Pulling the Other One?  

wildcat_n_foxy 42M/47F
13 posts
5/29/2006 9:47 am

Last Read:
5/30/2006 2:24 am

Pulling the Other One?


I had just slipped out of our den, sniffing the air for a scent to follow, when in the distance I could hear the sounds of a loud commotion. Curious (as only a foxy can be), i nosed on through the thick and matted woods and leafy shrubbery to investigate. After jumping many gates and sliding through many narrow and tight spaces, I came to the summit of a large hill and looked down the other side.

Beneath the gently sloping hill was the farm that belonged to cranky old Farmer Giles. He and his equally decrepit wife and their shapeless offspring ran the farmsteading. The smelly smallholding contained a few straggly sheep, a blind bull with homosexual tendencies, a pond with lead-weight ducks, and a chicken coop which held the tastiest birds in the shire.

Farmer Giles was stomping about in his knee-high green wellies, ushering his only daughter whose name was Palm (and she looked like a well-used one also), into the cow-shed in which lurked the bisexual bovine. His ranting and cursing was carried up to my vantage point on the summit.
"If yer so keen to dee milkin' wi' yur lad, then yur can bleedin' well learn ti' milk thar stupid bull!"
The disgusting duo vanished from sight into the cow-shed, where from within came the sounds of heavy breathing, female panting, and the distressed bellowing of a large cow-like creature. I had to know more, so with the deceptive grace of a true voyeur, i slipped down the hill, vaulted the outer dry-stone dyke, and padded lightly across the mud-strewn yard. Bunching my muscles, I leapt to the crumbling wall that the cow-shed abutted onto, and peered into the dank and dripping outhouse.
The scene that i witnessed was one that would have warped my fragile little mind (if my mind had been fragile in the least): Giles was frantically trying to heave his daughter over the cow-feeding trough, and Palm was gasping and frothing at the mouth in energetic overload. The cow was mooing distressingly in fear, its nostrils flaring and its legs trembling.
My mistake. I often confuse the mad cow for the gay bull. T'was Palm that was knee-knocking in fear, while the bull was trying to escape from Farmer Giles as he struggled to position it over the trough. Rolling about on the floor was a galvanised bucket, obviously the recepticle for the semen deposit that Giles expected to extract from the unfortunate animal.
I grinned. (Yes, us foxies can grin you know.) Curling my bushy tail around me, I settled down to watch something which even I had never seen before. Eventually, the bull was successfully mounted, after being placated through the delicate method of inserting a long-handled yard-brush in its backside. The butt-munching bull was now weaving unsteadily on its two hind legs, its eyes appeared glazed and slightly crossed, while it made a gurgling high-pitched moo-like crooning.
Farmer Giles dragged a three-legged milking stool from the within the shadows of the shed, and placed the unsteady seat infront of the orgasmic bull. He turned to Palm and with a thrusting digit - fingered the stool:
"Sit yer arse on dis yer useless slapper, and gi' to the bull wit yer gives yur fuck-buddy".
With his despicable daughter deposited on the stunted tri-pod, Giles stormed out the cow-shed and across to the farmhouse.
Curiousity sated, i made my way back to the relative safety of the woods, and had almost made it the dilapidated wall that surrounded Shady Acres when Farmer Giles' voice reached my ears once more. Casting my head back towards the foul-smelling farmstead, my quivering ears captured the profanities that spilled from the old codgers lips like burning post-vindaloo excrement:
"Yer knows that the bull has a dicky heart yer deef 'n' dumpy dim-wit, and that when yer coaxing the animal, yer to make it a SLOW-JOB!"
Palm's spluttering protest was quickly lost to me as I turned tail and headed for home...

FOXY.

TropicalBill2 64M

10/21/2006 10:50 am

What a way with words Foxy!! I love reading your posts.


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