Beastiality

The dog got up and walked off the porch. Jeannie saw Stumpy coming from around the barn. Buck trotted toward him, and Stumpy halted and chuckled. “Where you been, fella? Been looking for you for two days. Thought the chickens got you.” He chuckled again and said to Jeannie, ” He took off a couple of days ago, ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Thought he’d done flew the coop.”

“He’s okay,” Jeannie said. “He’s been here for the past two days.”

Stumpy let out a rasping snort. “Guess he was taking a vacation. Is that it, boy, you wanted a change of scenery.” He ruffled Buck’s head and the dog reared up, placing its paws on his chest.

Jeannie smiled at the sight. Buck looked to be on an even keel with Stumpy. Actually, the dog looked bigger than the man.

Stumpy was in his late fifties, short and compact, wizened and gnarled-looking–hence the name Stumpy. He was grizzled and quite ugly.

Jeannie watched as Buck and Stumpy walked away. She felt no concern. She knew the dog would be back.

The sky had grayed; big billowy clouds had rolled in; a sharp breeze had come swirling in. There was no doubt about it, a major storm was coming. Jeannie commenced preparing for it, which mainly meant going out and leading some animals to shelter. Most of the livestock on the farm-ranch would be taken care of by Stumpy and his crew, but there were some domestic animals Jeannie kept that were her responsibility to take care of.

She proceeded to lead them to shelter. She checked the sky. The thunderheads had piled up; they were dark gray and massive. When the storm did hit, it would be a humdinger, but she estimated it would be a little while before it hit. She had enough time. One by one she led the domestic animals to shelter, till there was only one left to get.

She found the goat grazing in its customary favorite place, near a group of apple trees. She slipped a rope around its neck and tugged. “Come on, Lucifer, there’s a storm coming.” The goat followed her willingly enough, until it halted suddenly and relieved itself. Jeannie waited as it took a long piss. Her eyes were drawn to its underbelly. The goat’s balls hung down, bloated and heavy; its prick was extensive, full and meaty. A warm fizzy feeling ran up Jeannie’s tummy; her heart thumped and a lump formed in her throat.

Damn, but you’re hung, Lucifer, she thought. She led the goat to the barn, the idea of what she was going to do already forming in her mind. By the time she entered the barn, she was breathing hard, her heart almost thudding, and hot flashes were shooting up and down her body.

She pulled a small bale of hay to the goat and then undressed, spreading her jeans and shirt onto the bale. She knelt beside the goat and reached down and palmed its balls, gently caressing them. The goat twitched and frisked. She moved her hand forward from its balls and slowly slid her palm on its prick. The goat chuffed and stamped its hooves. She stroked its cock, marveling at the size and feel of it.

I think you’re ready, she thought.

She lay back on the bale of hay, raised her legs and drew them back, scooted her rump down and reached out for the goat. She clasped its horns and tugged it toward her. The goat suddenly raised its front legs and clambered forward, landing on her. She gasped and groaned at the suddeness of its move and its weight. Before she could catch her breath, the goat was pushing its loins forward, thrusting its dick upon her. Read the rest of this entry »