"I am so sorry Clinton," Althea frustratingly breathed. "It must be me, out of practice you know."

"Hey it's alright Althea. We've had a good time and there'll be others eh?" he chuckled, patting her black rump as she unstraddled herself from his reclining body. He watched as she staggered across to her bathroom, her buttocks rolling deliciously, her back deeply grooved at the spine, her breasts rolling into view at each side, her thighs glistening front and back with their combined juices, which turned her black skin, chocolate brown as it caught the sun light. She turned and nodded as she reached the door. Her boobs swayed and crashed against the door frame and his eyes lingered on the erect, black, glossy bulbs of her nipples, finally sweeping down to the thick matted patch of her pubic hair.

"You bet, there'll be a next time," she giggled girlishly.

"you're mine. I pay your fees. None of my high class whores are getting a whiff of you, don't worry."

"All them bitches...and the dogs get a whiff of me Althea," he laughed, waving his cock wand at her.

"Remember how you found out?"

"Yes well, those rich cows ain't getting anything of you so there. Now I've got to get ready for this damn meeting. Oh god look at me." The last words were screeched from the depths of the ensuite bathroom as she stared in the mirror Clinton contemplated her first words and smiled. If only you knew he thought, stroking his dick. He would get washed and dressed, pick up his truck, change into his farm gear and go to the market as arranged. He would be pleased to get out of his fancy suit, not that he was in a suit at the time. Althea sat on the toilet and pissed hotly, her pussy stung as the acidity washed out. Her purple tinted labia was sore from so many aborted attempts to force Clinton's knob past it. Her clitty felt like a burst boil, such was the inflammation from her rubbing it with Clinton's cock and his good, very very good tongueing and fingering.

She had been sure she could take such a massive porker, she had fucked around for most of her fortyone years. Hell she had taken her brother's solid brown donger when she was thirteen and never looked back. Two marriages, five kids, two divorces, countless lovers had made her hole sumptuously accommodating. Why the hell hadn't she been able to get Clinton up hard? She swiped her drips and winced, then she stood in front of the wall mirror. She peered down and carefully pulled her cunt lips wide open, wishing she hadn't but determined to prove to herself that her cunt was big enough. She had known enough men, to realise some needed help or time to get it up. If she was impatient, she had been able to stuff a semi hard or even a flaccid cock into her snatch, such was the slashing great cavern she was now gazing at in all its flushing, gaudy red wetness. Surely she could have stuffed it in, that would have got it hard, but Clinton's dick had remained stubbornly soft and floppy. Long - yes, thick - not particularly, wet - certainly, but hard - no fucking way Althea, she moaned as she got on with her hair and makeup. They had parted, Clinton's success on landing a supportive financier evident in his cocky manner and the twenty tens in his wallet.

Althea half staggered, half ran to her car, being tugged by the effervescent Jimbo. Gingerly she sat and drove off, still wondering if she had lost her touch, but determined to try again. He changed in the gents at the supermarket and drove into the cattle market. He was greeted by many friends and neighbours, all treating the day much a social occasion as a trading day. Most of them were packing up their trucks and Clinton finally got to the pens, cleared papers with the tally man and loaded in his purchases from the morning. After a quick meal following the unloading and penning, Clinton wandered to the sheds in high anticipation. Inside, he gazed at his newcomers, all of them munching placidly, blinking their soft eyes as he approached.

"You'll be Molly, you'll be Grace, you'll be Meg," he muttered as he passed each byre. The three cows chewed cud noisily as he walked back up the line. Their lower jaws slowly rotating at odds with their uppers, nostrils damp and ears twitching, they looked supremely gentle. Molly was a beautifully marked Freisian. Grace was a delicately tinted Guernsey and Meg was an inky black Aberdeen Angus. He had already chosen her as his favourite at market. He stepped into her byre, grabbing a tub off a shelf and placing it on the struts of the byre, patting her rump as she swayed away.

Her skin was silky yet curly and shone in the shafts of sunlight that streamed through the slatted walls. His practiced hands felt over her body, confirming her bone structure and noting her trim legs. As she stepped round her head, she lowed gently and he heard the familiar splattering of her shit on the concrete gully behind her. Clinton ignored her natural function as he smoothed his hand over her ears. Her eyes gazed at him soulfully as he ran his hands over her snout and onto her gently blowing nostrils. Splayed wide, they were wet and he coursed his fingers round their rims watching the membrane of snot that trailed after his finger tips.

"You're an absolute picture Meg," he murmured into her ear.

"We are going to be such good lovers...yes you and you too," he chuckled as Grace and Molly shuffled and mooed. Clinton walked round behind Meg, chuckling at the sloppy dump below. He shovelled it to one side, got the hose and washed it away. He saturated a cloth and washed Meg's rump, lifting her tail and carefully scrubbed her anus free of the droppings that had smeared down her haunches.

He noticed the ample vee pouch of her vagina, its protruding envelope of delicate folds exciting him. Swiftly dropping his pants and whipping off his tee shirt, Clinton stood in his sturdy boots, his huge cock swaying, barely avoiding scraping on the hard floor beneath. He stooped as he stepped into the thick carpet of fresh sawdust beneath the cow, his knob shunting the dust like a ploughed furrough. He felt for her great udder and smoothed his hand over the bulging sac, finding each of her teats and fingering them as if human teats. They were warm and firm without hardness and he spent some time with each one, finally sliding onto his butt and sucking at each one. Each gave him sustenance, sweet hot creamy milk which he guzzled contentedly. It would build up his strength he knew, as he guzzled on the cutely domed teats.

He gathered up his dick and smeared it over her udder, pressing it gently into the huge undercarriage as if to fertilise the outer membranes. Meg twisted her neck and gazed round and he offered his length to her. Immediately she started to snuffle at his knob and wrap her long curving tongue round it, lapping with such verve as if it was salt tablets or cow cake. He let her arouse him this way, squeezing his immense donger, feeling the slow surge of blood starting to filter into the thick veins that coursed through it.

Clinton got up and tensed his tool and it leapt and swayed in that satisfying way, which never failed him in this situation. He chuckled at the trouble Althea had taken that morning and her awful realisation that she had failed to get an erection on his prize member. He toyed as he always did, on whether to show her what turned him on, but as always decided that it was his secret.

He would get paid handsomely while she endeavoured and he could fuck to his hearts content with Meg, Grace and Molly. He dipped his hand into the tub of odourless lubricant and smeared it on his arm. He recalled the countless times he had watched, then helped his father and then taken over the assisted birth of hundreds of calves as he closed his fist to a point and gently pierced Meg's vulva. She gripped it as he waited then he pushed, loving the intimacy and ease at which she took his full arm length.

"No worries there then Meg," he murmured withdrawing. Clinton didn't bother to wipe his arm. All the odours and smeg trails were part of his love affair with his beast and he prepared himself now for the ultimate joining. Before stepping close to Meg's rear he moved a special stool he had fashioned from sturdy timber. He leaned forward and held her tail over Meg's back, baring her genitals. Slowly dropping his head he thrust his face towards her vagina, sniffing the intimate air until he caught the whiff of her sex. His cock twitched and he tensed his sphincter muscles. His balls rolled and tightened and he tensed again as he dipped his face into the soft folds of the bovine cunt.

Clinton tensed again and his member swirled in its blood curdling activity. He infiltrated his lips and nose into the dense swathes of her vaginal crevasse, licking at the earthy tang of her inner labia, finding more pungent scents and textures amongst the opening walls of her hole. He tensed his cock again and it swung in an arc, its colour gradually changing from pale pinkness to an ever deepening red.

Holding Meg's tail clear, he grabbed his solidifying cock and held it along his torso, dipping his tongue alternately onto his knob, lathering it with Meg's cuntal juices. His tongue pierced his slit and he let some of her fluids drain into it. With his feet, he budged the stool into place and stepped onto it. He stood motionless behind the unsuspecting cow, letting her tail drop, not touching her, simply tensing and relaxing his groin and sphincter as his cock responded. It took a huge effort, his eyes bulged, his neck tensed.

Veins throbbed over his groin and thighs. His belly rippled and his breath came in sharp grunts with the effort. He was stimulated by the odours on his face and the sight of Meg's rump, her swishing tail giving him glimpses of her fanny. As his cock gained the horizontal, Clinton gasped with the effort and proudly swayed his body, letting the magnificent member slap gently against Meg's rump. Swinging his dick in line with her hole, having to support it with his hand, he pushed as it centred and he gained six inches easily into the heat and tightness therein. Now his cock didn't buckle with flaccidness as it did with all the human cows he had been with. His cock stiffened as it entered Meg further, now twelve inches in and gaining.

Clinton pulled back and glanced to examine the girth of his now quite florid penis. No damage, so he thrust harder sinking it deep. He felt Meg contract round him and paused, loving the vice like grip until she pulsed, released him and he could ram at her again. He grabbed her rump, holding the protruding knuckle joints of her haunches as he made the last push. It was easy although firm, feeling pressure along his dick as he became fully embedded in her body. All twentyseven inches were buried up to his golloping great ballocks and he groaned in ecstacy as Meg again pulsed and gripped as if adjusting to this sudden intrusion.

Clinton waited and admired the way her labia wrapped tightly round the wedge of human muscle, so alien, but so fitting and comfortable. Meg lowed and turned her pretty head as if to say, "What next honey" and Clinton smiled.

"Like it darling?" the surrogate bull whispered hoarsely.

"It's yours from now on and Molly's and Grace's, welcome home." In the early evening, suffusing the light to oranges and tints of pink mixed with grey clouds, the bestial love scene commenced in earnest. Clinton started a steady shunt at Meg's sturdy rump, his practiced motions, gained over the years, with calves and then full blown cows, which were his ultimate favourite, made the fuck motions easy. His stool was spacious enough for him to take steps to continually adjust to the stride he had to take to fully insert and withdraw his massive dick into Meg's cunt.

Once hard, he could screw for hours and recalled the sows he used to keep, a legacy from his father. Long since dropped from the farm, due to economics and regulations on feed, they had in fact proved perfect receptacles for Clinton's growing appendage and particularly the time it took for him to get off. He had watched the boars at work daily and they seemed to be lodged up their various mounts for ages, motionless, staring into space. Quite why the animals attracted him this way and were the only females to get him hard, escaped him. He let the numerous farm dogs lick his dick and when they had kept horses, Clinton had fucked them too, but his favourites were the cows and the young heifers, Meg was a stunning choice from his marketing foray. She stayed calm, still and munched happily while Clinton the bull rammed at her rear.

Sweat flew off him as his pace quickened. His drenched body sprayed the byre, damping the sawdust. He knew the pain and near exhaustive moments on cumming were near, but drove on to reach his climax. His body shook, his breath was gasps, his sphincter was rock hard and his balls had screwed into huge tight bulbs, held in a wrinkled sac. With a shout - no a bellow, Clinton shot his load. Meg shifted and the other two mooed as Clinton groaned, feeling his seed flow as if he was pissing, such was the relief. Stars shot across his eyes as he reached the last pumping action, ramming as hard as he could at the cow's fanny, until he stopped, shuddered and fell across Meg's back. She moved sideways at the sudden weight and with a farty wet slurp his tool slid out of her cunt and Clinton fell to the floor. His cock ached, his balls seemed pinched and his knob was lividly purple.

Clinton's breath was rasping through him, sawdust stuck to his lathered skin and his legs were jelly as he tried to shuffle away from Meg's slightly disturbed bulk. As usual he nearly blacked out, but he shook his head and kept it low, waiting for the blood to begin its lengthy course back from the softening pole that lay across his thighs and dribbled wetly into the sawdust. Half an hour passed before Clinton could stir and check over his tools. Everything was intact, back to their still incredulous size. His breath was calm and he slowly got on with a gentle cleaning of both Meg and himself as he pondered on his next trip to town.