The pressure was growing unbearable in his balls. It wasn't far off now! His cock felt like a Roman candle that had been overpacked and its fuse just lit, and suddenly he wondered when it ignited if maybe it wouldn't shoot right through her and come out the back of her head as it soared off into outer space. He rammed his pelvis hard up against her receptive face, working desperately now to relieve the fantastic pressure mounting, expanding, building… and then he felt it!
It began deep in his groin somewhere, the telltale indication that the swirling pool was about to erupt. His balls tingled as if someone had jabbed a needle into them and he felt the scalding stream rush jet-like the distance of his thrusting cock. He roared a guttural sound and clenched his teeth in a conglomeration of pain-pleasure ecstasy.
His brain was suddenly caught in a sensation of suspended animation as his prick began an insane jerking and spewing, filling Tonya's voraciously sucking mouth with great gushes of his seething white sperm, expanding her soft cheeks unbelievably with every pressurized squirt, causing her to swallow and swallow and swallow… or choke… while he listened half-consciously to her mewling and crooning and realized that she too was experiencing her climax.
'Oh Christ, don't stop… don't stop now!' he pleaded. 'Suck it, Baby! Suck it…!'
He wound his hands tighter in her short cropped hair as he rammed his convulsively spurting prick farther and farther down her throat. And never once did she falter, but went on sucking insanely as he continued to shoot his load far into the hungry depths of her mouth.
Then… as if somehow he'd endured the volcanic eruption… he grunted and gasped, finally groaned, while he spilled out the last of his semen between her lips; still, she went on sucking, but more gently now, nibbling simultaneously and drawing every last drop of the vital fluid from him.
He raised to take one last look and watch his lifeless penis grow flaccid in her mouth. Then, he dropped back and relaxed in utter exhaustion. She had lowered her face onto his thigh, but had not yet given up his now lifeless penis from her mouth, only continued to lip and tongue it reverently. Finally, she did, crawling up over him to lean down and kiss him warmly on the mouth and smearing his lips with the remnants of his own orgasm.
'You know,' she said teasingly, 'You were doing so good, too. What happened, Darling?' 'Cyclone,' he muttered.
'Uh hum. And you were going to do that to me?'
'Cannonize you, I think.'
She laughed warmly, cuddling down beside him to rest her head on his arm and raise one leg up over him. 'You have to call Mark Coleman now?'
'Um humm. I've been letting him stew a little,' A.C. replied with closed eyes. 'Better that he thinks these things come hard. I'll call him shortly… tell him we're having dinner together.'
'Which means, we offer and they accept,' Tonya said softly, rubbing her hand in a gentle circle against the hair of his chest. 'Does Dianne know that?'
'I doubt it. She will though, when the time comes.'
For a moment Tonya was silent. Then: 'Do you really want to screw that little bitch awfully bad, Darling?'
A.C. pretended to think about that. At last: 'No… not awfully bad,' he lied. 'But I think it's time she paid her dues… don't you?'
'Um hum… seeing you put it in like that, Darling,' his wife replied softly. 'But then, you always were the Goddamned diplomat. Frankly, I think you ought to be the politician.'
A.C. Faro laughed. 'Jealous?' he questioned. 'Should I be?'
A.C. shrugged and she jumped up over him immediately.
'You dirty old bastard!' she exclaimed. Then, they both laughed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dianne was grateful for the shelves of books that lined Mark's study. She had always been an avid reader. Not that absorbing books could fill the void in her lonesome, love-starved new life, but it did help pass the time, and by reading and glancing through the dusty volumes she felt that somehow she was gaining a closer insight into the mysterious aura surrounding her ruthless, ambitious husband. Perhaps, if she learned everything she could about the family background she would not only better understand him, but might well be able to reach him and make him know that she truly, loved him.
It was a feeble approach to solving her problem, she realized as she sat on the shaded, side-patio with the elegantly bound book in her lap, but at least it gave her the feeling of doing something in that direction.
OLD FAMILIES OF RIO LADO was embossed in gold lettering across the cover of the book. She had first browsed through its entire contents, then gone back to read the Coleman history, gleaning little that pertained to Mark except the mention of his birth. Yet, there was something in the short genealogy that bothered her. Undoubtedly, the book had been published before Mark's parents' accident for no mention was made of that.
Mathew Coleman had been the original member to settle in Rio Lado around the year 1870. The mansion was built some decade later. He'd been Mark's grandfather, thirty years old at the time, but no wife was mentioned as having arrived in the area with him. He had come from a small family of Irish immigrants, it went on, the son of Paddy and Molly Coleman of Dublin, Ireland, had one brother Sean, and two sisters, Mary and Kate. Besides being an attorney, the original Coleman had homesteaded vast parcels of land and had later entered into the feed and grain business. At 37, a son, Timothy was born to Mathew and Catherine Coleman. Three years later, Mathew was elected to the state senate.
The vast holdings had passed on to Timothy at his father's demise, a young man whose interests had been strongly political. Although he had practiced law, he soon disposed of the grain business and devoted most of his time to politics, becoming one of the youngest senators in the history of the state. Timothy was thirty-six when he married Helen Freemont of Sacramento, and their only son, Mark, was born in 1935.
There was more, but of little importance and Dianne had gotten nothing but a cold empty feeling from reading it, as if she had just walked through a damp, ghost-filled mausoleum. She closed the book and looked up to see Mark coming through the doorway, a broad smile lighting his handsome face.
His greeting was an unexpected delight; he walked over to where she sat, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek… the first time ever.
'And how's my girl?' he said warmly.
The move had startled her so that she reached up and touched the spot where his lips had been with her fingertips. Then, she felt her face flush, like a schoolgirl receiving her first kiss.
'Wh-What was that all about?' she heard herself stammer.
'Good heavens, woman,' Mark laughed. 'Can't a man greet his wife with a kiss without explaining his reasons?'
Dianne returned his smile with one of her own. 'Of course,' she replied, looking closer to see if he was drunk. 'Just any old time he wants.'
'Good,' he said. 'And no, I'm not drunk. Had a few but, I've all my wits… just happy, Darling. That's all. Exceptionally happy.'
'Things went well, then…? I mean, you were hoping to solicit support…'
He stepped back and with hands on hips, still smiling, looked off across the well-kept lawns with a certain underlying proudness. 'Yes… I'm quite certain of it. In fact, Darling, I believe I've secured the support… of Judge Julian Reed… If so, it's all a cinch, I'm as good as in office.'
'Oh…?' Dianne said. She knew of Judge Reed and his power from working in Mark's office, but she had never seen him, nor heard anything good about him, only that he wielded massive political weight. He was retired from the bench, a widower somewhere in his late fifties, and a terribly obese man… so the story went. Anyway, she was pleased because Mark was obviously so. 'When will you know, Darling? I mean, for sure…?'
'Any moment, I hope. I'm waiting now for a phone call.'
Dianne stood. 'Can I get you something?'
'Great idea,' he said, moving over beside her and slipping his arm snugly around her slender waist, drawing
