The farmhouse leaking roof
Lets in a small trickle
A tin washing bowl collects the drips
while Ben strips off his clothes
from the field. Toned muscles flex
as he tugs at his boots. He falls over
and lands with a thud on his backside.
Laughing, he pulls off his socks and then
jumps into bed and under the duvet where
he blows a raspberry on my stomach. A shiver travels outwards from that spot and the thrill is upon me again. His head pops out from the covers just above mine and his white teeth are smiling.
‘Hello!’ he smiles at me before I can say hello back he is reaching for a condom
and unwrapping it. Then he is inside me gently thrusting with small repeated strokes that send pulses of pleasure up my back and through to the extremities of me.
‘Say my name’ I say to him and he says it.
He bends his head down to kiss my chest and hot welts appear raising the skin under my fur. His silver crucifix touches and burns the hairs of my deep, rich, creamy, grey coat. ‘Faster’ I say, ‘faster’ and he goes deeper and harder banging me like a dustbin.
I am growling loudly now and I grip him with my hands leaving punctures in his sides. My tail swishes with pleasure and bucks in time with him. He is now really going wild.
A phone goes off, ignored. The tin pot goes flying to the floor. A howl and then a whimper and it’s over.
I roll out from underneath him and lie down on the floor and lick myself clean while he snores on the bed.
Above the rain is falling like nails on the roof. I get up and fix myself something to eat, dead and fresh, and let out a sigh and wonder if I will ever find my way back to the pack.
To be continued…