J. Bradley - The hog wives

"Work onto it, Grace," he told her. "Slide that slick cunny right over it and swallow it up inside you."

She was glad he had let her work up a slippery lather; even with all the lubrication, she felt the hugeness of him as he expanded her tunnel alarmingly. The fullness reached further and further inside her, until he had no more meat to stuff in her cunt.

"My God!" she said in a careful voice. "If you hadn't run out of cock when you did, my mouth would be too full to talk!"

"It's not as big as you think it is," he assured her. "Let it soak in there for a minute until you get used to it."

He leaned over and sucked on one of her nipples, and she began to get back some of the excited thrills that had been frightened out of her by the monster cock.

He knew how to treat a tit, and by the time he had worked over both of them, she was humming happily with the return of her passion. When he started fucking her slowly, she was surprised to find that there was no real discomfort; her cunt had adapted in no time at all. The thick prick slid smoothly within her sheath, massaging every nerve, including some she had not known she had. Harlan's fingers had slithered around behind her and were teasing the crack of her ass. New tingles raced up her spine and spread out to join the others rippling through her belly.

She felt herself creaming heavily, as if the big cock had rubbed the glands of her tunnel, milking them of their secretions. The splat of Harlan's balls against her crotch sounded more wet than at the beginning. And she was unconsciously pumping her ass to meet his thrusts; now her cunt was more than eager to receive the oversize prick!

Her asshole winked steadily as tiny spasms trembled inside her, and at each wink, Harlan gently probed into the soft wrinkles with his finger.

He pulled her to him with his free hand and kissed her; she accepted the thrust of his tongue, sucking on it hungrily in symbolic need for the continued thrust of his giant prick. Her tongue lanced out frantically, wanting the sucks he could give it, eager to be the object of his desire.

His strokes speeded up and became shorter; each tight fuck was a delirious broadcast of thrills as her tunnel came alive to the forceful caress of his moving cock.

"Harlan!" she cried. "Oh Jesus! I'm falling apart inside!" And, as she began to quiver and jerk, he knew she was coming off like a cow elephant.

He plunged into her as far as he could go, then held her there while he rammed his finger up her ass. She squealed at the double stuffing, then she felt his hot gushes shoot into her cunt with alarming power.

Grace literally danced on the pole of his cock, her ass making wild leaps on his lap. Her cunt seized his prick in tight clutches, milking him of his sperm, as both of them grunted and gasped with the voluptuous release.

"I'm afraid to let you take it out of me," she told him when she caught her breath.

"You think there might be blood?;' he teased.

"No, but it's like tight shoes, or when you have a swollen foot. You're afraid to take it off, because you might not be able to get it back on."

"You mean you'd like to have some more? You're over your fear of the monster?"

"I guess that's what I mean. Still…"

"Yes. What were you going to say? Second thoughts?"

"In a way. I was wondering what it would be like to have a mouthful of that goodie."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll be happy to help you find out."

Grace slowly climbed off him, hearing and feeling the suction of their separation. When she looked down at the limber cylinder of his prick, smeared with the fluids of their joy, she wet her lips and swallowed hard.

Lying on the bed, while waiting for Harlan to give her the word, Grace grew more eager by the minute. The challenge of successfully sucking off a cock of that size was thrillingly intriguing, and her cunt seemed to itch at the thought of it.

When he was ready for action, Harlan got into the sixty-nine position, kneeling astride her with his face over her cunt. The massive meat of his dong hung down to touch her lips, and she took the smeary glans eagerly, sucking it into her mouth.

As she tasted the funky pollen of his semen mixed with the flavor of her cunt, she felt his tongue probe into her gash and begin to lick at her swollen flesh.

He found her clit and lashed at it rapidly with his tongue; she moaned around the giant glans, then gave it a tight suck that caused him to groan into her cunt.

Grace felt lustful hungers rise up in her – hungers she had not known she possessed. She was avidly sucking the meaty prize, praying that it would erupt and fill her mouth with a river of hot come.

Harlan got her clit in his lips, and he began a steady series of sucks that made her jerk and grind in a frenzy. Her whole being seemed to melt into a puddle, and Harlan was drinking it up. Then she felt the charge of his first gush.

It poured into her mouth in torrents, and she was swallowing frantically to keep from drowning. But when the power of his jets diminished, she began to suck on the hot tip of his prick with a violent thirst, draining him and making him pull away with a loud groan.

Again they lay there, resting quietly, letting their bodies relax. Grace was absorbing her discovery of her hidden lusts.

And, as she related it to her coming ordeal with Randy – a thought uppermost in her mind since seeing Dot with the goat – she knew she could even get hot enough to suck off that big stud! She wondered what Dot would say to that…

Grace had taken a short nap, and she felt fully refreshed after she bathed. But Harlan Gates was still sleeping, as were most of the others in the house, she knew. During the hottest part of the day it was easy to lie around and rest, especially after a night and morning of wild sex revelry.

But Grace felt as if her glands were working overtime. Her pulse was fast, and all the juices of her body seemed to be flowing excitedly. She started walking aimlessly around the barnyard, trying to work off some of her nervous energy. She felt strange, because the farm seemed so still for the middle of the day.

Her steps took her in the direction of the machine shed, and when she opened the door and looked at the vacant billy-girl machine, her breath came faster and she felt the cream oozing from her cunt. She walked up to the padded trestle and looked at the dried semen that had begun to flake on the surface of the padding.

Her hand reached out and rubbed at the whitish deposit, and a shiver rippled through her spine. Her twat began to itch, and she held her hand between her legs, pressing and rubbing herself. The faint odor of the billy goat's musk was in the air, and her nostrils dilated quiveringly as she smelled it.

She forced herself to leave the machine shed, continuing her walk at a leisurely pace while her pulse pounded and the gnawing itch in her crotch steadily increased.

The warm breeze swirled up inside her frock – the only garment she wore – and caressed her legs, rippling the hairs of her cunt until she was ready to scream for relief.

Subconsciously, she had known all along that she would end up at the stud's pen. When she finally stood at the rails, gripping the top one tightly until her knuckles were white, the goat's odor was overpowering to her senses.

Her legs trembled, and if she had let go of her grip on the rail, she would have slumped to the ground. She could hear him at the far side of the pen, rubbing himself against a post, and as she visualized him standing there, his virile goat prick stiff and ready to serve her, she knew she could not wait any longer.

The decision was made, and her strength seemed to flow back into her. She stood up resolutely, took the lead strap from its place on the gate, then entered the pen.