Page 33 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
The werewolf snarled as our bodies clapped together, and I howled, my hand working frantically against my clit, trying to make up for his rude treatment by offering a measure of pleasure. Except the pounding my cunt was receiving waswonderful,my eyes crossing and colors bursting in my vision.And the scratch of the ground through my dress was fantastically awful, like rough bites and scratches from a lover.
"Fuck. Fuck, berry, you good little bitch," the werewolf growled, and my only victory was how winded he sounded.
Not that I was faring much better, wailing and gasping with every clasp of skin and quaking thrust. He hiked me up against his hips, striking harder and deeper, making me wince and sob even as the brutal lash of an orgasm started to whip up my spine. If I'd gotten the magical pussy expansion kit, this wouldn't have hurt. And that would've been such a shame.
"Yes!" I whimpered as he lifted my hips high enough that my knees didn't touch the ground, and tilted just so to grind inside of me.
"Yesss," he agreed in a gutteral warning.
There was dirt down the collar of my dress, jangling and scraping against my breasts, and my scalp ached from the abuse of the bush, and I was fairly certain I'd be feeling the bruises of the werewolf's hips pummeling into my ass for many days to come.
But my body bowed and I choked on a scream as I came, vision flashing white with the force of the storm. The werewolf's howl joined the roar in my mind and his cum was streaks of heat lashing inside of me, bursting over and over until we were both still and quiet aside from the ragged chorus of our breaths.
And then he laughed, a soft chuckle again. I started to twist and a hand clapped on the back of my neck, forcing my face back into the dirt.
"Oh no you don't. Be good and stay right there, berry."
I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled out of me unceremoniously, a hot flood following his exit, rushing from me and into the ground where he left me. My panties were a scrap around one calf, my skirt was up over my back, and my hair was a riot. But I was free.
He'd fucked me right out of the bush and then left me in a little puddle of our making.
I don't know why I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps retreating before I got up again. I ought to have turned around, identified him, and reported him directly to PIIAI agents.
If I had, it wouldn't have happened again.
2. THE CHICKEN COOP
“Ow! You little shits are dinner," I hissed at the prancing chickens who'd come to peck my hands as I scrambled for their eggs.
Heh. Scrambled.
"And your children are breakfast," I added.
I'd opted for a more practical task for the day, having learned my lesson in the briar patch the day before.
Egg collection was safe. I was in the middle of the farm, well within sight and sound of other volunteers. There were chickens roaming around me, without a care in the world.Shitting.
There was nothing provocative about bird shit.
And today I had elected to match my practical task with practical garb. Overalls.
Overalls were perfect for farm work, according to pretty much any farm-related media I'd consumed in the past. And better yet, they were fuck-proof. Nobody, nowerewolf,was getting into these bad boys.
Another sharp stab of a tiny beak into the back of my hands jangled me from my thoughts of dirt on my face and a snarling laugh in my ear.
"Urghhh, I'm raising chickens for meat onmyfarm. You're Sunday dinner," I said, glaring into the beady gaze of a brown speckled hen who was taking her protective duties as a mother a little too seriously.
I pushed at her soft, feathered chest, snatched the egg, and started to wiggle my way out of the small cubby hole I'd had to wedge myself into for collecting.
Except my wiggling didn't make any progress of letting me out – it just shook the coop and startled the four hens who hadn't run when I'd appeared.
"Shit.” My eyes widened, still holding the gaze of the hen who wanted my blood for breakfast. "No. I'm not doing that again."
I threw myself backward, and a chorus of bawks and avian screeches went up around me. From overhead, a small bed of hay shed stalks down into my hair.
"Nooo," I moaned.
The coop door was jammed, a scribbled note on it explaining that someone would be coming by for the repair later. When I'd peeked inside the cubby hole meant for the chickens' exits and entrances, it seemed like I'd manage fine just reaching inside.
