But before she did, she managed to stay with him long enough to strike white gold herself. In the throes of her orgasmic pleasure, she now went at him frantically, and he felt himself pass the point of no return. He felt a surge of pleasure issue forth that he hadn’t felt in almost ten years. The feeling was so intense it was almost too much for him to take. His head came up off his pillow as he found himself completely unprepared for the tidal wave of ecstasy that would now swamp them. Before he even realized what was happening, a guttural groan surged forth from his lips, building into a louder bellow of pleasure and triumph, as a geyser erupted into her eager mouth. She never hesitated, gleefully taking as much in as she could, and allowing the rest to naughtily dribble out the corners. He was shocked at how much he had unleashed. He’d thought the days of quantity over quality had long since passed. What had she done to him?
Drained from the intensity, his head fell back onto the pillow. She could only lie motionless, draped atop him like a sweaty, furry quilt, her body now as limp as a soggy noodle. The only movement between the two for several minutes was his left hand softly stroking the small of her back, while her tail swished contentedly.
“Damn!” he said when he finally got his breath back. He gave a big yawn. “That was awesome, sweetie!”
She raised her head from his left thigh, turned and looked back at him. There were still remnants of his semen around her lips as she smiled slyly at him. Her hand began to move down his belly, and suddenly, with horror, he realized where it was headed.
Oh shit! She wants more! After that mega-gasm, there was no way that was happening, at least not in the next hour or so. Already, drowsiness, the man’s after-sex curse, was overtaking him. Encore performances had never been his strong suit, even in his younger days. He sure as hell wasn’t a spring chicken now.
He felt a wave of panic, as she grasped his now flaccid member and began trying to stroke it back to hard. What to do? As sexy as this little vixen was, she’d just gotten the best of him … far better than he could’ve ever anticipated.
She worked with him for several minutes, trying several different things to try to arouse him again. She used her fingers, mouth, claws, whatever she thought might work. For his part, he tried his best to help, but the best he could do was a pathetic, half-mast excuse. Finally, she turned back to him, a bewildered, disappointed look in her big eyes. He was so embarrassed he wanted to pull the covers over his head. He wondered if her former lover had that much more vitality than him. If so, he damned sure wasn’t a loser in his book.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” He met her frustrated eyes with sheepish embarrassment. “It’s just that it was a very strong one … just took a lot out of me.”
He didn’t know if she understood his words or not, but she smiled back. It appeared she’d at least gotten the gist of the matter. Either that or she was just a dumb animal and smiled a lot. Who knew? She might be dumb but that sure as hell didn’t make her stupid.
He still felt awkward. His masculine pride somewhat bruised, he still felt the unwarranted need to continue. “Gimme a few minutes rest and I’ll be good to go … I promise.” He motioned for her to turn around and join him back up at the head of the bed. In a flash, she jumped up and spun around in midair. She was suddenly facing him now, on all fours with her tail happily swishing the air above her. He patted the mattress beside him, beckoning her to lay down, and opened up his arm for her to settle comfortably into the crook of it. She felt unbelievably cozy and cuddly lying against him as if her body was molded to fit perfectly into his embrace. She put her hand on his chest, just as she had before and within a minute both were sound asleep.
***
“What you got for me?” The man from Georgia stood on the running board of the blacked-out amphibious aerocraft floating lazily on the Tennessee River about thirty yards offshore from the Blackwater Bar. An implant in his right ear buzzed with information as his men processed the scene where the vixen had disappeared the night before.
“The local ZiPs weren’t very cooperative. But I was able to hack into their system and access a copy of the report that was filed,” a voice reported. “It seems the men involved in releasing the “package” are a local clan of small-time criminals. I got addresses on all three. It looks like they all live within a hundred yards of each other.”
“Typical for a backwoods bunch of inbreds,” the man replied as he watched a couple of his men work the scene around the bar. “We’re not finding too much cooperation here. But then again, this is the South and this is an establishment known for … how to put it … questionable clientele. Folks don’t talk to strangers.”
“You want us to pay the Clampetts a visit?”
“I think we need to. Obviously, they know the most about what happened. Finish up and get your team ready to roll. Rapid deployment status. I wanna be Oscar Mike in ten.”
“Roger that.”
Forrest Frost, the man most knew only as The Georgian, put his PDC away and tapped on
