Page 39 of Getting Down on the Farm: Vol. 1
I sighed as a clawed thumb pushed through the lace—not tearing it—to delve slightly into my core.
"Tell me the truth. You like it like this. You like me finding you wet and ready for my cock. You like to whine and pretend you don't want me pumping inside of you, grunting into the back of your neck, but it makes you hotter than a kettle on the burner. You want to beused."
I pressed my scorching cheek to my shoulder and wiped away the little drip of a tear that had escaped. "Yes," I whispered.
"Good. I like you ass-up and soaking through your panties,like you are right now," he purred, pushing that digit deeper until I heard the pleading protest of fabric at its limit.
I babbled, suddenly urgent. "Please don't tear these, I picked them out special for you and I like them and they'rereallyexpensive, like, I'll never be able to replace them if you?—"
The finger relented and then claws hooked into the waistband of my underwear and guided them carefully over my ass cheeks and down my thighs. I went limp in my spot over the log again.
"Thank you."
"You only beg that sweet when I've got you about to rinse my cock with your cum," he noted. Which made my face hot all over again. I didn't remember begging, but I mostly just remembered thewonderof those moments, the shock and thrill and the determination tohave them. "So you like being my little ripe berry, my sweet little bitch in heat."
I gasped, but I was pretty sure even my ass was blushing now, and the only sound I made in answer was a whine at first, and then a desperate, "Yes."
"Good. ‘Cause I'm fucking your ass tonight."
"Wait,what?!" I snapped, trying to sit up again but cuffed just as quickly, claws digging into my pulse, a more determined push back down to the ground than before.
"You heard me. And look at your puss. Well, no, you can't. But I can, and it's kissing and begging for me. It loves my ideas."
Well, fuck my vagina then, I thought, but I meant it as insult to them both, not an invitation, exceptyesan invitation, because vagina wassafeand ass was scary and he wasbigand?—
And he was stretching my cheeks apart, a cold nose nuzzling in between them, propping them open for the scalding hot tongue that started to lap.
"Mmhm, you taste all fresh," he murmured into my ass. "Soapy. You cleaned here for me."
I moaned and covered my face with my hands, even if that was hardly necessary given our positions.
"You feel this?" he asked, and it took me a moment to realize what he meant because I was busy rocking on the log,feelinghis tongue slide over every inch of my ass. But two fingers were tapping against my flesh, and they weren't sharp! "Did this just for you. Just for this," he added, and then one padded tip prodded at my ass and his face burrowed into my pussy, tongue seeking entrance at my sopping sex.
"Wow, you trimmed your nails for anal," I said, trying to distract myself from the fact that the digit circling my tight hole actually was kind of a pleasant, warm, tickling sensation. "What a prince."
His laugh shook through me and I shivered. The log was surprisingly comfortable, a nice bed of moss cushioning my ribs, and I was growing strangely attached to the scent of earth. But even better, I was learning to recognize this werewolf's scent, woodsmoke and sweat, the kind that reminded me of cooking grease and salt and all the foods I wasn't supposed to love eating so much.
His finger burrowed its way into me and I whimpered, but it didn't hurt. Not yet. It was strange, and stranger still as he rubbed it against my tender muscle, tongue mimicking the gesture inside of my cunt, licking my opening clean and then making it wet all over again.
I wanted so badly to sit up and twist andlook,but now that my werewolf had himself practically nose-deep in my sex, I didn't want to interrupt him. But this wasn't sustainable, surely? PIIAI wouldn't let me live on this farm indefinitely, just constantly searching for new spots to get myself stuck and fucked.
He hadn't expressed an interest in knowing my name, or showing me his face, or partnering me. Just this. Just…
"Uhgnnn." I scowled at the sounds coming out of me as that outrageously long tongue plunged in and out of me. I'd met human cocks with less length and girth than that damn tongue. It could've been this werewolf's only qualifying extremity for fucking me, and I would've been a lucky girl stuck in a chicken coop all the same. "No!" I cried as he retreated.
"Stay still," he growled before I could turn to glare at him.
There was an embarrassing wet squelch, but it wasn't coming from me, at least, and the cold, slippery lube hit my ass and the finger inside of me, now rooted to a fat knuckle, started to pump.
"Clench all you want, berry, won't make it easier on you to take my cock," my werewolf warned.
"Then keep licking," I hissed, but I listened, focusing on relaxing my ass even when the second dulled fingertip started to press me open.
He listened too, nipping the backs of my thighs briefly in playful little bites before opening wide and thrusting his tongue into me with a hungry snarl. I tried to stifle the sounds clawing their way out of my throat, but my werewolf was loud, slurping and sucking, growling into me as he worked a second finger. The stretch was a burn now, little flashes of heat flickering toward my core as he scissored me open.
"Oh fuck, I'm close," I gasped out, trying to scoot backward onto his face. When he started to retreat, my gasp became a snarl. "Make me come, asshole."
He laughed but his free hand reached between my legs, working my clit between pinching fingers, ruthless and perfect, tugging and pressing and circling around the wound-up nerves.
