This is one from my fantasy. Written some time ago and I can't remember what prompted it, but probably a walk in the forest at rutting time. I quite like it though and hope it does the same for you.



The Buck Stops Here by UK Snowy


Late autumn in the forest and I revelled in the rich colours afforded by nature's artist. When the green chlorophyll in the leaves dies and is taken back into the tree, the brilliant reds and golds burst through and bestow the most wondrous colours on one of the best types of land. Woodland, forest, copse all with their own maturity and young blood. Vast phallic pines and conifers, sprinkly female little birches and massive dominant oaks. I'd bought the old farm on the proceeds of my father's bequest and I was comfortably rich, single and free.
I had arrived at the farm with plans to renovate some of the extensive buildings into holiday homes and I needed quality time to think and draw it up. I had my own highly successful architectural practice. Girl friends were scattered in various parts of the country allowing me to indulge in sex whenever I felt. They were always hankering after my cash, I was a big spender, but I didn't mind, I got my cock well and truly into them and made them earn their presents. I needed to settle down and further the family name, but time was on my side being only twenty nine years old.
On my first walk in the surrounding forest, which I had access to from my ninety acres, I had spotted the herd of fallow deer. Thirty or so in a bunch, wandering carefully, always watchful across the big heath and I watched fascinated as they fed and nibbled on the hoof. I'd been alerted to them by some weird grunts and moans, which at first I couldn't place. Then I'd stumbled down wind on the herd, luckily not scaring them and I watched the big bucks in rut, roaring and grunting and fighting, claiming their ground and attracting mates.
Of course it always happened in October/November and I gloried in being able to watch this wonderful display of nature on my doorstep. Often the encounters would entail a lot of clashing and locking of their splay of antlers, then seemingly an amicable split as they compromised. But I had read that they would sometimes fight to a death.
Meanwhile the delicate little does, all presumably in heat, with those fine heads and attractively coloured rumps, with their black stripes and flickering short tails, would feed quietly. Occasionally having to dodge one of the fights, they would merely trip to one side and bend head to grass again. What did fascinate me was the way the agitated bucks waggled their genitals as they strutted and clashed. It was if they were showing off the furry sheath and sharp little dick in its own glory, the control of the waggling and wobbling of it apparently separate to all their muscular bravado elsewhere. Their big balls swayed and swung alarmingly against their inner legs and I wondered if the buck felt the pain I imagined. A buck would then mount a doe, such a massive discrepancy in build and weight always puzzled me, also when I had seen massive bulls on little heifers in the dairy herds. However the female stood quietly while the buck reared, its forelegs straight down her side and with one or two shunts, would get off and start feeding. Quick isn't the word. The doe would shake herself and her little tail and likewise continue her forage for food.
I thought of Toria, the girl I'd been with only three nights earlier. If I'd blown off in fifteen seconds she would have hit the roof. The deer moved on after I saw two other couplings, which I found strangely exciting in a mild sort of way. I rubbed my dick under my jeans and wandered on back to the property.
The measuring and sketches for the alterations and extensions I had in mind, were to be done over several days and I amused myself with frequent walks, lunch and evening, to the numerous good local pubs for my meals.
One evening I was watching TV in the farm house and saw a documentary about the forest and lo and behold up came several shots of the stag rut and frequent matings. I became fixated for some reason, as the camera did linger on the doe's delightful winking fanny and the buck's erections, which I must say, were not much to be admired for all their bulk. A few days later a TV story about a racehorse owner, one who I had spent quite some cash on interested me and this time they showed mares being brought in for covering by stud stallions. It was here that I dived for the video remote and recorded the scenes. Again there were lovingly long sequences of the whole procedure, with sincere commentary from the trainer I followed. From teaser stallions, vets testing the mares for sex by sticking their arms up their cunts, right to the final moment when the stallion would mount her, with an itinerant following of humans monitoring the valuable nags. I idly found myself comparing the stag's fine pointed cocks to the horse's long blunt cocks and ended up, digging my own dick out and hefting it as I watched an Ally McBeal show. Incidentally, it’s a crap fictional US law programme, featuring an ugly stick insect of a woman who likes to constantly, with irritating affectations, disappear into its own attire. However the high point of the series, for me that is, is the appearance of a black woman, Lisa Marie Carson. A work colleague of Ally, she has the most enormous pair of jutting tits. Whether they are natural or silicone, I’m not sure but she wears them high and always displays some deliciously dark cleavage. I could wank all night to them.
This particular episode which I zapped onto, had the stick insect – Ally, supposedly trying to lure a handsome black guy away from Lisa’s character. I mean what dross is this? At least the show had a high proportion of coloureds to make it interesting. Hmm! I needed sex. I rang a few girls up and they were all out of town, so there was no point in going back to the smoke.
I rang my office the next day and settled on staying down here for another day or so as necessary. I could work with the phone, fax, internet and my laptop and they knew where I was.
God knows, I needed some time off.
The villages didn't offer too much in the prospect of girls. The barmaid at the lunchtime pub that day, was OK from the waist up, but she had what might be called elephantine legs. Huge pointed tits with seemingly spectacular nipples, bright sunny disposition and nicely done up, but I just couldn't see myself getting between those ballock crushing trunks.
I walked back to the farm, using many attractive tracks in the forest and suddenly came across the deer. One stag and six does. Again I saw him cover two and then they got my scent and dashed away. I went to where the pretty little females had been f***** and thought of the sex they had had. I could smell them, a musky kind of odour hung in the clearing, it was one of their usual haunts. I looked at the forest floor, but apart from lots of droppings and footprints there was no sign of a boudoir. What did I expect to find? I didn’t know.
Having almost walked in on the sex act, I wondered what she had felt like to the stag. Of course he wouldn't think about it, but I pondered for long periods on my walk back to the farm. As it happened I had venison steaks in another pub that evening and again my mind switched to the herd. I was possibly eating what was once one of them, I could smell them at will and I was becoming expert at their surroundings and activities, having seen them for over five days.
I found myself rubbing my cock surreptitiously under the table as I scanned the pub crowd. A couple of plain girls could have been interesting, purely body wise. One tall and slender, the other medium height and stacked. But they left shortly after I spotted them. One man's wife was smiling at me, had nice legs but she was pig ugly and about fifty, The landlady of the pub was about sixty and scrawny and I gave up in desperation, wandering a touch drunkenly back to the farm. Rustling in the moonlit woods attracted my attention, but I ignored it. Any beast or bird could have been making night sounds and I relished the beautiful utter silence otherwise and the sheer remoteness of my dwelling. It was so private. One particular copse edge came right down to the garden and I walked in past the tumbledown shed.
I wanked to the fleeting video of the horses and then a late night mildly sexy film and cursed my stupidity and set to to ponder about my next f***. The images of the deer flitted constantly through my mind and with another two Macallans inside me, my evil plan unfolded.
I had prime females within reach. They couldn't tell, they couldn't get pregnant, they couldn't sue and they couldn't scream. What’s more they were in heat, at this moment. Excitedly I went to bed and early next day, after a rasher or two of bacon, I was in the old shed checking its structure and sorting good timbers from old.
I worked fanatically all day, foregoing lunch – unusual for a foodie like me. Also unusually for the manual effort I was putting in. Something was driving me on. I cleared the shed and constructed a stout pen. To test it, I belted it with a lump hammer and bashed against it with all my weight, I'm six feet five and fifteen stone (210lbs to my US fellow bestials). I levered at it with my legs and it stood up nicely. From one of the barns, I grabbed some netting and tested it. It was sound. Outside the shed I checked the access from the copse and worked out the distance and then again to where the deer usually rutted. About 500 yards. Hmm! I was strong - but? I got a good sleep, tired yet on a high.
Getting up into the deathly dark morning, at the early alarm set, with my mind whirring on the sense and stupidity of my plan, I was hooked. Suddenly I halted. What the f*** was I doing? This is crazy. How could I smuggle a living creature into my shed? Well smuggling was the easy part, but could I expect to carry it or drag it all that way and would the net work? I thought some more, the idea took over again so under torch light in the shed I added a few weights to the net. I was out of the house before dawn. As light started to appear, a wonderful crisp morning lay ahead as I found my lair and carefully positioned myself in a tree spotted previously and arranged the net low enough.
Downwind, carefully thought about from the studies I had made of the herd's approaches I waited, tense, nervous, excited and not very comfortable. They arrived as a bunch and I watched as they grazed in the secluded opening in the copse, the sun low behind them throwing into silhouette. Several pretty doe's spread about and one solitary buck strutted and grunted. He did his usual saunter round, waggling his sheath and spraying piss in all directions, marking his territory. The does pissed frequently too. It was very erotic somehow.
Quickly he mounted a doe and the usual quickie ensued. The herd seemed to tense slightly as the coupling took place and I seized my wild moment. I dropped the net and luckily it went silently down trapping a doe's hind quarters. The animals scattered, but she fell and lay writhing and I leapt down and fought the flailing legs until I had her fully wrapped in netting.
She seemed to be breathing OK and nothing was broken and I tried to heave her up. Shit! She was heavier than I planned. Again I strained, but in the end I managed to half carry, half drag the cumbersome bundle all the way to the garden and into the shed. I noticed she pissed once, about ten yards from where I'd netted her and then she shat about halfway along the trail. A trail that was clearly marked by the dragging of the loaded net through undergrowth. Her toilet was probably in fear I guessed. It took nearly half an hour and I fretted. I was sweating buckets by the time I arrived and the doe, although breathing OK had quietened. I managed to loosen the net a bit and she kicked out and I chuckled at her gameness as I got my breath.
I started to unravel the netting, keeping her head inside the door to the pen. Again it seemed to take hours, but it was only minutes, yet I was so hyped and impatient, the time seemed to be slipping away. I took a Stanley knife to the net, knowing I had plenty in the barn and the doe finally sprang loose and I managed to shove her butt and got her penned in. The back trap timber was swung into place and I whooped silently at my triumph of stage two. She was trapped closely at her sides by the width of the pen and it worked out luckily to be just the right length so that her butt was close to the back timbers. I slammed the top retaining timber across her back and fixed it, preventing her from leaping.
Taking some time out to catch my breath and contemplate my next move I watched as the doe kicked and fretted in the narrow confines of my creation. Every time I moved she went berserk but she was captive and I took to studying my approach.
It didn't take long, I wanted the triumph to be complete and prove my mastery.
It was male rutting time and I dropped my jeans and shorts, then ignoring the biting chill on my superheated body, cast off my fleece and shirt. We were both naked, except for my boots and socks, the classic male lover! and I stepped to the rear of the pen, my cock amazingly already half hard and without any hand work. I thought for fleeting seconds on why I was so aroused, the latent bestial coming out in me so urgently perhaps, but why?
f*** it! I grabbed each of her hind feet and tethered them at the back corner posts. I removed the rear trap and moved in, putting my hand on her rump and instinctively pressed down. Amazingly she stilled and I glanced at her cunt. She was juicing, sort of squirting and initially I leapt back as her hot piss splashed on me, until I realised she was on heat and my weight must have felt like a buck. I stepped in again and hefted my cock up, rubbing it on her vagina. It was a neat, glistening, little couple of folds of soft black skin with a lovely sort of velvet texture. Above was the round punctured dome of her arsehole and even that looked inviting in my heightened state. Up I came, reliable as ever, rock hard and I aimed my lubing knob straight at the doe's dripping fanny without any further thoughts or worries.
I slid in easily and her heat and tightness were incredible as I settled and just sort of swayed on her, keeping the weight transferred on her delicate hindquarters. I felt her pulse inside and pressed in further and was ballock deep immediately. She was compliant now - joined, covered and mounted whichever way you look at it and she was a breeder pure and simple. A cock in her cunt silenced her, like most randy females and I found I could start to shunt at her silky, musky rear. I'd ignored the odd bits of caked dung round her arse and haunches. Grass and twiglets were caught in various parts of her anatomy and she had a callous on her left rump, but I f***** on. Hard now, giving her all and wanting a good quick f*** for fucks sake. Forget the slow steady build up and foreplay.
I stuffed into her, my seven inch tool reaming the animal's sex, surely far better than those stupid bucks who did it in seconds. She would appreciate this I mused as I panted towards a tremendous climax. My balls spouted my jism and forced it into her and I released the full load, letting the doe have the benefit of a prime male's power. Her delicate little body was racked, her head bashed against the pen as I rammed and rammed until my sac was drained. I fell over her, gasping for breath in the still chilled morning, but I was sweating and steam mixed with vapour from her snout and my mouth. My prick slid from her and I stepped back and viewed the object of my desire. Her little cunt merely closed up, but oozed a milky secretion and I revelled in the bestial sight for a while.
Feeling cold and not a little guilty and ashamed suddenly, I threw on my clothes and left her and made a huge breakfast.
God! I was famished. As I ate, mulling over the mysterious and totally out of character way in which I had acted, my sex drive kicked in again, relishing the ease and very unusual nature of the liaison and I decided that I had a guest for a while. She would definitely be staying some time now. Fed and watered, my enthusiasm growing, I burrowed into the farm buildings and found bags of meal and then spotted, on my way to the shed, that a considerable amount of winter greens were growing. Neglected yes but still sprouts, cabbage and kale grew in abundance. I thanked the previous owner and picked armfuls as I remembered my grand father used to moan about deer raiding his allotment gardens and eating anything, but particularly the greens. On entering the shed, she must have been lying down, the doe got up and went berserk. I scattered the greens under her snout and tied a bucket of meal and a bucket of water to the pen and left her to it, getting on with some professional work.
I sensed that I was strangely subdued now, almost meditative, it was as if a load was off my mind rather than off my ballocks.
Work was fitful, my mind full of my captive and the rights and wrongs of my actions and the consequences of being found out. I blustered inwardly and left my papers and strode boldly to the shed. Who would find out? She went berserk again, but I noticed the greens had virtually disappeared and some of the meal. I placed my fist on her rump and she quietened, it seemed so easy, the right time of her season. I watched her nose twitch and I remembered I hadn't washed since shagging her. Maybe that's what she was sniffing at.
I dropped my pants and waggled my cock. Phew! I could smell it too. I tried something different and stepped to the front of the pen and tentatively stuck my knob end through the bars. The doe seemed to shy away then sniff and soon her rasping little tongue was flitting over my gradually swelling dick head.
She was licking her own pussy odours and it was gorgeous and I fisted my cock, soon hard and wanting to f***. Again - the penetration was easy and I f***** her slowly this time, watching the way her black vaginal flaps dragged over my invading humanity. My climax came and I pumped a second load of cum into the deer's fanny. I hadn't undressed, merely opening my jeans and doing a country sort of thing, typical red neck woodshed f***, I giggled to myself. I wondered how many times the bucks had done her and how my dick compared to their little tools. No contest - from what I'd seen in the copse and the TV documentary, they all had no more than five inches and slender too. Even I wouldn't scream with one of those up me.
I pulled away, new images flitting across my ever more curious mind. This country life was getting to me.
No that would be stupid to try it Martin, I mused as I stuck my dick back in my pants. Looking at the doe who was fretting but undamaged, I reasoned that she seemed to support the big males well enough. OK she had four legs, but look at the dainty little things compared to my massive sports trained thighs. Fucking hell! Martin, you aren't thinking straight, I chastised myself as I left for the house.
The phone rang. It was the office in Birmingham. Urgent and only I could sort it. Shit!! An instant plan suddenly seared through my brain. I went to the shed and made it secure in every way. I found a huge metal tub and filled it with water and placed it inside. I topped up the hardly touched meal bucket and massacred the garden, throwing piles of greens and anything that I thought might interest the deer for a week.
My last act was to release her from the confines of the pen, so she had the fifteen feet square shed to stretch in. She stayed in one corner and I left her, satisfied she was safe yet looked after. I cleaned myself up, although stacking my grubby deer shagging gear to one side, sorted papers, secured the house and drove away. Birmingham was a drag, not helped by what I'd left behind in the country and on my conscience.
I did have a nice interlude one evening with the wife of my client, a pop star. He was a uncouth Northern cunt, but she, equally famous was ready to screw. He was out on a gig and then a bender with his band that night, after we had sorted their building problems, all trivial, so Patsy and I shagged the night away and does she like it up the arse! Also she actually had three fingers up mine at one point, although I did stop her sticking a champagne bottle into me. However those new feelings she aroused were quite nice for a first time and intrigued and alerted me to some previous inner musings. I was away five days including some days at head office, but soon I was thrashing down the motorway to the farm. During one evening, I had conceived some plans and sketched the ideas and filed them carefully for when I could return to my forest retreat.
The last few miles of winding tracks and lanes were tedious, but I couldn't hurry. Dangerous bends abounded and not wishing to f*** myself up in a ditch or crash into a tractor before getting there I took it carefully. Arriving at five, it was already dark. I ignored mail on the mat and food needs and changed quickly into the smelly clothing and rushed to the shed in high anticipation as if on a first date.
You stupid fucker, I thought to myself, but still I trotted on..
I could hear scuffling and peered in through cracks in the timbers. She had scented me and was thrashing about, but seemed in good condition.
I went in, noticing the water looked grubby, the greens were scattered around and the meal bucket was upturned. Her shit was everywhere, but it was an acceptable smell. Deer, not being carnivores, shat decent stuff, compared to the mess and stench that dogs and cats leave. I found myself muttering and cooing to her as I sorted the pen. She flitted from one corner to the other as I worked. As I approached to catch her, she went berserk as usual. I stumbled about, falling to the floor several times on missing her flight, but soon I managed to corner her and throw my weight at her. I bundled her into the pen and immediately stripped off my shit stained jeans, finding that the thrill of the chase after the expectancy had got me hard. My dick sprung out and I chuckled and muttered.
"Here's another load you little darling. Feel this in your cunt again compared to that boyo out in the woods."
The doe sprayed me as I leaned on her rump and I wallowed in the hot fountain, rubbing it on my belly and legs. In the darkness, although my eyes eased to it, I was safe and I mounted her with ease and began a slow f***. I stopped several times and fingered the labial area round my dick, whilst pulsing it inside her tightness. I pushed a finger at her arsehole and the rectal fibres subsided and I buried my finger into the miry hole. I rubbed it on my tee shirt as I took up the shagging. I tried to position myself over her as I'd seen the buck's, finding she took my weight comfortably. It gave me an increased angle and I tensed then shafted her hard, fucking my cum into her animal twat and cheering for joy in my new found sex life.
Afterwards, I rubbed my tee shirt in her shit and over her rump, wiping the mess round her vagina carefully. Dressing completely I gathered up some of her shit into a bucket and finished off rolling in the straw and earth of the shed. I sweated as I modified some of the timbers, realising my sketches were still in the car but the ideas were bright in my mind. I pushed her into the newly modelled pen. I went into the kitchen and had a couple of malts and thought about the next daring and potentially lethal stage of my plan. Starving hungry but higher than drugs could ever take me, it didn't take long and I went to the copse, the darkness comforting in it’s privacy and my frequent trips nudging my memory, showing me the way.
From a bucket, I scattered a trail of her shit from the clearing where the herd gathered, to the garden. I brushed my tee shirt on the bushes and grass. I rolled in the earth at a couple of spots too. It felt strangely removed from life, trance like.
One half of my cultured, sophisticated, university trained brain yelling STOP. The other half, my basic instincts, my curiosity, my previously hidden bizarre depths screaming GO.
I slept fitfully in the shed, close to her pen. I was wrapped in old horse rugs, lying on a broken bale of straw on the floor and scratched furiously, realising the doe and the blankets were probably ridden with fleas. There was a kind of warmth in there. Our body warmth jelled and I woke about five. It was mild and the air was heavy.
I left my jeans off as I gathered another bucket full of shit, then sat and wriggled my butt in the soiled damp earth immediately behind the doe. Slipping into the copse, dragging my jeans I quickly got to the clearing. I waited for maybe thirty minutes and then heard the roar of the stags and nearly ran home - a frightened man. The herd gingerly stepped into the clearing.
The buck wandered round, then another one dared to intrude. They immediately clashed and the twenty or so females scattered as the battle raged. In the meantime another buck sneaked in and separated a female and had his way with her. It was all go and my mind raced. I was one of them, one of the herd and looking to mate, but I was playing a distinctly different role to the powerful animals fighting.
Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the sneaky buck, which was sauntering towards the path I was sheltered on. His snout rippled, he bent to some of the shit, then sniffed at a bush. He flicked both ears and I noticed a chunk missing from his right ear, probably the damage from a fight. f***! my plan was working as he took more steps and found more shit. Then he found the place I reckoned the doe had pissed, a week ago when I'd captured her. My heart raced as he took the bait and walked slowly, carefully, yet imperiously along the path. His antlers were flat, rounded at the ends, he couldn't pierce me surely - well not with those.
I watched him wobble his sheath, the furry undercarriage spraying piss and he snorted quietly. I went on ahead, knowingly downwind and hoping the stench steeped in my pores would outweigh the human odours. I was careful as he followed my shrewd trail. I reached the path before him and waited. He came into view and nearly spooked on seeing me, but his nostrils twitched, his lips curled and he stepped forward his head up and down, checking me and then the smeggy trail on the forest floor. I kept on well ahead of him, watching my back and my step in the gloom, but he followed keeping a distance and my heart was pounding. I nearly pissed myself with excitement as I reached the garden. He stopped for quite a while, suddenly out in the open, until my little lady gave out one of her little squeaky snorts.
The buck strutted, snorted and roared and sprayed my withering shrubs with his piss. I admired his spectacular undercarriage, the great sac of balls swaying heavily and I feared for my safety for seconds. But I entered the shed. She was all alert. She must have scented him and sprayed as I walked in and was skittering within the pen timbers. The soaking straw behind her was perfect and I gathered it and stuffed it all round my buttocks. Some of her recent soft creamy shite was perfect for my arse lubrication. I didn’t want to be dry for the grand entrance. I penetrated her juicy little cunt and held my breath, caught in time as I held her rump, dissuaded myself from fucking her and waited. I could near noises, even occasional chomping and I was dismayed that maybe this new verdant feeding ground was more of a temptation than....than...ME.
‘f*** it Martin! Don't be fucking stupid’, my mind was screaming and I was near to forgetting the whole thing as the buck's head appeared at the door. I lay on her, baring my butt in an offering to the beast. The doe stiffened under me, gripping my cock and she sprayed. My plug would never have kept in the flow and the hot juices flowed over me, down my legs, it’s warmth somehow comforting and increasing my attraction hopefully. Her hormonal spray confirmed my actions. He grunted, stepped in again and saw her head stretching beyond mine as I lay on her back.
My arms were stiff along the pen top and I lay lower, daring not to look and turn and dissuade him and I squirmed as suddenly I felt his hot breath blowing on my naked butt. God! it was lovely as I felt his tongue lick my crack, then without warning he shuffled forward, reared and I felt his weight, his forelegs round me, hanging over the pen and a warm wet thing nudging at my arse. I relaxed my sphincter as he pushed and let his cock borrow into me It was amazing how these huge brutes find the slot more or less first time.
Sheeeeet! I mean Sheeeeeeeeeet!!!!!
It was wonderfully painful, but I lay on the doe as the buck snorted, shuffled forward once more and dug it in to the hilt. I had no clue as to how long it was, but guessed maybe five/six inches and not a great stretcher. I mean I'm not used to things in my arse but it was no sweat really. The buck shunted three or four times and we all rocked together until suddenly my arse was sluiced with his cum.
f***! There was gallons of the stuff and I felt it curdling round my bowels as he dropped off. There had been no pain from his weight, no anger had been vented and he just wandered round the shed then walked out as I dared to glance behind. I heard chomping once more then silence as I took stock of the situation. My arse was seriously leaking, but my cock was rigid and my ballocks were charged more than at any other time in my life. I shafted that little princess like there was no tomorrow, my thighs squeaking and slopping as the shagging action let the stag's jism slide from my anus. On spending tremendously into her, I reached behind and gathered some of his cum and smeared it round her cunt lips, revelling in the joint mating. She would have no young of mine, at least - and I certainly wouldn't. I chuckled as my cock softened and slithered out. For the first time, I bent and licked at her fanny. It was very sloppy and soft and I felt she was very young, but who knows - or cares? On my knees, even more of his stuff poured out of me and I reached behind to feel at my hole. Nothing wrong there apart from slightly protruding muscle. The sort of thing that happens when you have a had truly big dump and I wallowed in the doe's greasy minge for a long time.
As I said, no damage, no pain and I wasn't marked. Incredible. Yes incredibly risky Martin you daft bastard, I scolded inwardly as my ardour gradually waned and I got up and pulled my very grubby jeans on. It was only to reach the house and soon I was in the bath. I did have a couple of ticks on me which I got out easily. Several flea bites irritated my hot bathed skin, but I treated them with cream. My clothes all went into a sealed bag and put in the shed.
Saturday morning, I'd f***** a deer and a deer had f***** me and it was only six thirty. I had another hearty breakfast then went to bed. I was tired, mainly because of my week's work, I was elated at the success of my mission, but I was also wary and thoughtful at the enormity of it all. I fell asleep.
Later that day, I shagged her again, twice. Then again in the evening when I returned from the pub. Suddenly the barmaid with the log like shanks seemed more attractive, was I lowering my standards? Or was I thinking more of how she would perform rather than what she looked like. After all, the deer was pretty, but...........
Sunday passed much the same as Saturday, with lots of shagging in the shed. The doe was healthy, well fed and gradually settling rather than spooking when I arrived.
I let her go in the evening.
Roped, I led her, not without difficulty, midway along the path and she scampered off as I watched her pretty butt disappear into the undergrowth. Will I do it again? I have done several times, not always with the same one, the catching depends who is under the net, but they all give me the same perfect f*** without any hangups or baggage. I have got more flea bites than I should. Ticks are a constant worry and the deer are not rutting now.
The drawings are complete for the building work, so soon contractors will move in. I've modified the plans a huge amount, to give me privacy, but to do so it's costing me a fortune. I couldn't persuade another buck into my lair, and will wait for next autumn but I've since acquired a pair of Shetland ponies. He is handsome and strong and she is ever so pretty.

END

Seems like I have read this one somewhere else in my ramblings on the net.
I gave you a 10. Have a good day, and give us some more of your writings. Thank you for posting.

Yes OldSaltBlock, you could well have read it if you visit asstr. It's definitely mine and has been in there for some time. Thanks anyway.

Thanks for the head's up. Great story. :beer:

Nice story and different. Thanks for sharing. Another 10 for you.

good story. ill give it a 9 of ten

too u uk i give my longest answer i had a caribou doe once boy she was hot loved it and so did she even out of rut we went at it had too stop when i moved but man she was a blast we went at it for 4 years and i not even penned her 10-10-10 :rock:

This post has been edited by bluetiger on Apr 3 2008, 04:13 AM

Upon seeing this one out again, I paid you another 10. Still like this story. Good approach too. Please continue. You have a good writing style.