Blood Wild - Sex Stories

Blood Wild

... have to drink so much Trina wondered for the thousandth time. Someone always got angry when there was gambling involved. Poker, or Gin Rummy, or any other game they played when they got together. Someone always flirted too much or said things to anger someone else. Tonight, or last night, was no different. What was different was that someone got shot! Trina’s mom!

“Momma?” Trina asked again, trying to get her mother to look at her. She was so worried.

“Why…” Trina began to ask but she was cut off by her mother’s words.

“I… I don’t want to talk about it right now… Please baby, just let it be for now.” Vivian Wainwright pleaded softly with her daughter. The shame and sorrow leaking into her voice with every word.

Vivian’s wound was more embarrassing than life threatening. A bullet wound to her left butt cheek. The meaty rump had stopped the small caliber .22 bullet. For a gunshot wound it was a pretty clean wound. That’s not to say it wasn’t going to hurt when the pain medications they had injected her with wore off. The sutures they had closed the wound with would be a pain in the… well… butt, till it healed and they could come out.

Allowing her mom to remain silent and not demanding to know what happened, Trina took her mother’s hand and squeezed it briefly before having a seat in the chair beside the bed. Vivian just continued to frown and her eyes remained closed. Trina leaned her own head on her arm that was resting on the side of the bed as she continued ...

... holding her mother’s hand. Tears once more filled her eyes as she squeezed them shut trying to block out what she did know of the night that brought them to this place.

***___***___

Sheriff Potter’s patrol car slowed to a stop before turning into the gravel driveway leading up to Hank Lipscomb’s doublewide trailer. The car’s tires crunching the gravel as he eased to a stop outside the trailer. The once nice exterior had been let go for so long that it looked twenty years older than it really was. The add-on wooden deck porch sagged on the end opposite the steps leading up to it. Sheriff Potter shook his head in tired resignation as he stubbed out the cigarette that he had been smoking. He then turned off the car and grabbed his hat before opening the door and getting out.

An old tired looking hound dog raised his head off his front paws and looked at the Sheriff with bloodshot eyes nearly as tired looking as the Sheriff’s. The dog halfheartedly thumped his tail on the deck as he wagged it while yawning once. The tired old fella had seen the Sherriff many times before and didn’t make a sound as he mounted the three steps from the drive up to the porch. Sheriff Potter bent over and reached down to scratch the old hound behind the ears for a moment. The dog took a deep breath and grunted a couple of times as if in thanks then laid his head back down and seemingly went right back to sleep.

Gerald stood back up and shook his head sadly yet again before taking two more ...