The Dunwich Romance by Edward Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

her head, admitting to the distraction of how glad she was to see him. “‘Tis funny. Tired as I was, the minute yew left, I couldn’t sleep a wink so’s I just kind’a walked abaout, lookin’ raound yer land. Hope ya dun’t mind.”
    “Not one bit,” Wilbur said, but he seemed distracted as well, distracted by her simple presence. His eyes persisted on her: each time he was about to speak, he stalled. “I...uh. Aw, durn, Sary...”
    “What?”
    “I’se jess real happy yew stayed. Whole time I was aout, I thought sure ye’d be gone time I got back...”
    She grinned at the absurd remark. “Wilbur, I wouldn’t just up’n leave withaout sayin’ goodbye.”
    The huge man shuffled awkwardly in his big boots. “I know the way I look put gals off—”
    “The way yew look’s just fine ta me, so’s I carn’t think’a what yew mean,” she tried to allay his faltering esteem. Yes, Wilbur’s physical aspect diverged a great deal from that of other men, but Sary only found this trait unique and interesting, not repugnant. She thought, The way my face look, no ear, all scarred’n pocked, nose mashed up by my pa? It be a blessin’ from Gawd Wilbur even turn a glance at me. Through the self-analysis, however, she realized that not only was she comfortable with Wilbur’s appearance, she felt progressively more attracted to him, this latter fact being betrayed then and there as she felt her nipples tingle and begin to stand up beneath the sheer cover of the dress.
    I wonder if he notice that... However, these ruminations, though they expended only moments, left an uncomfortable silence, so she carried on her perky reply, “Yew been nicer ta me than...wal, anyone I can ever ‘member meetin’, and I’d never be rude so ta jess leave withaout me sayin’ so fust. Naow, let me help ya git them critters skinned and gutted. No reason yew should do all this work withaout me liftin’ a finger ta help.”
    Wilbur’s colossal physique went from tense to lax. “Nup. ‘Tis my job, and I’ll have in done in a jiff. Why not ye jess wait fer me in the tool-haouse, take a rest?”
    “Okay.”
    Upon the instant of returning to the shed—and with no conscious mandate whatever—Sary’s hands slipped up the inside of her gown to further caress her sex. Even this long after her eruptive orgasm, the exotic pleasure lingered; she even felt as though she could masturbate again. Jess sumpin’ ‘baout Wilbur got me hotter’n the top of a Dutch oven... , but only then did she catch herself, and expeditiously withdrew her hands. What might Wilbur conclude were he to walk in suddenly?
    Several minutes later, he indeed returned, ducking below the door’s transom.
    “That’s shore a fast skinnin’ and guttin’ job,” Sary observed. Just looking at him, however, had her painstakingly sidetracked. Why this misproportioned giant kindled her so lickerishly, she could not appraise, but she recognized this: If thar ever be a man I’d want to lay me right daown and fuck me, why...it’d be him .
    “Been dressin’ critters so long, I kin dew it in my sleep,” Wilbur’s voice wavered in its bizarre depth. “Say”—he stepped forward—“I bet’cher ear don’t hurt naow, huh?”
    The question sparked in Sary’s head, as she realized his assertion was true. “Yew was right, Wilbur. I don’t got no pain a’tall no more.”
    His huge hands rested on her shoulders, urging her toward the cot. At first, Sary’s loins made a steamy, spontaneous clench; her crudest impulses hoped he meant to immediately prostrate her on the cot and have her, just as per her fantasy—
    “Set ye daown right here,” he said instead, gesturing the cot. “Gonna check it.”
    When seated, Sary was surprised by the daintiness with which Wilbur’s enormous hands removed the poultice he’d previously applied. “Thar,” he remarked in a manner that seemed proud. “All healed up, jess like I say.”
    Sary felt her remaining ear and easily