Blood Wild - Sex Stories

Blood Wild

... own tears were streaming down her face and running into Duke’s hair.

“Baby… I’m so… so…” Duke began, but was shut down by his diminutive wife.

“Shh… Shh… Shh… Don’t speak… I know… I know… Shh…” Caroline cooed.

“I… I love you babe. I’ve always loved you…” He managed to get out before she quieted him again.

“Shh…” She said as Duke wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her fiercely.

They remained standing there in that embrace for a few more minutes before Caroline pulled back and took Duke’s hand in hers and drew him up the stairs to lead him into the house. The door was closed, and the kitchen light soon was turned off. The old house grew quiet as the four souls inside it lay down to sleep.

***___***___

Cam opened the back door of the cruiser and shook Walter’s shoulder to rouse him from sleep. They hadn’t been on the road from the Shanty to the sheriff’s office five minutes before Walt had either passed out or simply fell asleep. Cam curled his nose and turned his head as he got a good whiff of the reeking odor coming off of Walter’s body.

“Wh… Huh?” Walter grunted, slowly opening his bleary eyes.

“We’re here, at the Sheriff’s station Walt. I need you to climb out of the car and turn around, okay?” Cam instructed Walt in a friendly voice.

“T… turn around?” Walt asked even as he did so.

“Yeah, procedures. I need to put my cuffs on you till we get you inside. I’m sorry, but that’s the rules, Walt.” Cam explained as he clipped on his ...

... handcuffs, maybe a little more loosely than was regulation.

“Now, I don’t think the sheriff is in just yet, so why don’t we get you cleaned up and fed and find you a place to lay down and sleep for a bit?”

“Oh, okay… that sounds good. Can… Can I maybe call home… to talk to Vivian?” Walter asked apprehensively.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, Walt. But we might ought to wait till morning. Wouldn’t want to wake anyone up in the middle of the night, would we?” Cam assured Walt and opened the door to the station for him.

Looking up from her little oasis of light coming from her banker’s style desk lamp, Old Betty leaned back, taking the dangling cigarette from her mouth and blowing out a cloud of smoke. With the same hand she flicked a finger on the stems of her pushed up glasses so that they fell into place on the bridge of her nose. The lenses flaring and reflecting the light from the lamp.

“Well, what in the hell do we have here?” Betty asked in that gravelly voice of a heavy smoker.

As they neared the desk to sign in, Betty recognized Walt, and her weathered heavily made-up face drew into a smirk that might have scared most men. She replaced the cigarette to her lips and took the log book with both hands and spun it around so that it was facing Cam.

“Walter? Walter Wainwright? Is that you?” Betty asked, in a condescending tone, as if teasing him.

Walter looked more embarrassed than frightened though. One of the things about small towns is that most folks ...