Blood Wild - Sex Stories

Blood Wild

... to herself remembering that as tempting as Deeny might be, she was still very young and Yvonne shouldn’t rush anything with her. Past experience taught her that while most girls liked the flirting, taking it farther could be disastrous if rushed.

Deeny was sweet, but she was also smart as a whip and that was what attracted Yvonne in the first place. Patience, she told herself, patience. Yvonne could tell that Deeny had been hurt before, and might not be completely past that yet. She’d get the story out of the girl eventually… patience.

***___***___

Cam parked his old cruiser in the only remaining parking space outside of the county Sheriff’s office. Being the rookie of the department, he got all the leftovers as far as equipment and of course all the shit jobs to go with it all. Like this morning… well… last night running into this morning. He got a call at home off shift to come in and help out with this case.

He was sent around to several persons of interest to question their whereabouts and movements after a particular gathering ended up with a shooting. So far, Cam hadn’t really learned much worth mentioning but after stopping at the diner, he now had something to think about. It might be of interest to the Sheriff.

Old Betty, the eldest deputy Sheriff on the county payroll and long-time desk clerk or closest thing to a dispatcher that the department had, peered over her paperback romance novel. Her lit cigarette with half being just ash, dangled from the ...

... corner of her mouth. Those rummy glazed eyes followed Cam as he came through the door.

“The pup found his way back to the den huh?” Betty croaked with her heavy smoker gravelly voice.

“Now Betty, we’ve been over this. I’m not a pup.” Cam grumbled as he walked past her desk on his way to the Sheriff’s office down the hall.

“Sure, you are, pup. You look like you could use a nap too.” Betty added as she went back to reading her book.

“I won’t argue that point.” Cam said as he tried to stifle a yawn just before he knocked on the Sheriff’s office door.

“Come!” The Sheriff’s voice barked on the other side of the door.

Cam opened the door and entered the office. Sheriff Gerald Potter was the name painted on the glass of the door and on the little name plate sitting on the front of the desk. The desk what was piled high with loose pages of reports and files almost as high as the butts in the ashtray sitting on top of some of them. The Sheriff was resting his mostly bald head on his left hand that still loosely held a burning cigarette. His elbow propped up on another stack of file folders on his desk.

The Sheriff looked as worn out and tired as Cam felt, he thought to himself. Quietly standing at rest before the desk as the Sheriff continued to write on a report form that held his attention. Finally, the Sheriff finished whatever he was writing and dropped the pen on the desk top. He brought both hands to his face and rubbed his tired eyes before dragging them ...