Despite my fears, the hope of watching my mother ride him a second time kept me coming back. However, I never did see him again.
My mouth dries as I step foot into the tall grass. I roll my shoulders and pull at the collar of my shirt. When did wearing clothes become such a nuisance? Every inch of my body itches and crawls beneath the clinging fabric. My skin longs for the freedom that accompanies Mother’s requirements. She knows how to take care of me. As long as I trust in her and obey.
Several paces in, my ears detect grunts and moans. One is clearly feminine while the other appears masculine.
My erection bulges and throbs, begging to be freed. Telling it to wait won’t make a difference. My penis never listened to me my whole life, as hard as I tried to control it.
The last several days held more pleasure than I’d known my whole life. In less than an hour, I can be back in Mother’s presence, receiving more.
My dry tongue scrapes like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. I would give anything for an ounce of Mother’s elixir. The fluid is life-sustaining. It’s replaced the need for water. Without it, I would lose my will to live and perish.
I need to hurry up and return with a sheep.
I glance at my bare hands. What will I use to lead it back? Can sheep be walked like a dog? This detail doesn’t matter. I will carry it to the house if that’s what needs to happen. How strong could it be?
The sounds of sex and sin grow louder as I enter the untamed field. The moans are intoxicating and leave me breathless.
Over the tips of the tall grass in front of me, a set of curved, ribbed horns dance about in a smooth, quick rhythm.
My hand falls to the front of my pants and almost rubs, wanting to appease the growing, agonizing arousal. Except I’m not allowed to touch myself anymore.
Mother knew what I would find outside. She expected me to desire release in response to what I’m about to see. And she took away my ability to appease my body.
Like a baby, I must rely on her for everything. Sustenance. Satisfaction. Rudimentary human requirements. Direction. Love. Acceptance.
Ever seeking to be obedient to Her, my feet continue to carry me forward.
The meadow stalks part.
Beneath the ram horns, a human head and back appear. The creature kneels and thrusts at a frantic pace.
Before him is a female on her knees. She could be mistaken for a human, except for the tall ringed antelope horns that sprout from her head.
He grips her hips and takes her from behind while she bends over another naked woman on the ground, eating pussy as if it’s a delicacy. The trio continues their exuberant groans of pleasure while flicking their eyes at me as I pass.
Everything in me screams out to stop and enjoy the view, but that would just add to my torment. Returning to Mother sits at the forefront of my mind.
If I pause for even a moment, I’ll lose all control of my senses and need to masturbate. The lingering memory of my cock in my hand teases me. Unzipping my pants would be so easy.
Mother’s wrath stops me. Without needing to see it, I understand how fiercely cruel she can be. I can’t take my punishment, so I’ll be a good John. The carrot wins over the stick this time.
Besides, She offers so much more satisfaction than my hand ever did. Her rewards give me more pleasure than I’ve ever experienced. An orgasm now, while temporarily appeasing, would never compare to what She could give me.
The rumbles and squeals of indulgence follow me across the field. Mocking me with each step.
While I’ve never imagined it would ever happen, what man hasn’t thought about having two supple, sweet bodies within his reach?
Does Mother know about this secret desire? Will she fulfill it if she does?
Guilt and shame warm my cheeks. Why can’t I be thankful for what I’ve received already? Why do I continually ask for more?
I push through the grass, praying the discomfort in my crotch will ebb.
The field filled with sheep ahead of me provides a kind of distraction. Are these animals friendly?
The only plan in my head is to walk right up to one and toss it over my shoulder. I’m not certain what I’ll do if that doesn’t work.
The herd of fluffy animals disperses when I approach. They clearly aren’t interested in being handled. Do sheep kick?
Mother never did specify what size she wanted. Would a baby do? The small ones might be easier to catch.
I move closer to the nearest one, hoping to surprise it, but the beast darts away out of reach.
Back and forth, I trot across the pasture trying to snatch a lamb.
Each time I get close, they end up slipping through my fingers. Unwilling to return empty-handed, I commit to making the activity a full-contact sport.
With slow, steady steps, I creep up close to one of the sheep. There’s a specific distance at which they’re spooked and make a break for it. When I estimate the animal is about ready to run, I leap, throwing my body at it.
The fluffy beast bolts, but I manage to close a hand around a thin hind leg and hold on. A piercing bleat assaults my ears. It screams like I’m about to slaughter it.
To be honest, I’m certain Mother’s going to kill it. I witnessed her bloodlust the day before. However, that’s not my problem.
If all she requires to continue the kinky games is blood, I’m content to oblige.
I drag the sheep toward me and secure an arm around its belly without releasing my grip on its leg.
The walk back to the house is agonizing. The clouds create intense humidity. Before long, sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes. My body breaks out in uncomfortable perspiration under the chafing confinement of my clothing.
