A handsome bull has been made available to me, courtesy of a very nosy eagle.

I have had my sights on that bull for a while now – a healthy, muscular male with a thick neck and a pair of hard horns on him. No female could pass by him unaffected. Neither could I because as he is a full blooded male, so I am a full blooded female, and there is only one place we can let that blood, ahem... anyway… yes, yes, yes!!!

So now I have my own sex confession to weave into the rich fabric of the blog’s flourishing erotica.

We lay on a woollen blanket lent to us by a friendly sheep in the next paddock. The sheep had no more use for it – it was going to be butchered the next day. Its dying wish was to watch one last mating ritual. We obliged and the sheep got the first row seat on a bale of hay. The eagle watched too, as it was his wish despite having been told of the R18 rating. He said he wasn’t sure how old he was – so he may have been 18 at the time. We believed him. He wore thick spectacles and appeared mature beyond his unspecified age.

Firstly I nibbled on my bull’s hairy ear. It wasn’t very clean but I was undeterred. He twitched his ear in delight at which point his earing got stuck in the gap between my two front teeth, and came off cutting through his sensitive ear skin (the ring, not the teeth). He mooed for joy while I apologised profusely. He asked me to bite him on his tail and confessed to enjoying a bit of light spanking. I obliged on both accounts. He got horny, which was no surprise considering he had two horns to show for it.

He licked me on the cheek… I gasped. He silenced my gasps with another lick of his meaty, soft tongue. He then slid it down my neck, and lower sending me into shivers of ecstasy. I was aroused – his tongue approaching my nipples. With my left foot I began to shepherd him into the cowshed of my most intimate crevices, when… he recoiled and mooed in disgust, “You call these UDDERS???”
“No, I said, I wouldn’t go that far,” I offered a lame explanation. My breasts could by no stretch of imagination be called udders, I am afraid.
The bull dismounted my backside and walked away in dignified silence. The sheep on the hay bale bleated in terror. The eagle flew off and landed on a tree trunk, of which existence he had no idea as his spectacles were heavily steamed up (he had done a lot of breathing till then). My world tumbled from under my feet – I had been rejected!
Anger boiled inside me. I got up and stomped my hooves. He looked back contemptuously. I screamed, “I will have you! I will have you like it or not! I will have you medium-to-rare in mushroom sauce!”
He sneered, “Bullshit!”