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The skunk paused to perk an ear out to the night, listening to the sound of a car passing by on the distant farm road. All the way out here across two shallow hills and through a thin stand of trees he could no longer make out the crunch of gravel or the rumble of the engine, but still knew the sound nonetheless, and afterwards remained still while the gentle wind danced around him, trying to find out if anything else would follow.

Finally he relaxed, or at least relaxed as much as he could out here, and continued on his way. It was important that he remained turned away from the road or at least closed his eyes, so that the glare of headlights would not ruin his slowly growing night vision; when he glanced down he could make out fallen branches, flattened patches of grass, and then of course the occasional pile in varying degrees of dry crustiness.

These increased in frequency the further into the pasture he went, having ducked in between a limp section of the barbed wire fence near a section of low brush that probably was still private property. Julan had discovered this spot while out on one of his daily walks the previous summer, and had worked up the courage to travel further and further into the apparently open grassland beyond, always pushing a little bit further into the evening where he felt as though he could explore under the cover of night…

...until, a few months back, a noise behind and to the right of him had sent a shock through his body and kicked his heart into his throat. He still remembered the anxiousness and fear that had pounded through him, and as he trudged along the now-familiar path tonight, couldn't help but smirk at his naive foolishness – for when he had turned, slowly so as not to aggravate whatever shotgun-toting rancher or wild animal was there, instead he had come face to face with the broad, vaguely curious face of one of the ranch's livestock cows. He had seen them occupying the pasture before, but had never given them more than a second thought; but finally coming face to face with one, and then more as she had stepped forward, bowed her head, then sniffed at him… he couldn't quite explain it.

But it hadn't been difficult at all to lift a paw up against her broad chest, and to turn his head when she nosed in along his neck and taken her time in figuring out just who this stranger in her pasture was. He remembered grimacing against the puffs of hot, dank breath, and the slimy stickiness of dripping drool as she had made her way around his back, his shoulder, and then his front… and then, of course, he remembered the embarrassment, the humiliation, the reluctance at the arousal that had begun to stir in him from her investigations. So that first night he had patted her on the head, looked her in the eyes, thought to say something, figured what would be the point? and then headed on his way.

And then three nights later he came back, and found the patterns along her body by the light of the moon, and had spent a little more time with her. Then again three nights after that, and two nights after that, until it became routine, and now-

Now he knew where to expect her, since she waited for him at the exact same spot: out there in the field, within view of both the barn and the distant road, in the night-shade of a twisted mesquite tree. Daisy, the skunk called her, not because that was her actual name but rather because he thought it fit her, and she did indeed respond to it; she was smarter than she let on, often guiding him around herself, clearly signaling to him what she wanted, where she wanted it, and when, and often she was the one to lead the pace of their times spent together, and… as he crested the next rise, casting his gaze down across the pasture towards the distant, smudged silhouette of the darkened barn at the other side of the field, he saw that lone-standing mesquite – and the broad, lumpy shape of the cow waiting underneath it.

From here he could see the horns atop her head, the blocky yet rounded forms of her hefty body, the swish and swing of her paintbrush tail… the full, heavy sag of plump, sizable udders underneath. Julan paused where he stood, taking a moment to both catch his breath and try to slow his heart, for no matter how many times he came to meet her it still filled him with that same powerful burst of excitement mixed with nervousness, and then started his way down towards her.

And, just like she did for each of his visits, at first she pretended not to notice him, instead showing her broad side and continuing to munch at the grass and low-lying mustard by her hooves. But then when he crossed about half the distance to her, Daisy raised her head again, and turned towards him, and squared her forelegs in eager anticipation; Julan couldn't help but pick up his pace along the hill's shallow decline until he came to a slow jog towards her. In the past few months he had started bringing along a small bag with snacks for both of them, and then extra water for him since it was not unusual for him to end up dehydrated; as he approached he hoisted the bag up off his shoulder, rested it by its usual spot at the foot of the tree, stepped forward with both of his arms out… and then received the huge beast in a warm, surprisingly gentle embrace, the cow pressing her chest up against his and then hooking her strong neck around his back.

“Hey there, beautiful," he murmured, still conscious of making too much noise; I haven't made it this far by being careless. “You know my schedule. You knew I'd be back. Yeah?"

Daisy hoisted a front hoof and padded at the ground in that way she did. Julan had done some reading and research in the time since she and him had begun seeing each other – like we're fucking dating, he thought with a scoff, then nuzzled in against the sleek, surprisingly soft texture of her pelt again, crusted as it was with flecks of mud and dirt and whatever else – and as far as he could tell, that usually signified excitement, or impatience.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm happy to see you, too." He swallowed, mouth already watering: both knew what would come next, and as the skunk drew back, tilted his head, and then redirected himself towards hers, he could tell that she wanted it as much as he did. It was a small, subtle thing, body language crossed with a general sense of familiarity crossed with something else indescribable, but Julan wet his lips, brought his paws up along the broad shape of her snout, came closer, planted a soft, slow kiss to the front of her nose, exactly as slimy as he had expected… and then Daisy moved to reciprocate.

Despite Julan's own personal enjoyment, there still came the reflexive, bodily response first: the slight twitch of his shoulders, the jerk back and to the side, the pressure of a half-gag building up at the back of his throat. But then the beast's huge, broad tongue flipped his lip up, and bumped against his teeth and gums, and then slipped into his mouth – and he had to stretch his jaw around the girth of the thick, powerful muscle, at least as wide around as his entire wrist.

Immediately the skunk melted in against her, arms coming forward to reach around Daisy's broad shoulders, at once pulling himself in closer. Cow saliva had certainly never been a scent and taste that he had thought would work him up in the way that he did, but nearly before he felt the first thick, frothy wad of drool slap against his chin, he was already squirming in his own pants. One of his paws came forward, rubbed across the corner of Daisy's mouth, teased a thumb beneath the loose, leathery flaps of her lips and into intense wet heat inside; Julan closed his eyes, sighed out against her much larger snout, then took in another breath through his mouth filled to almost brimming with her tongue… and tasted nothing but her, and her drool, and her breath as she huffed out against him.

It had a texture to it, too. Something like a dog's tongue, it had that strange combination of feeling both dry and wet at the same time, so that it gripped and dragged along Julan's own, and at the roof of his mouth, and the sides of his gums, and insides of his lips when he pursed around it and sucked, drawing her right back into the back of his throat again. When he swallowed it was mostly her drool that he tasted, flecked and specked with bits of grass or hay caught between broad, flat teeth; he tilted his head to the side, sighed out in between the kiss, and then moved himself forward again, more drawing his head in around her tongue instead of moving to meet her lips.

She knows me by now, he thought, eyes fluttering open for a fraction of a second to see her staring back at him. She knows I really like this. And she wants me to feel this way, so she brings me in and gives me what I want, since she wants it too, and… and coherent thought dribbled away again for another moment when the cow curled her tongue up against the roof of his mouth, drew it back out of the kiss and into her own, and then slopped it right back out again. It squished against his lips, smeared him in sticky, slimy drool, worked its way in between lips and teeth and over his own tongue – and once again forced his jaw open where he could suckle around it, his own breath coming and going in quick, unsteady bursts, each exhalation tinted with the warmth of a needy moan.

One time I got off just by sucking on her tongue… he recalled: that had been one of the first times he had kissed her, when anxious curiosity had finally boiled over into fervent determination. In the heat of the moment, the sparkling, flaring excitement of finally taking that step, barely two strokes had been enough to get him there after twitching, throbbing, grinding, leaking into his pants, and even now as he reached down to undo his pants fly he could feel some of that same overbearing arousal. Each time he breathed in through his nose, another thick, dank wave of bovine drool washed across his senses: rich yet flat, heady, full, distantly acrid, a touch bitter.

It had a tendency to soak into his fur and dry there, so that even through a shower he could still smell it…

As he kissed her, he pressed his paw in along her snout as well, squishing her loose, plump lips against his own muzzle. Julan lifted up a bit, let her tongue sag out of his mouth and caress his chin, and then sucked on her upper lip there, pulling the heavy, overlapping wrinkles of skin into his own for a moment, then let then drop free. He swallowed again, then did so once more, and finally pulled all the way back out of the kiss, arousal flaring again with the thick, foggy strand of mixed drool that sagged down between them. Before he could stop himself he leaned forward and sucked at that hanging rope, then jerked back when it broke free and smacked against his chin and chest – and still slurped it in like a limp noodle, the drool already cooling in the air.

“God, I missed you…" he rumbled, and took a moment to lean forward and nudge his forehead to hers. Daisy nuzzled back against him, paintbrush tail still swaying, batting at the ever-constant flies. Then, though, she nuzzled along his neck and down to his chest, broad lips and teeth pulling at his shirt. The skunk giggled, shimmying out of his pants, tugging his underwear forward around his already fully hard shaft, and then moved to lift his shirt off as well. “And seems like you missed me, too, huh? Jeez, just – give me a minute, I didn't bring any spare clothes this time…"

One time Daisy had been so eager to get at him that she had literally torn the clothing from his body, leaving smears of sticky saliva across his fur. He had had to jog home that night with his only a bare scrap of his underwear left, and tossed the remaining shreds of his clothes into a runoff ditch by the side of the road; between the time spent picking burrs and flecks of grass out of his thick fur and tail, and the extra-intense shower afterwards for how thoroughly the cow had treated him, he ended up getting to bed just before the sunrise.

Maybe tonight will be the same, he thought, rubbing a paw along the back of Daisy's head as she nuzzled down his now bared chest. Her breath puffed hot and damp through his thick fur, sending sweet electric tingles across the skin underneath; of course he still remembered the first time he had felt her lips and tongue around him as well – there was no way he could forget – with the surprising care and softness, the same fear and nervousness and anxiety mixing with exhilaration like nothing he had ever felt before as the cow had sniffed at his shaft, dragged that broad, thick, smooth tongue across him, and then surrounded him in sweet, succulent heat… and tonight she nudged at him, nosed in a little bit, flared her nostrils, huffed, did so again – Julan couldn't help but grind forward against her – but then lifted up and away.

For a quick second, disappointment flared within the skunk, but then it fizzled away as soon as it appeared. By now he knew that he could never have a dull night with Daisy, and whatever she wanted to do would be more than good enough for him; and sure enough she regarded him with those deep, cool eyes a moment longer, jaw working side to side in chewing her last mouthful of fresh grass, then moved to step away from the tree.

Not away, Julan noticed a moment later, but around. He took a step back to allow her the space, and then was already on his way down to his knees even before she had fully faced her wide backside to him. He didn't even need to lean in all the way to be able to sense the scent radiating off of her, that thick, high, acrid richness that seemed to draw the flies, even as he tried to bat them away; I don't blame y'all, he thought distantly, now with blades of that same grass pricking up across his knees in the field; I can hardly keep myself away from her, too…

The worst part about coming out to meet her like this was that her size put her at an awkward spot for him, where her hind end stood too far above the ground for him to remain fully upright, but too high for him to easily reach when kneeling. Julan licked his lips again and swallowed, already able to feel the way the animal's saliva had begun to crust over his maw, and then brought his paws up across the sides of her hindlegs.

There he could feel the strength of her body, the tight power of muscle and tendon… the loose, almost saggy quality of her skin, malleable, stretchy to accommodate such movements. Julan swallowed again, open-mouthed, and continued upwards, nuzzling the side of his face against her rear haunch; he drew in a slow, steady breath through both his nose and mouth, tasting her just as he smelled her, that heavy, earthy spice tickling in the back of his throat. What initially flooded him with reluctance, distaste, and slight disgust, now instead dispersed a sweet, shivering indulgence throughout his senses, though all of those same notes still remained: he couldn't help but grimace as flecks and flakes of dried something-or-other crusted off against the fur of his cheek when he nuzzled closer, and as that stench became higher and sharper.

Fresher, he thought; he kept his eyes open as he came closer, wanting to see those flecks caught in between heavy, sagging wrinkles of loose skin, wanting to watch the way her backside jiggled and bounced with any little movement, wanting to be able to pick out where little wiry, ghostly hairs curled out from the velvet-suede skin, darkened, dampened, stained.

“You're so eager… already…" he murmured, drawing in another breath… tasting the distinct, warm weight of the thick, hefty sex sagging down among those folds of damp meat, practically steaming in the still night air. One paw resting across her rear, he pinched the other thumb to his fingers and ran them in along that thick center wrinkle, then gave a small push to stretch apart the damp, sticky lips; they smacked apart, showed a flash of luscious, rich pink inside, and then clapped shut again, leaving his fingertips smeared in the sticky wetness of her growing arousal.

But that was for later. Julan swallowed yet again, hard cock throbbing between his legs and already dribbling a bead of pre, and shifted up a little bit further. He continued up with that paw, fingers following the lines of heavy wrinkles, spreading out, coming in again, spreading out… centering in at the slack, sagging overhanging of her tailhole, folding down across itself, glistening with captured grease and the sweat of the day.

But even so, even with the dank, fervid warmth trickling down across him like further rivulets of that same clinging grease, even with his nose stinging, eyes watering a bit, and mouth quirking at the corner, Julan still continued up and forward… and brushed first his nose against the wet-velvet skin there, with his lips soon to follow. No matter what, this was still her, still Daisy – and this was another way he had come to identify her, literally by scent: all cows smelled similar, that much was true, but there was just something about her that he could pick out with his eyes closed, some distinct character to her musk and her aroma that just did so much more for him than any others. There had even been a few nights where he had wandered the vast eighty-something acre pasture searching for her, stopping by some cow that might have been her, then crouching down to greet her only to discover his error, apologize, and go on his way. After her, he wasn't all that interested in any of the others.

The skunk closed his eyes again, nuzzled up against the full, plump, sagging lips of her massive tailhole, took in another slow, simmering breath through flared nostrils… and then shoved himself forward, wreathing himself in slick, greasy folds of flesh, wet, tacky, sticky the deeper he went. The first few times he had done this had, naturally, come with further waves of that reluctance and slight shame, but now the arousal and desire to please her as well as himself overwhelmed everything else, and he knew that she loved this as much as he did.

It was in the way the cow lifted her head, squared her hindlegs, and pushed down and back against him; it was in how she hoisted her tail up and out of the way, and pushed just enough for the outer rim of her tailhole to begin to spread and blossom, lips pattering apart to give way to rich, glistening folds of wet meat inside; it was in how she deliberately tried to rock and grind back against him once Julan started in his rhythm, tongue flicking out across the wrinkles of her pucker, wiping off her sweat and scent to replace it with his own drool, his mouth, his head, his lungs, his belly all filling with the steam of her presence. Often he would just get lost back here, digging his head deeper against her, dragging his lips and tongue back and forth across her broad backside; sometimes he would purse his lips and suck a section of the pliable skin into his mouth to focus there, then would pull free, swallow three or four times to clear the gathering muck, and then move on to another, always coming closer to the luscious center…

...which he was still surprised parted so easily for him, offering the barest resistance against the skunk's tongue, his lips, his nose, his snout. There he sucked at her from inside, simmering within the steamy heat of her rump, slimy slickness creeping down his fur, pooling underneath his tongue, dripping down his throat each time he sucked and swallowed. One paw remained up at her flat haunch while the other made its way down across the labyrinth of loose, wrinkly flesh, now dripping with sweat, arousal, drool, and who knows what else; Julan swallowed again, swirled his tongue out, tilted his head, drew back so that he could seal his lips around her tailhole – which would always be a distant dream: this end of her was just far too voluminous – and suck from outside, while again he pinched his fingers and thumb together, stroked up and down across the luscious velvet lips of her sex, and then smoothly sank in.

In front of him the beast rumbled deep within her chest and adjusted her stance again, hindlegs going out further, rump coming down… welcoming him in, wanting him deeper. So the skunk obliged, for the moment pulling away from her tailhole to focus with his paw: it squelched, slurped, and slopped as he pressed in, fingers stretching at her rubbery lips, knuckles nudging against her, then bumping in. Julan knew from experience that she could take him all the way to the elbow, and then even further if he went for her tailhole instead – and the temptation was certainly there: he leaned in closer, nuzzled up alongside the hot, wet rim of her sex parting out around his now buried wrist, hooked his tongue out to catch the oozing dribbles of her arousal, and teased his other paw up at her now saliva-slickened tailhole, clenching, flexing, puckering out in anticipation of another, deeper kiss just above. The temptation was there.

But it had been a while since he had really, truly felt her – about a full week. Far too long. Murmuring soft words of encouragement and affection, the rich, meaty scent of her dripping arousal steaming back around him, his wrist slipped free, fur now streaked and smeared in that same slick wetness, then pressed in again. The flesh surrounding her lips pressed inward with the pressure, stretched, then slid smoothly back out when he pressed in, sleek inner walls sucking in around him; Daisy rumbled again and shivered, and Julan reached up to stroke across her pelt. He could feel the desire and need thrumming through her as she clenched around him, tailhole sucking inwards, and then pushed out again, wanting that same sensation all over again.

So again he obliged, shoulder bunching with the effort of punching into her, then pulling back out again. Then again, and again, each time with more frothy wetness sputtering around him as her arousal grew, matting down his fur, rolling towards his elbow. Julan pressed his muzzle in against her, now pulling his paw out to spread her from the far side, digging his still-wet nose and lips in against the revealed silken pink inner flesh.

Just as he slurped his tongue along sensitive inner walls, so too did he draw in a deep, slow breath of Daisy's rich, overpowering internal musk. It carried that high, familiar sting of barnyard grassiness, paired with the usual livestock bitter acridity, though here Julan felt it crossed with that distinct note of her that drove him wild. Between his legs his hard shaft twitched, throbbed, bounced; he swallowed, dropped his jaw, dug deeper into her again, and then pulled back out, the cow's wet inner walls sucking back at him, wanting him deeper all over again. Already he felt the building pressure of his own arousal, the flame growing inside of him… and to think I haven't even touched myself yet.

The skunk remained here for a while longer, dragging his tongue up and across and over her, sucking free the sticky, gooey strands of slime that oozed from the animal's sex, feeling her warmth coat his throat and trickle down into his belly. When he did finally pull himself away, further thick strands sagged down, broke, swung against his jaw and chest. Still, though, Daisy took a half-step back to nudge her saliva-soaked backside against him, full lips of her swollen, heavy sex smushing against his cheek, matting down his fur even further.

“Daisy!" he spluttered, swirling his tongue across his lips to smear her taste off. “Daisy, yeah, I – hang on, girl, I'm… gonna…"

Panting softly, Julan rose to his full height, wobbled, and reached out to lean against the mesquite tree, cognizant of the palm-length spines jutting from the branches overhead. For a moment he just stood there, eyes wrenched shut, other paw pressing against the end of his snout so he could huff the scent of her tailhole and sex out of his fur; he drew a deep breath through his nose, throbbed, sighed it back out through his mouth, then drew in again, starting to grind forward into the air, each time twitching again, feeling himself come closer and closer.

It's – crazy how much she works me up, and… He opened his eyes and looked down at the cow in front of him, and at the way she looked back over her shoulder at him, and lifted her hind end towards his body, and padded at the ground in that same urgent impatience. And how much I do the same for her, now that I've spent so much time with her…

Carefully, Julan stepped closer to the tree, wiped off some of the loose bark and dirt that stuck to the greasy mucus coating his paw – that was the one that had plunged past the wrist inside of her – then took the step and a half up along a protruding root by the base. This lifted him up relative to the cow, who yet again rolled her head over her shoulder, glanced back at him, and then adjusted how she stood so that her full backside still faced him, and took another step back – and bumped right up against the skunk's bare waist, the base of his hard shaft nudging up along the dock of her tail.

Sweet, succulent heat swept around him as he grinded into the saliva- and sweat-slickened folds of flesh there, her scent once again wafting up to wrap around him. He groaned, tilted his head back, and thrust forward again, nudging against her impressive weight and soft solidity; she made a little noise in response as well, as though teasing him back through his desire.

“Yeah, yeah," he murmured, and drew back again. Julan lifted her tail up and out of the way with one paw and angled himself down with the other, giving his shaft a few slow, gentle, careful strokes; he circled his head around her tailhole, freely dragging it in between folds and wrinkles, shivering, trembling with the intensity of the sensation – and I haven't even slid inside of her yet. “I know, beautiful. Just… give me a minute, and I…"

He had to slip his thumb all the way to the base inside of her, pressing out against thick, dense inner walls, to tug the lips of her sex open – and when he did so it audibly smacked again, silken wetness parting away from itself, rugged leather black once more giving way to rich, succulent pink. As soon as he spread her open, he could feel that steamy heat wafting up again, already enough to make him twitch again; Julan groaned with anticipation, bit his lip, cast one more glance around the vast, open pasture around them – though he knew at this point there was no way he would stop for anything – then pressed down at the base of his cock again, lining himself up with Daisy's sleek, silken, inviting warmth… and started to sink in.

She welcomed him easily, inner walls slurping around his shaft as easily as they had his entire paw, still sucking in around him, drawing him deeper, coating him in the same thick slickness that he could still feel clinging to the back of his throat. One quick thrust and already the skunk buried himself to the base, balls swinging forward to nudge against the extended sag of her hanging sex and stick there, fur soaking in her dripping fluids.

Julan swallowed again, shuddered, and then leaned forward to rest his weight across her, paws and arms reaching along her blocky form. “God, you feel… so…" he breathed, voice trembling; the skunk tilted his head, buried his muzzle against the stiff, coarse yet smooth texture of her pelt, once again drew in a lungful of the scent of farm animal, and then began to slowly work his hips, still buried inside of her. Her hind end slurped and slopped against him, all of those wet folds of skin sucking in against his hips; he gritted his teeth, dug his fingers into her pelt, worked himself in rhythm.

The sheer size difference between the two meant that Julan met next to no resistance each time he sank inside of her, her loose, wet walls slurping easily around his length, trembling with a faint clench, and then relaxing again, but still the cow shifted and rumbled with delight at the union. Julan rocked himself forward and back against her, each time drawing out further strands of thick, sticky arousal across his fur, until he could feel it rolling down his sack and plopping across the root of the tree upon which he stood; he straightened up, tilted his head back, sighed out to the sky, and then braced himself against her while he continued, hips smacking against her vast backside.

Simply put, Daisy felt better than anything else he had ever done. This thought rocketed back into the skunk's awareness every time he slid into her warm depths, and felt the beast squeezing and shivering and sloshing around him; it was all he could think about after he returned home later in the night – or in the morning, as things usually went – and how much he missed the sensation already, how it was intoxicating, invigorating, nearly addicting.

But, naturally, it wasn't just the sensation of the act. The skunk thrust forward again, held there, then let his breath out as a low, shuddering moan, letting himself twitch and throb inside of her, while the cow rolled her head over her other shoulder again and pressed back. It was the fact that it was her, that he knew her, and recognized her, and could literally pick her out from the herd if he needed to. The connection was there, felt in between the two of them, in the way that she looked back at him, and grinded against him, and huffed and panted just as he did, and how she squeezed and clenched and pushed in wanting him to come closer and closer, until-

It was always fast with her. Julan threw his head back again, then wrenched himself forward, fingers grasping at the protruding angles of her hips. He clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, tightened down around that sweet, hot pressure boiling from deep inside, then thrust against the cow again, and again, and again – and then felt her reciprocate all over again, her slick, slimy heat sucking up around him, drawing out his finish… until the first buck pounded through his body, and all of that held breath exploded out in a quick, tense moan. He felt the force of his orgasm ricochet up through his spine, at once forcing him upright with one spurt, then yanking him forward with another, and pushing him back with another; still he remained with his hips pushing up against her, rocking gently up and down as she milked him.

No matter how many times he did this with her, each one felt just as mindblowing as the last. Still throbbing, still spurting out little squirts of his finish inside, the skunk slouched forward over her, knowing that she would be able to support his weight. He remained there for a moment, catching his breath tinted with the rich, inviting scent of bovine livestock, while the world around him slowly stopped spinning… and then Daisy clenched again, the loose, dripping lips and folds of her sex lifting up against him, and his legs nearly went out from underneath him.

“God… you…" he murmured into her pelt. With effort Julan managed to lift himself upright, then braced his paws against her, enjoyed the sticky, slimy warmth a moment longer… and pulled himself out with a slow, wet shlurp. He couldn't help but shudder again as he slid out, that very same slick, wet warmth slipping so wonderfully across him; he wobbled where he stood, moved to wipe himself off, then paused as Daisy began to turn around again, hooves crunching over fallen branches and leaves.

She looked up at him, flicked her broad, thick tongue out across her lips, and then leaned in, sniffed at his still-hard shaft coated, dripping in her own arousal… and then began her work at cleaning him up. The texture was almost too much for him, Julan having to reach out against the tree for support again, but by the time she finished he thought that he might be able to go for a second round right here. That was something else he knew from experience: all he needed to do was hold himself in front of her muzzle and she would get right to work on him, the cow likely having picked this up from how he treated her in this way.

Still naked, still panting, still twitching with residual pleasure, steeping in the rich, heady aroma of bovine arousal, Julan leaned forward to bump his muzzle against hers and go in for another kiss – and then froze.

Up on the next hill, silhouetted against the sky, he thought he caught the shadow of… something. Suddenly self-conscious, heart in his throat again for a reason other than the overwhelming orgasm that still tingled throughout his extremities, he took a half-step to the side, brushed Daisy away as she went in to lap at his balls, and squinted up in the night. Certainly not another cow, though neither was it a donkey, or a coyote, or any of the other animals that might be running around a pasture like this; Julan patted Daisy, stepped off the root, and went back over to his clothing, still looking up at that spot where he thought he had seen something.

Where he thought he had seen – someone. Nothing there now. Trying to slow his beating heart, he tugged his underwear and pants up his legs, used the thick fabric to smear off the remaining bovine drool and musk – I'll be enjoying that scent later – and then finally went in for that kiss again.

“I'll be back again," he murmured to her, knowing that she would understand even without the words. Julan looked up to the hill again. “You know I always am. Same time, same place. Maybe not tomorrow… maybe not the next night…" ...if I can keep myself away for that long… “...but I'll be back. Alright, beautiful?"

He waited for her to lift her head and nuzzle against him again, hot breath once more puffing out across his bare chest, and then hustled away along the route he came. Normally he took his time, but tonight the skunk put a little extra urgency to his step, and still couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder every now and again.

An audience… he thought, keeping his eyes towards the ground so that he wouldn't trip. I suppose best thing to do is just… see what happens. Keep an eye on the neighborhood app feeds, see if the ranch makes any statement… maybe come back tomorrow but keep my head down, to see what they do.

Then a new thought hit him, odd enough that he paused where he stood:

Maybe they're interested too.