Mark was too deep asleep, dreaming of his afternoon activity with Nancy Pace, to hear his young bride's whimpers of pleasure as she fantasized about him.

"THAT S-S-SON OF A B-BITCH!" roared Clete Anderson, gibbering with jealous anger. He'd been sitting behind the scarred desk in his office, staring idly at the half-empty bourbon-bottle he'd been nursing, while lecherously dreaming of the tightly rounded, naked young ass DesirЋe Denning. The jangling phone had interrupted his lust-whetting thoughts, but the irritation in his voice quickly faded when Priscilla, the fire-breathing daughter of the town's biggest big-wig, bitterly unloaded on him! Goddamn, he couldn't believe it! Nancy and Mark Denning! That little two-timing bitch!

In nothing short of lynx-eyed rage, Priscilla wasted no time in reaching the Pickford's Meadows Police Chief. Nor did she mince words with the barrel-chested official in conveying to him what she thought of his "little whore fiancee"!

"Y-You're sure? I mean…"

"You don't know your own stupidity, do you, Anderson! I don't make mistakes! You ought to know that!" she grated into his ear, causing him to momentarily jerk the receiver away. "I saw when they parked, then left the old quarry, and I tell you true they weren't there looking for rocks! I saw the whole thing, humping, sweating and screaming. But that's neither here nor there! You listening?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, Priscilla! I'm hearing every word!" the swollen-faced police officer replied, his mean eyes vindictively glaring with the thoughts of what he would do to the unfaithful little cunt for this! And Denning, that sonofabitch, he'd hang him by his balls!