Hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Harry, a third generation farmer with around sixty acres plus a few cows and pigs. Actually I’m new in the area. I took over managing the farm from my uncle who is now too elderly to run it. Today I’m at the Chawton Livestock Centre, it’s the biggest stock sale for miles around. This auction has an assortment of lots, including pigs, mostly Tamworth’s and Berkshire’s, heifers, and a couple of bulls.

I’m not here to bid on stock. I’m here to see a rather special sire, or breeding bull. This stud bull has a significant reputation, and I have rented its services for my herd of Hereford heifers back at the farm, about nine miles away.

Okay, I’m looking for someone called, what’s his name again? Let me see… Oh yeah, Harry. I haven’t met him before but apparently he’s here to check out my stud bull Adonis, who I’ve also bought along for judging.

I’m Scarlett by the way. I own a stud farm a few miles away, and honestly, I hate these fucking auctions. Full of old bastards who think they know everything there is to know about farming and animals, and most are also borderline sex pests. As a single woman in this place all I see and hear are suggestive remarks, nods and winks. These men are just a beige bunch of stinky old wankers, and I really wish I didn’t have to deal with them. But ho-hum, a girl’s got to make a living.

It’s late October so it’s been cold and overcast all week, and the days are getting shorter and shorter. To make things worse, the rain has been falling all day. The roads around here are coated in a layer of mud from the Hilux’s, Defenders and the trucks used to transport the animals to the auction.

Right now the rain is beating down hard on the corrugated roof of the auction building, creating a cacophony - I love that word - of noise mixed with the squeaking and snorting of the animals. All this competes with the auctioneers PA and the background noise of chat and laughter. The building is a large functional shed open on two sides lit by huge, overhead, yellow arc lamps. The heating is two warm air blowers. It’s actually quite cosy in here.

Here we go. Same shit weather, shit smells, and shitheads everywhere. This draughty old shed is not suitable for an auction, or anything to do with animals.  It’s just cobbled together for this event, and it's a genuine fire hazard with these lights and heaters. Stupid fuckers.

It also disrespects the animals. This may be their last stop before slaughter, but they are treated like cattle – no joke intended. I’m in two minds whether I want my Adonis here at all. It’s so depressing.

The combination of odours from the defecating animals, the sweet aroma of hay and the earthy tang of mud is a unique, heady mix. I grew up with it and hardly notice it now.

The hay bales are laid out to form an open-ended arena, with the auctioneer sitting on an elevated, temporary platform made with a forklift and some wooden pallets. He announces the lots and bids in a language that excludes all but the very experienced. The pace is fast. The animals don’t stay in the arena for very long, it’s a multi-sensory experience.

I don’t know why I feel compelled to share this with you, but let me be blunt. I’m here for business, the rest of it, I despise. I can’t stand the stink, the atmosphere of imminent slaughter, the cruelty, the farming ‘style’ and the casual sexism.

I can feel their eyes on me, these ugly farmers with their unlikely facial hair and dubious personal hygiene. It used to really upset me when I was a girl, when my Dad used to bring me along to these events.

In fact when I was barely seventeen I had an interaction with a young farmer aquaintance of Dad’s, did I not mention that? Yeah, this guy saw me clearing out a horsebox on my own while everyone else was in the auction. He offered to help, and I may have flirted with him a little - or maybe a lot - you decide. I remember his hot breath, his rough clothing, his stubble, and his fingers inside my knickers rubbing my pussy. I obviously opened my legs, which of course he understood as an invitation to push them further inside, I didn't mind. The dirty fucker even rubbed his wet fingers over my mouth before tossing himself off into my face while I knelt in front of him. “Please don’t tell your Dad!” he pleaded as he left.

I did tell my Dad, and the guy finished up in hospital, castrated or something. He was never seen around here again. I admit my Father was a bit of a thug when he was alive, but he adored his daughter. What I didn’t mention to Dad is that leading up to that encounter I’d already had a few boyfriends of my age but mostly older, they all seemed obsessed with fingering my cunt, I don’t know what it is about farmers. Do they do that to the animals too? I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve hated farmers and farming since then.

Across from where I’m standing I can see the person I’m here to meet, the owner of the sire that I’m about to hire. She stands out from the mostly male attendees, not just because she is female, it’s because she oozes a powerful sexual appeal. It’s something that I'm struggling to define, to put my finger on. She has a kind of horny, ‘fundamental’ sexuality.

This ‘something’ has not gone unnoticed by others. The men standing around her, dressed in their customary earthy tones, with their reddish faces and flat caps, are sharing whispered comments, nudging and pointing, as if she’s a prize sow at the auction.

Looking around it’s the same old faces, the same sad attitudes and same sad lives.  I feel sorry for their wives, assuming they were lucky enough to find one.

Except him, over there, that guy in the Carhartt jacket. Not seen him before. I wonder if that’s Harry. I hope so. He’s looking over here so I assume he’s put two and two together.

Yes, that’s her. She’s currently preoccupied as her charge, Adonis, is about to enter the arena to be judged, but I think I caught her eye. I didn’t know before but today they are judging animals in competition as well as auctioning them.

Bringing Adonis to this event, apart from doing some business with this bloke Harry, is about showing him off. He is my boy, my stud, even my life in some ways. I get turned-on by watching Adonis at work, by his dominance, his swagger, and his enormous cock and balls. I love his insouciance, his power, his insatiability, and, of course, his fecundity. It’s his productivity that keeps me in enough money to run my own business and be self-sufficient.

I have a need to show off too. After so much attention in the past, both wanted and unwanted, mostly from men but also some women, I have developed a likeness for being looked at. Is that kinky? I want my body to be admired, worshipped, ached for, masturbated over. Many of those old farmers have either had a feel when I was younger, or wished they had.

So today I pulled on my tightest jodhpurs, just to show what a real, fuck-able body looks like, and get those tosser farmer so excited they’ll have to shuffle back to their sheds for a wank.

Adonis, an Aberdeen Angus breed, is shepherded into the arena by a tall, young chap who wears a flat cap and traditional long, brown coat, which identifies him as a stockman. He clearly works for the owner, and he handles the massive bull extremely adeptly. Interestingly, he keeps a wary, deferential eye on her too, and reacts instantly to her gestures.

Yeah, he might be young but Tom knows how to handle Adonis, he’s become an important part of my business, and my existence. I can certainly handle Tom too, if you know what I mean. Maybe I’ll tell you about him later.

Adonis can be tetchy and moody, depending on his environment. His intimidating presence can spook heifers as well as owners, but I am so proud of the reputation he has earned. He gets pampered like a show horse might, washed, brushed and manicured. He’s a valuable boy too.

Adonis himself is an intimidating vision. His physical, masculine bulk, especially around his front quarters seems colossal in comparison with the cows. His sheer heft, his tapering legs and powerful posture is mesmerizing. His broad, bear-like face is at shoulder level, and his dark eyes glint with alertness and intelligence, his coat is manicured and glossy black. A thick, coarse rope is tied twice around his head and neck then through a large metal ring piercing his snout.

As he enters the arena hushes, he walks slowly and with utter nonchalance into the middle. He knows he is the star of this show.

Look at them all, eyes fixed on my boy’s bits. They know how special Adonis is, it makes their heifers wet with anticipation, instantly pregnant and then super-productive. That’s all down to me, and my boy.

All eyes are magnetically drawn to his profile, and no-one, man or woman, is able avert their gaze from the gentle swing of his enormous testicles, encased inside a smooth black scrotum the size of a football. Under his belly is his large, hairy prepuce with the pink tip of his penis just visible. The few women in the auction are riveted to Adonis’s gigantic genitalia. I am too if I’m being honest.

Predictably, he wins the winners rosette, which is pinned to the ropes on the side of his head. A round of applause and then his owner gets handed the winners cheque.

Of course he won, that was a foregone conclusion. What a crappy rosette, why do they bother with such pointless trinkets? It should be a trophy or champagne, something of value. And then there’s this cheque. Fifty quid? That doesn’t even cover the diesel to get the boy here. Cheap fuckers. Anyway, now that’s over let’s go and meet Harry.

“Congratulations,” he says, reaching out his hand, “He’s a handsome beast.”

“Thanks. Isn’t he just? I’m Scarlett,” I say, smiling, and firmly taking his hand.

“You must be Harry,”  I add.

She is tallish, around forty, and her beauty is striking. It radiates confident, rude health, borne I imagine from many days outside, riding, farming, walking. Her hair is a longish, black bob with ends that flick upwards. Large brown eyes, a smooth complexion and succulent full lips made shiny with lip-gloss. Her hands and the skin on her fingers are slightly rough, and her handshake is stronger than most men I've met.

She wears a dark green, waxed Barbour coat with a tan corduroy collar, which looks as if it could have belonged to a man such was the loose fit.  The sides of the coat flap in the breeze rather like gigantic, mythological wings, framing her figure.

Underneath she wears a dark brown pullover tight over her breasts, onto which rests a string of white pearls. Covering her legs and ample thighs are beige riding jodhpurs with knee-length, leather boots.

Hmmm. He’s interesting. Obviously polite, probably privately educated, born into money perhaps, and pretty good-looking in an obvious way. You know what I mean girls? Tall, blonde, blue eyes. A bit dull perhaps?

Anyway he’s giving me the once over, he’s checked out my tits already. I wonder if he’s into riding porn as he’s ogling my jodhpurs and boots now. Probably a repressed pervert if he’s been to public school.

But I think he’s someone I can, and will, control.

Anyway, here’s another herd owner who may want the services of Adonis, I’d better say hello.

As she speaks with another farmer I cannot help glimpse Scarlett’s crotch between the flaps of her coat, there seems to be no visible panty line under her jodhpurs. These are so tight that they form a soft V shaped crease where her legs meet, and the overhead lighting seems to exaggerate the slight bulge and contours of her crotch, forming a subtle, sexy, camel-toe.

Yeah, he’s definitely looking at my crotch, I’m glad a left my panties at home today. I bet he’s turned on, I know that he can see I’ve got a decent figure. The thought of a stranger getting hard by looking at me makes me horny as you know, but I’d better be careful otherwise I’ll get wet, and a damp patch on these jodhpurs will cause a riot around here.

A farmer acquaintance, Hector, nudges me from my erotic reverie, and notices what I am studying,

“Don’t even think about it, Harry,” he says smirking. “Don’t go there.”

He says this with a knowing smirk and taps the side of his nose. I never did work out what this gesture actually means. Scarlett finishes her conversation and looks back at me.

Was he talking to Hector just then? For fucks sake! I bet he told Harry to steer clear of me. That wasn’t his attitude years ago when he was about thirty and I was barely eighteen. He wanted to be close enough then, when he was wanking off over my tits with that other bloke, what’s his name? Billy, or something.

I remember now. Both had done the fingering thing, but I had to suck them both off too. I didn’t mind but they hadn’t washed their cocks for days. Well that’s what it tasted like, and I can remember that smell to this day. Only Billy could cum, now I think of it, so maybe Hector’s secretly playing for the other team? He’s obviously grown up to be like the rest of them in other respects. Bastard.

“So, tomorrow,” she says, fixing me with her dark eyes.

“We will be at your place at around nine in the morning, sharpish. It’ll take a while to get Adonis unloaded and to get him settled, so please be ready on time,” she says firmly.

“Fine, yes, I’m all set. I followed your instructions so that he will feel right at home,” I reply.

“Excellent,” she says, “We will see you in the morning.”

With that she turns on her heels and follows Adonis and the stockman back to the large trailer parked outside in the rain. As she walks, she turns her head and glances back at me, a smile forming at the edges of her mouth.

I have to get a move on, two other farms to visit today. I’ll get Tom to take Adonis to the trailer quickly and we’ll be off. I’ll see Harry in the morning. He’s quite a charmer actually and not bad looking.

Whoops. Okay, he caught me looking, but that’s fine. I bet he’s thinking about me for the rest of the afternoon, I wonder if he’s single?

I’m back in my pick-up. I can’t shake the image of Scarlett from my mind. The atmosphere at the auction, the bull’s powerful presence, and the horny jodhpurs that Scarlett wears, all this contributes to an earthy eroticism.

I have to admit her confidence, sexiness, and her no-nonsense attitude has given me a semi-hard on. I have to lean back in my seat to reach into my trousers and release my constrained cock, as it suddenly lacked space in my briefs. I also realize there is a drop of pre-cum at the end of my cock, which I disperse by rubbing it between thumb and forefinger.

Next day.

I’ve been up since dawn, making sure the milking at the cowshed has gone as planned but the rain has been really heavy overnight, everything seems to be damp and grey but the artificial lights in the sheds offer a warm inviting ambiance. I’m now at the house for a cup of tea and a slice of toast.

There is a very loud bang on the front door. I open it. It’s Scarlett, at exactly nine o’clock. She’s wearing the same outfit as yesterday except for a different jumper, but the same white pearls. The same coat too, unbuttoned with the sides flapping in the morning breeze, just like yesterday.

“Hello Harry, let’s get on with it, business first,” she says brusquely.

She immediately brushes past me into the house, her scent is a mixture of old waxed jacket and expensive hair products, and, did her hand just lightly touch the crotch of my trousers? Did I just imagine that?

So we drive Adonis over to Harry’s farm, not an easy place to get to because it’s up on a hill. I tell Tom to stay put and keep an eye on Adonis. I splash through the puddles in my boots and knock on the dark green front door.

He answers. Harry looks good this morning, a cup of tea in his hand, the smell of toast. I enter quickly to get out of the rain, he stands aside just enough for me to get past. My left hand may have ‘accidentally’ brushed against the front of his trousers,

“He, he,” I chuckle to myself.

It’s a nice warm kitchen area, with an Aga on one side and chairs and a table on the other. I’ll see if I can playfully get his ‘attention’ before we get down to business. I predict soon he will be like putty in my hands.

“Tea?” I say.

“No, thank you Harry,” she replies, “but I will have a coffee instead.”

I make her a capsule coffee, place it on the timber table and take a seat. I am aware of her eyes following me around the room.

She tosses a paper file onto the table, throws off her Barbour, pulls out a chair and sits down facing me. She sits so that her legs are a little wider apart than seems absolutely necessary, her hands resting on top of her thighs.

Once again she is obviously not wearing panties, and the jodhpurs are having exactly the same effect on her crotch, and exactly the same effect on me. She sees me looking but this time but I don’t avert my eyes immediately, instead I let my eyes linger on her lap for a second.

I sit directly facing him, this way I can begin to reel him in. To showcase my body I have omitted my knickers again but worn the same style jodhpurs. And, because I fingered my cunt while I shaved it in the shower this morning, it is especially plump and profiled today.

He’s also intrigued. He’s probably asking himself why would that old bastard Hector warn him about me? And did he ask why? Anyway, I sit with my legs parallel with my hips, rest my hands on my thighs, and watch Harry’s gaze as it descends magnetically to my groin. I know he cannot resist me. This is my power. I shall tell him my terms, money up front, in advance.

Plus, the supplement of course.

“Thank you for the coffee. So, Harry. It’s like this, and please excuse my language. Adonis will fuck your herd and you will make a lot of money from the offspring both now and into the future,” I say.

I continue, “I only make money from his service and his spunk. He’s very good at it, and his sperm is potent and very valuable. So I require payment up front, in advance. Plus a supplement.”

I was taken aback by the demand for payment upfront, but a supplement? What does she mean?  

Scarlett’s sales pitch is essentially this: she owns something that I need, which is rare, and is of very high quality. So I must pay for it. It’s that simple. I agree to all that she wants, but still don’t ask what the supplement is. I’m almost afraid to.

So it works, I knew it would. He really is like putty in my hands. He is a push over, both business-wise and as a definite easy fuck if that’s what I decide I want. And ladies, I have decided.  But I can also control him too, like I do the rest of the farmers around here. I have decided to make my plan real today, here at Harry’s farm. So hold onto your hats.

So after settling the business part of the arrangement for Adonis’s services, we shake hands and venture back outside into the rain.

In the yard is Scarlett’s trailer, and inside is Adonis, his huge head gazing out over a study metal grid gate. From the Defender jumps the stockman from yesterday, I didn’t mention it yesterday but he’s around twenty, with a well-built physique and today he's wearing Wellington boots, chainsaw trousers, and a heavy jacket.

“This is Tom,” she says.

I nod, and Tom almost bashfully half-raised a hand in response, but says nothing.

“Right, let’s get Adonis out,” commands Sharon.

So, Tom leads my boy into one of Harry’s sheds. It’s actually one of the better kept places I have seen, plenty of hay on the floors of the pens and good lighting, new hay bales lying around the shed, and it’s only the main floor which is muddy with a slurry of mud, shit and whatever else. This will be fine for what I have planned.

I can see he has a bunch of pigs in the first of the pens, and one of them is clearly the stud, or 'boar' as Harry calls it. The rest are his bitches, which he calls ‘gilts’.

Adonis’s first fuck will be this pretty little heifer in the pen next door. Adonis is escorted past its pen by Tom, and the little cow has a look of trepidation on its pretty face. Girl, you should be scared. Tom ties Adonis to a steel upright at the back of the shed, while we take a look at the pigs.

This shed has heavy steel barriers creating two pens. One holds five British Landrace breed pigs, one of which is the boar, who is now circling the gilts. The other pen is occupied by my favourite, a Hereford heifer called Betty.

Betty is the prettiest cow on the farm, maybe in the whole region. Her markings are like tan clouds over parched desert sand. Her nose is a wet, soft, pink, her eyes large and glassy. Such a gentle and friendly heifer, and was raised by me by hand. Her mother died birthing Betty.

Suddenly I’m in two minds, do I really want this delicate little thing ravaged by Adonis? To be deflowered by a hired hand, a paid-for stud? Relax, I say to myself. You are anthropomorphizing again, transferring your own guilt, hang-ups and reactions on to animals.

I’m no pig expert but I know what is going to happen next. Look at the stud go, it’s exciting to watch the blubberous mass of heaving pink bodies, like a massive, messy, porky, reverse gangbang. It’s a symphony of grunts, squeals and squeaks mixed with the guttural smells and fetid air of animal activity. The stud, okay, the boar, is getting going now, maybe he likes an audience too. I admit to feeling a slight melting sensation in my crotch, a tingle of tension, as the boar hammers away relentlessly at the female.

The pigs. Yes, I’d forgotten about them. While we were getting Adonis sorted there was a commotion in the pigpen. There’s lots of shuffling, snorting, and squealing. Pink bodies, pushing up against each other, like a nude, rush-hour subway ride.

Scarlett, Tom and I lean against the pen bars and view the source of the noise. I feel Scarlett’s arm touching mine, and as I look over I can see she is riveted by the activity of the boar, her eyes fixed on the close-up carnal pig show. And did she just lick her lips?

I let my arm touch Harry’s. Tom is close behind me, looking over my shoulder with his right hand on the bars of the pen. As I watch, I reach for his hand and cover it with my own. Tom now knows what is about to happen. He understood my signal, my command.

I can feel Tom’s hot breath on my neck. His free hand is now around to the front of my coat sweeping back the open wing, he slides his soft hand around my back. With his fingers he finds the fly of my jodhpurs, unzips it, then slowly releases the pressure caused by me leaning over.

He’s behind me now, and begins tugging them down under my coat, one side then the other. He eases the stretched material over my buttocks. I wriggle my bum slightly to help him. They then they jump past my cheeks, and I feel the cool air around my groin. Tom eases them down my legs to the top of my boots. He then kneels behind me, his hands at the top of my thighs, and nuzzles his hot face between the cheeks of my arsehole.

He withdraws, then presses his thumb gently against my puckering sphincter while three of his fingers begin to massage the lips of my vagina, his middle finger finding the inner wetness of my cunt. I let out a low moan, a sign of licentious praise for Tom's skills.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the proximity of Tom behind Scarlett, both staring at the pigs. Then...

Oh my fucking Christ, what is Tom doing? Scarlett is leaning against the cold metal barrier and stretches her arms, arches her back, extends her arse, pushing herself against Tom who is kneeling behind her, his knees in the mud of the floor, his face burrowed inside Scarlett’s arse cheeks. WHAT THE FUCK?

What do I do? Do I look? Look away? I don’t know what to do. I’m flustered, but utterly mesmerized too.

She then gives me a look, one that I will never forget. Pure, lewd, lust.

I command Tom to remove his face and fingers from me, and to drag over a hay bale from the stack. He is so obedient. I keep my eyes on Harry, who is hypnotized.

I then crouch on all fours on the hay bale, half-naked, my back curved, my arms flat, coat open, my cunt and arsehole displayed like the ripest, most lubricious peach.

Tom kneels again at the end of the bale, now at a perfect height, and leans forward to insert his wet, pointed tongue into the star of my sphincter, his thumbs parting my bum cheeks wide. Tom is my mute robot, a functional tool solely for my pleasure. His big, flat tongue now begins to lap around my pulsating anus, like a cat with milk, before he moves to the area leading to the dark red lips of my labia.

Harry is bewitched and bewildered by what is happening. I look straight at him.

“What did you expect Harry? I say.

“This, is, the supplement.”

“I want you come over here, I want to taste your cock.”

I, cannot resist.

Fumbling with my flies I drag my hardened cock free. I stand in front of Scarlett who takes me firmly in her hand. She looks straight at me, and directly into my soul.

Without taking her eyes from me she gently paints the end of my penis around her mouth, her lips. With her tongue she circles the head, pulling the foreskin back with her fingers. She inserts just the shiny, throbbing, purple head in between her lips. She pauses, before devouring my cock fully into her mouth, her saliva dripping from the corners of her lips. All my breath leaves my lungs in a single, ecstatic, groan.

She takes me deep, then pulls me out, pushes me up over her nose and licks the throbbing web under my helmet with the tip of her tongue, followed by the huge purple vein on the underside of my cock.

She takes a testicle between her lips, it disappears into her mouth, one then the other. Then, the end of my cock is back into her mouth and she deep-throats me. Scarlett is moaning, gagging like a porn star, my shaved balls gently resting against her chin, saliva streaming from the corners of her mouth, her make-up smeared over her cheeks.

Tom’s tongue is buried deep in my anus, he then inserts a finger into my sphincter, his thumb rubbing my labia, searching for, finding, and circling my clitoris. Oh that feels good, so good. He knows his stuff, I taught him well. He then inserts a second finger into my arsehole, spitting on both as he does so, rotates them, followed by his tongue, adding more slippery spittle to the hole.

He then slowly withdraws his fingers, and I feel the presence of his cock at the entrance to my soaked cunt. He pushes in easily, quickly, abruptly, completely, like I trained him, pushing me against Harry with his cock in my mouth. Tom’s slippery thumb is pushed into my asshole as he pumps his cock hard into my cunt. After a just three strokes I’m about to cum, but instead I shout,

“Tom, OUT!” Tom gently withdraws and waits.

“Harry. Get on your back!” I command. He hesitates.

“Get, on, your, back!” I repeat slowly.

I comply.

I desperately pull up a second hay bale. I quickly push down my trousers and lie on my back. Scarlett urgently takes my cock in her hand, raises one knee and straddles me.

The tip of my erect cock is now poised at the prominent lips of her labia. I look up, her black hair draping into my face, her wicked, expectant smile, her breasts still enrobed in her jumper and the white pearls are a glinting, dangling loop. I caress her naked lower torso with her coat wings folded back Her crumpled, soiled jodhpurs stretched over my torso, her mud spattered boots flat on the hay bale.

Suddenly and forcefully she drops all her weight onto me, my cock disappearing deep into her warm wetness, no friction, no resistance. Scarlett breathes in, closes her eyes, and slowly at first, gyrates her pelvis. I feel her internal muscles gripping and releasing my cock. She starts to buck, to rock her pelvis back and forth, up and down. She then slows…

“TOM !” she shouts.

Over Scarlett’s shoulder I see Tom approaching again, his face blank, obedient. I feel his fingers, searching, guiding, preparing. Scarlett is starting down at me, her eyes ablaze, they then suddenly widen with licentious ecstasy. Then I can feel his insertion, his cock, inside her. Tom’s cock is on top of mine, pushing with mine through the thin, pulsating, inner-wall of Scarlett’s cunt.

Tom is thrusting deep inside my arse, I feel the slippery, throbbing girth of Tom’s dick and Harry, bucking, groaning and writhing from below, his cock throbbing and expanding inside my soaked vagina.

The hay bale begins to collapse as we fuck in raw, orgiastic unison. I vaguely feel dampness on my knees from the floor as the bale disintegrates, absorbing the mud from the floor. Tom is slipping, loosing traction, he has to keep repositioning himself for grip. His cock is moving around my gaped arsehole, his frenzied action splashing mud over my thighs, my ass, and Harry’s torso. My knees are now on the floor, covered in brown sludge, mud spatters on my thighs, between our sweating skin, I feel grit on my arse as Tom grinds into me, Harry’s cock hard and urgent, pushing against Tom, deep in my arse. I feel a crescendo approaching like an express train approaching...

“Give me your cum Tom. Pump it into me. Inseminate me. FUCK ME, FUCK MY ARSE!” I scream at Tom who has now found his rhythm, pumping my arsehole, pushing me forward.

“You, come in my cunt! Yes, fuck, fuck, FUCK. YES, YES. YES!" I scream at Harry.

My orgasm is a torrent, a fountain of ecstasy. I squirt, I scream, I writhe. I am utterly transported to a ecstatic, febrile, wanton heaven.

I feel Tom come, silently, inside Scarlett’s arse, spurting deep inside her, the pulses of his dick hosing his warm seed into her. It’s too much, I thrash, I bellow, I curse. I shudder in ecstasy under Scarlett as she screams and swears to her orgasm. My balls explode their contents inside Scarlett, a tsunami of pent-up tension, denial and frustration.

I am totally defeated.

When Tom finally withdraws, Scarlett slowly sits up, panting, flushed and with her customary dark eyes sparking with deep sexual satisfaction. My semi-rigid, cum-covered penis is exerted from her engorged cunt, and it drops exhausted onto my pelvis. She sits on her haunches, on the muddy floor, hands on hips, thighs apart. The smell of sex, and the farm, and the mud, embraces all three of us.

Scarlett smiles as she looks down at herself, our white cum begins seeping from her pulsating sphincter and rouged, glistening vagina. Her body is covered in streaks of brown, red marks and sweat.

She reaches down and with cupped fingers scoops the warm spunk from her groin as it dribbles out in white, aerated globs.

Scarlett, with her eyes fixed on me, then slowly massages it into her thighs, pussy and arse, as if it’s just an expensive body moisturizer designed exclusively for the skin of dominant females. It’s only when she smears the sperm onto her stomach do I notice a tattoo, just between her belly button and her hip.

A beautiful, horned, image of a woman, with huge ornate wings.

It dawns on me. How stupid I have been, how did I not see it before?

Scarlett. She is the Succubus.

Yes. I am now replete. I am satisfied, for now. I am in control. And I like that.

I glance at Tom, dutifully, silently cleaning himself. I look across at Adonis, my boy, aloof and proud. I look down at Harry, lying on the filthy ground, stupefied, spattered with mud, his cock and balls used and drained.

“Like I said, Harry. Spunk is valuable. I require regular insemination. And I require my studs to provide it.”

“You are my stud now.”