act of sexual intercourse. I peeled out of his shirt like a snake sheds its skin almost the instant the door was closed behind the two of us, revealing to me his stunning pectoral muscles, the crippling rungs of his six-pack abdominals, and the deeply chiseled V-lines of his hypnotic Adonis muscles...

  He pulled me into him them, and plied me so viciously with kisses that I thought I would fucking suffocate from them, and not the sort of sexless, platonic kisses that my husband planted on me once every week or so, either. These were goddamn, motherfucking tongue kisses the son-of-a-bitch was smothering me with, absolutely brutal little things, gouging his tongue so far back toward my windpipe that it caused me to gag on him, and for some time I found myself paralyzed by him, victim to his love as he practically knocked my head from its shoulders, my lips unresponsive as he seemed to attempt to crawl directly into my open mouth and unbirth himself back into the female anatomy.

  But then, at last, I managed to get a hold of myself, and returned the splendid efforts of his love, pushing my face back toward his with as much opposing force as I could muster, allowing my warm, wet tongue to wrestle with his own inside our mouths, saliva crackling from mouth to mouth and back again, sticking to our lips and banding out every time we pulled ourselves apart, his warm breath melting me to my fucking core, and the need for escalation, to see what other almighty splendors might yet lay in store for me, positively making my head spin. If the man could get my damn pussy as wet as the town spigot just by the force of his ungodly kisses, then I could only imagine what he would do using the rest of his and my anatomy.

  Things got awfully damn gropy awfully damn fast from then on out, and aside from the actual act of penetration itself, I could tell that he and I had already progressed leaps and bounds past the levels of intimacy ever engaged in by my husband and I in our marital bed. His fingers reached over so greedily for my fully clothed body that I was largely astonished by the fact for a moment, my instinct to find such abrupt intimacy rather untoward, but then my sense catching up with me, and the swaying of his palms across my anatomy transforming into a fact that was utterly pleasurable for me.

  He began to squeeze on my tits through the fabric of my blouse, something I can guarantee you that Wayne had never before done, the sensations wholly alien to me aside from the scant opportunities I had had to touch myself in my vanity mirror. I don't mind telling you he worked up quite the storm in my bosom before at last pulling away, filling me up with such an agonizing craving for him that I thought I just might not survive through the entire remainder of the night, my tits feeling as though they were on fire as his fingers clamped into him like vices, causing me to moan at the top of my lungs, and begin to sweat like a fucking pig on behalf of his efforts.

  The perspiration problem, then, was promptly given a solution, as he proceeded to absolutely tear me the hell out of my clothes, shredding them from my form with abandon, and causing me to fill suddenly quite anxious about all this, given that, after all, I had never actually had my naked body exposed in the presence of a male human being- Wayne, remember, only ever fucked me with my skirts pulled up around my waist and my panties around my ankles, and by comparison to that this total denuding was beginning to feel like absolutely sinful exhibitionism.

  And Lord, how I loved every minute of it...

  With some considerable effort, he managed to pull me completely out of my dress, and by this point had me all the way down to nothing but my panties, which, for the time being, he graciously left in place upon my body, his eyes, meanwhile, fixated as they were on the heaving pink pupils of my sharp, luscious nipples. He put his hands on my stomach and caused me to cringe, pulling me into him so that the mattress creaked beneath our bodies, and immediately latching onto my tits with a redoubled measure of fury, letting his lips melt onto me with absolute lust, suckling on my nipples as a newborn babe nurses on its mother for nourishment. I let out an agonized moan of pleasure, tilting my head back, closing my eyes, and soaking up the sin, letting the sweet perversity pump through my body like a drug as he nibbled on my flesh, working up the skin of my nip very lightly with his teeth, filling me up so thoroughly with desire that I honestly thought my aroused pussy fluids would begin to seep through my panties and leave a stain on the rented bed.

  After some time of this sweet, sweet cruelty, Billy pulled away from me, licking his lips as though to clear his mouth of my glorious nectars, and then reaching down to the fly of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them, and peeling them off in one fell swoop.

  My jaw nearly bounced off the surface of the bed and landed squarely in the center of the floor...

  I had thought that my husband was quite the well-endowed specimen, even if he didn't seem to know how to use what God had given him properly, and even though I didn't really have any standard of measurement for this sort of thing, but he wasn't piddly shit compared to the almighty heat that Billy Boy was packing. This pecker... It looked more as though it had been soldered form the body of a horse onto the pelvis of a man than it appeared to be any sort of genuinely human pecker. It lacked, perhaps, an inch or two of the girth of my husband's, but he amply made up for it in his astonishing length, his blade so crippling that I nearly collapsed at the sight of it, my body weak, and my head spinning as he pulled it by the hair up in the direction of his pelvis.

  I had never before had the pleasure of performing oral sex on a man, given that my husband was an absolute prude in a bedroom, and I struggled, initially, with even wrapping my lips around Billy's enormous monstrosity. I di
d my damnedest to swallow him as completely as possible, inhaling inch by inch by inch of his raging hard on until I could feel myself beginning to gag on him, his engorged tip knocking against the back of my throat and then the shaft just keeping on coming, until at long, long, long last I felt my lips press down against the tangled black fuzz of his pubic hair, and I slowly began to pull back in the reverse direction, building up a fierce suction as I slid along his veiny, throbbing immensity, and snapping open my lips as I arrived once more at his head, thinking intuitively, somehow, that this was the proper way of delivering the maximum amount of pleasure in a single, seductive movement.

  I'm sure that the ensuing blowjob was far from professional, although I'm also certain that if he'd wanted professional he could have damn well sauntered down to the bar below us and hired himself some more experienced company for the evening, perhaps even two or three girls at that. But what he wanted, I was quite convinced, was a seemingly innocent girl, and in that regard I certainly fell far from disappointing, clumsily stroking and regurgitating him with my tongue, choking on my own fluids as they dribbled down my throat, making all sorts of amateur mistakes that I'm fairly certain only served to further arouse him, heavier and heavier as his breathing was becoming with the steady progression of my efforts.

  He didn't cum in my mouth, thank the Lord, or else I might really have made a fool of myself in my panic, but by the time he pulled out of me with long strands of fluids banding from his cock I was hacking my goddamn lungs out, struggling to breathe, and so fucking turned on by what I had done that I thought I just might arrive at climax without even having to engage in vaginal contact.

  I gasped, quite suddenly, as I felt his hands lift me brusquely up, flipping me over, and positioning my body onto its hands and knees, the posture of a fucking dog, mind you, my ass thrusted out toward him and my tits hanging loosely from my chest like two fleshy pendulums. This was it, I thought, as he slid his palms into the fabric of my panties and carefully dragged them down along my thighs. For so long I had so desperately craved for a man to genuinely take me, to brutally fuck me like an animal and make me cringe beneath his efforts, and now, Lord God forgive me, here it was, here was the long-awaited obliteration of my innocence, a penetration far more effective than any I had ever experienced in the arms of my husband.

  And then my eyes went wide-

  This seemed unfamiliar...

  And suddenly I was shrieking in agony, my fingers clutching the bedspread for dear fucking life, and yet, in spite of the sheer pain of what was happening to me back there, I was finding myself considerably turned on by it the further he progressed, the pain giving way to pleasure, and my body shaking by the time he'd buried his fat cock all the way inside.

  His tip had penetrated into the tightly closed opening of my sphincter, and then come sliding like a blade into the tight, hot sheath of my rectum, cramming so tightly into my anus that I thought I might fucking implode, and the cheeks of my ass seriously quivering by this sublime, painful point in the proceedings.

  Sodomy, eh? I could go with that...

  He reared back, and then plunged back deep, deep into me, tearing immediately into a frenetic, angry rhythm, slamming into my anus and pounding that pink thing so hard that I began to see stars, his speed gradually increasing, and his testicles flopping like mad into my body, the percussive sound of skin slapping against skin like sweet, beautiful music in my ringing ears, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP, KLAP!, and streams of profanity ringing forth from my throat like water, “Oh God, oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

  That vicious outlaw absolutely brutalized my anus, continuing to stutter like this for several cruel minutes, the limits of his endurance and stamina seemingly boundless, until after what had seemed like a lifetime he smashed himself deep up into me, and held himself stiffly in place, pouring his sweet white cream into my quivering anus in such thickness and abundance that it came flooding back out of my body, and I began to tremble like some beat dog from head to toe with a sensation that was quite unprecedented, that of sweet, sweet anal orgasm, a phenomenon I had never before fathomed to have existed, to be quite honest.

  Finally, after every last throb of his cock had been exhausted, he pulled out of me, and I let out a tremendous gasp of relief, both from the pleasure and the pain. I was shocked, then, when almost immediately his hands were upon me once again, flipping me over onto my back, and pushing part my thighs, his body quite evidently immune to refractory periods, and ready to go again instantly upon splooging his thick white sperm up my rectum.

  Almost violently, he seized hold of my ankles and thrusted them all the way up to around my ears, spreading me out so wide that he could reasonably have crawled into my body at that point, then mounting me, sliding his sperm-soaked cock into my pussy like a blade, and touching down deep inside me, my body still ringing from his previous back door efforts, and my constitution perhaps unsuited to surviving another vicious orgasm this quickly after the first.

  But he fucked my lights out once again regardless of the fact, several times, to be precise, the two of us screaming and creaming and sweating the sheets throughout the entire course of the night, the fact eluding me that, much to my future consternation, I had forgotten to take my snake oil birth control before coming up here to his room with him...

  Chapter 3

  The weeks rolled slowly by and things returned, more or less, to some semblance of normalcy. I did my damnedest to put old Billy the Boy as far away from my thoughts as possible, although admittedly it was far from easy whenever I woke up in the middle of the night screaming, soaked in a cold sweat after having the female equivalent of a wet dream over the many perverse things the two of us had done to one another. And whenever I would look at my husband, smiling dumbly at me as was his way, blissfully unaware of what I'd done in his absence, and the guilt would well up inside me like a virus.

  And when there was a strong possibility that I happened to have Billy the Boy's little bun in the oven...

  That's right... I was, predictably enough, knocked up...

  Now, there was no way for me to tell for certain whether it was, in fact, Billy the Boy's ambitious little sperm that had successfully taken residence of my womb, given the fact that Wayne and I had been passionlessly intimate the night before his leaving for the dusty trail, him, I think, dumbly hoping that he might get lucky and plant his seed in me to find it growing upon his return, and indeed, the moment I told him I was pregnant his face had lit up like the sun itself, as he spouted all sorts of babbling nonsense about the Lord having blessed my uterus and yadda yadda yadda... Yet on the same token, it seemed a statistically far greater likelihood that the guilty penis had in fact belonged to Billy the Boy, given that the night the two of us had made love, he'd poked that thing into me so many times I'd lost track by the end, and filled me up with so much of his thick, creamy sperm that I'm surprised I didn't just stick to the bed when I tried to lift myself up off from it the next morning. I'd attempted, in the ensuing weeks, so many times to calculate the exact number of days between the instances of intercourse and the realization of my missed period, but the dates were just so damn close together, and my period had always been a bit on the irregular side, so that it was virtually impossible to tell for sure which of the men's little wrigglers had been the one to make its mark upon my uterus.

  At any rate, I was now swollen so round that I looked like I'd swallowed a fucking pumpkin, my pregnant belly so fiercely overlapping my lower extremities that I could probably have walked outside without a skirt on and people would likely be unable to see the faintest trace of my pussy past the thing.

  I was, quite simply, knocked up, and regardless of who the father happened to be, I was having all sorts of doubts about the concept of being a mother. I'd gotten so damn panicky, so certain that somehow something bad was going to happen that I'd confided in my best friend Mary about my affair with Billy the Boy, which I should have known, even then, was a bad idea, Mary hav
ing a well-earned reputation as the town gossip as she did, but I'm certain my judgment was far too clouded by fear and uncertainty at the time to be functioning on a wholly rational level. I just felt the need to confide in somebody about the sins I'd committed, and although I know now that Mary had been the wrong someone, and though I should have known then, it did, for the time being unburden some small measure of the load from my swollen, milk-engorged chest. She comforted me and said she understood, given what I'd told her about my husband's Puritanical ideas about sex, and she said she felt no judgment toward me, that it had been my decision and that now I just needed to do the best I could without having that shit hanging over me for the rest of my life.

  Well, apparently upon passing this information to Mary, it was not at all long before the news began to travel amongst the lips of the townspeople, the source of the news quite obviously Mary herself, and its eventual destination the very piqued ears of Billy the Boy himself.

  Billy the Boy, despite harboring an incredible number of generally shameful attributes, somehow managed, nonetheless, to be something of a proud man, and the notion of some other man, a law enforcement agent, no less, raising what he believed to be his own gestating flesh and blood as his own- well, that was just not about to fucking fly with Billy the Boy...

  That man flew back into town on his black horse with his black hat and his black cowboy boots like a bat into hell, if that makes any sense whatsoever as an expression, and stampeded on a collision course with my unsuspecting husband, who was in the sheriff's office at the time, thinking it to be an unusually slow and, dare he say, uneventful day...

  I was at home, meanwhile, taking a nap like I tended to do almost constantly at this swollen stage of pregnancy, when suddenly Mary the rumor mill came bursting into my house, startling me awake so abruptly that I pissed myself (as a pregnant woman, I pissed myself all the time, so this, in itself, was no big deal when you got right down to it.)