****** The Surrogate Bull by UK Snowy ******
===============================================================================

The Surrogate Bull


"Is there anything the doctor has told you that you've missed?" asked Althea,
rubbing Clinton's knob over her tits.

"No, I'm sure," he sighed woefully. "It's just not possible, I mean if you
can't do it for me, no one can darling," he lied guiltily, thinking about Meg.
His cock surged slightly at the images of his beloved Meg and Althea felt the
distant tremors. It lifted her hopes and she rubbed her hand urgently over his
purple dome. She aimed her face over it and let a dribble of spittle fall from
her thick lipped mouth. It hit the bulls eye and she teased the puddle into the
half inch long slit and sighed as his glowing, shiny knob seemed to gulp the
saliva.

Sitting on his knee in the office at lunchtime was one of the highlights of her
day. Days like these when the sun is hidden beneath a dark backdrop of
threatening cluds and the wind was whistling round the streets, her
introduction agency business booming and she has found the man of her dreams,
would appear to be the ultimate antidote to her previously quiet and staid
life, but Althea was so sad. Clinton fondled her tits, the huge black udders
hanging near to her waist, free of the hammock like silk brassiere she was
forced to house them in. "The door is locked isn't it?" she breathed, watching
his gnarled but clean fingers pluck at her bulbous half inch long nipples,
which had erected amongst a little pattern of goose bumps, as soon as he'd had
dropped his trousers to his knees and sat so she could straddle him.

"Shush darling. Stop worrying, we do this every week don't we. No one can get
in here. We're three floors up and can't be overlooked," murmured Clinton, as
she leaned back against him, her wiry black hair agitating his nostrils.
"Besides it's fun, sort of risky. Not like the safe haven of your bedroom."

He buried his head in the back of her neck, breathing deeply at the Dior
perfume. Althea squeaked agreement and patiently reached down with one hand
between her gleaming thighs and pressured his shaft against her soppy wet cunt.
She sighed as she reached further and gathered up his huge ballocks and hefted
them as if weighing them. She would need an industrial weighbridge to actually
measure their bulk, she giggled to herself. Still holding his knob between her
breasts, she kneeded the pliable thickness of his prick into the sticky mire of
her aching cunt.

"Is it me, I mean are you sure it's not just the chemistry between us that
ain't working? How long for Clinton? I'm desperate to get this monster up me.
You can feel how wet and juicy I am can't you?" she breathed.

"Of course darling. As I said. The doctor says theres absolutely nothing wrong
with me and I'm certain theres nothing wrong with you, you're so beautiful, so
we've just got to be patient. I'm sure it will happen", he breathed. The tumble
of lies, apart from the comment about her beauty, fell easily from his lips. He
hadn't seen a doctor and knew what she desired wouldn't happen. He spoke again.

"Now I'm going to lick you to cum as I always do, in a minute, but just keep
trying, I like what you're doing," he answered, reaching round her belly and
finding her clitoris. Althea shuddered and groaned at the instant contact. His
clever fingers frigged at her glowing red bud, making more pussy juice go into
free fall and sluice his cock. She rocked on him, holding his soft hose like
dick straight up her front, the ultimate love totem pole, lowering her head
slightly to lick at his knob.

Her toned legs were planted on the thick carpeted floor, giving her leverage.
Her stilettos cast aside, her long yoga trained toes curled into the pile,
their pink under parts contrasting with the deep grey blue patterns. Clinton
let her rock and stroked her oiled thighs, bare to her hips where Althea had
raised her mini skirt. Her pale blue French knickers were cast aside, the
flimsy silk and very expensive garment treated as sack cloth.

Althea could afford to be careless with her material possessions, being
extremely wealthy and besotted with her new fella of three months. 3 Months
earlier He had approached her on business terms, wanting to find a partner and
during the interview, he had visited the toilet and she had spied on him as he
pissed, as she did with all her male clients. The toilet cam was a boon to her
business, her extremely wealthy female clients were generally on the look out
for studs more than long term partners, such was the rarified nature of
Althea's world and contacts. She always plied her male clients with loads of
drinks, whatever was their liking, tea even and coffee and she always suggested
a comfort break.

She thought her cam setup had gone loopy when she watched Clinton unravel his
tool over the cubicle bowl. Althea had rubbed her eyes and glanced away from
the screen, not for long you understand as she saw the monster uncurl like a
snake until Clinton held it in a gentle arc, his knob end beyond her view,
below the rim of the bowl. As she gasped, watching him literally knock his
helmet on the rim to rid the drips, Althea wondered on who she could award this
prize specimen to and the fees she could charge. Yes it was white and nearly
fifty percent of her clients were of coloured stock, but a white monster was as
much a prize as any colour. Althea thanked her foresight in the toilet cam
investment and especially the sound accessory. Often she would switch that off,
not wanting to hear piss, farts and dumps. Many men were silent in the
cubicles, but Clinton's lips had moved and she had turned the volume up as he
pissed. It was as if he was talking to his huge appendage. She caught the words
"gorgeous black beauty, big tits, just our luck," and she had preened in her
vanity on the assumption Clinton was being complimentary about her.

She sighed as in the last moments of his privacy, Clinton had pulled his hose
like cock up vertically to his face and then Althea had been stunned by Clinton
rubbing his knob with a tissue and then kissing it tenderly, before the reeling
in and careful re-stuffing it back into his pants. She watched as there was
some fumbling and then he seemed to zip up the whole inside leg of his pants.
Althea resolved to try and determine the cut of his cloth so to speak when he
returned to her suite. Christ! A man who could lick his own dick, with ease and
with an obvious love of it was amazing. Her very first thoughts centred on
maybe he was gay or at least bisexual, but she reckoned most men would like to
suck their cock. Then Althea's brain went into overdrive, more price wise than
sex wise for a few moments, until she decided that her clients weren't going to
get a sniff of Clinton Blair.

When he'd appeared back in her reception suite, she took another look at his
pants and realised that they were particularly baggy, not noticing before. He
had sat comfortably and at ease and there was no sign of a zip, although she
did now notice a thickening down his leg leg and giggled to herself, wondering
if it would poke out from his pants bottom. She had gushingly made it
abundantly clear that the fees her clients paid were highly negotiable and
would be added to any other expenses he may incur. Clinton had visibly licked
his lips at the thought of being kept in such lavish means when the figures
were mooted and she wondered how she was going to break the ice and open
negotiations and her legs as soon as possible. He knew he had an asset.
Twentyseven inches long when flaccid or erect, when aroused it grew in
thickness only, from a mere inch and a half to a cunt busting solid and rampant
three inches in diameter. His rough hewn good looks got him girls but he'd
never been able to have full sex with them and therefore justify the cunt
busting qualification.

But he wasn't worried. Clinton was easy going and laid back and he enjoyed his
experiments and grew to be quite an expert in the foreplay department, sucking
hot juicy clitties, tit juggling etc etc. As Althea filled in the application
form, with Clinton happily answering the questions, whilst thinking of the
exciting deal he had done at market that morning, her secretary Myra had
knocked and entered, allowing Althea's boxer dog to tear noisily into the
office.

"Myra, how may times have I told you not to let Jimbo in here when I have a
client," Althea had said coldly. The excited dog had fussed round Clinton who
gave it a lot of attention and managed to quieten it very quickly, much to
Althea's surprise. Myra had been dismissed with some papers as Althea saw that
Jimbo was laying at Clinton's feet as the farmer gently stroked his shoe over
the dog's upturned belly.

"God thats amazing Clinton, hes never that quiet. How did you do that so
quickly?" she had gushed and blushed as Jimbo's hefty collection of genitals
waggled loosely. Clinton smiled in his reply.

"I'm a farmer remember, ways with them." She nodded and tried to concentrate on
her notes, wondering what her visitor would look like, naked, flat on his back
and her stiletto rubbing across his belly. He was certainly powerfully built,
with huge shoulders, a thick neck and that wonderfully open ruddy smiling
countenance. She wondered if his cock dragged on the floor when he walked
naked. Althea felt her fanny sluice and a flush gave her a glistening
complexion, completed by a languid wet lick of her lips. Jimbo suddenly raised
his head and sniffed and then he sniffed again in Clinton's direction.

The next thing that happened stunned her. Jimbo, who was now quite agitated had
busied himself at the cuff of Clinton's pants and was seriously licking at what
seemed like her guest's ankle. Before Clinton, enjoying the attention, could
stop him, Jimbo's powerful front paw had frantically scratched at Clinton's
pants and released a stud. Clinton pulled him away and cursed inwardly at his
stupidity of thinking about the market deal, the leaky arousal it had caused
and the ultimate revelation to Althea of his greasy great knob end hanging next
to his formal dark blue sock.

"Good god!" exclaimed Althea. "I don...It can't be (she knew it was, but was
feigning surprise)(and not very well). Clinton is that what I thi...no..it
can't be. Oh my god, it is," she shrieked. The intercom buzzed and Myra
enquired if Althea was OK, getting a short affirmative in reply.

"Afraid so maam," drawled Clinton, not surprised and certainly not fazed,used
as he was to female reaction to his genitals. He attempted to fasten the stud
and hold Jimbo back.

"Bit juicy, he got wind and well you saw what happens. Dogs go for that sort of
scent you know."

"My god Clinton, it's enormo.....I mean, does it go?....Silly me, of course it
goes all the way up," Althea blustered.

"This is truly amazing. I mean you're going to be such an asset. Thats worth a
fortu..."

"I certainly hope so maam," chuckled Clinton. "It's not the sort of thing you
discuss in interviews is it?"

"Well no, not in my circles, but bbuubbbb. we should...I mean we should get
some er..some er details yes?" she stammered, grabbing a pencil and note pad.

"It's not in the usual questions hah hahhah," she trilled, leaning forward and
letting her mammoth tits rest on her knee. Clinton eyed her ample, deep, dark
cleavage and patted Jimbo, whilst holding the dog. Jimbo for his part, whined
and pawed the air fruitlessly as his mistress bit her lip and hesitantly spoke.

"Look Clinton. This is silly, I mean I can't write file notes on your er..your
your di...your appendage, can I?"

"Nope, the ink won't stay on," he chuckled. Althea screeched with mirth, then
settled again. She took a deep breath

"This is silly. Lets get down to it."

"I'm game maam if you are," said Clinton.

"You want it?" Althea's eyebrows shot up, her mouth dropped open, her tongue
hung out, her cunt flooded, Jimbo snorted. She licked her lips and nodded
timidly. She couldn't get the words out. She knew and he knew that she was
lost. Lost in the admiration and lust for the giant penis. Clinton nodded
meaningfully at Jimbo and she got the hint and dragged the boxer to the door,
finally unceremoniously booting the dog out and shouting at Myra to feed him
and not to disturb. Althea locked her office door, confident that Myra could
take care of things, turned and gasped when she saw Clinton. His baggy pants
hung open down the inside of his leg and his huge cock lay over the flat of his
hand in a long curving droop.

Althea mewed and walked to him. Words weren't necessary any more. She fell to
her knees and gazed in wonder at it, her head tilted from one side to the
other, her lips pursed open as a child in awe, then she grasped the puddingy
knob, its greasy outpourings smearing her manicured hands as she smoothed her
hand over it, feeling its globe like form. There was no foreskin and she mused
on the doctor who had cut the juvenile boy, wondering if the medic had made a
tobacco pouch from the redundant membrane. With wondrous eyes and careful
strokes, she explored the length of Clinton's immense prick. Heavily veined,
hot to touch, her hands climbed it as if she was proceeding up a rope in the
gym. She literally hauled it in, finally reaching the folds of his pants. On
fumbling inside, she gasped loudly as she pulled out his gonads. Each ballock
filled her hand, five inches in diameter, perfectly smooth and as heavy as two
ripe melons.

"It's truly amazing Clinton," she breathed glancing up at him. An hour later,
Myra buzzed through and apologised, but reminded Althea of an important
meeting. It was one Althea couldn't put off. Althea felt too weak to go, but
knew she must, yet how she would prepare herself was another matter.

"I am so sorry Clinton," Althea frustratingly breathed. "It must be me, out of
practice you know."

"Hey it's alright Althea. We've had a good time and there'll be others eh?" he
chuckled, patting her black rump as she unstraddled herself from his reclining
body. He watched as she staggered across to her bathroom, her buttocks rolling
deliciously, her back deeply grooved at the spine, her breasts rolling into
view at each side, her thighs glistening front and back with their combined
juices, which turned her black skin, chocolate brown as it caught the sun
light. She turned and nodded as she reached the door. Her boobs swayed and
crashed against the door frame and his eyes lingered on the erect, black,
glossy bulbs of her nipples, finally sweeping down to the thick matted patch of
her pubic hair.

"You bet, there'll be a next time," she giggled girlishly.

"you're mine. I pay your fees. None of my high class whores are getting a whiff
of you, don't worry."

"All them bitches...and the dogs get a whiff of me Althea," he laughed, waving
his cock wand at her.

"Remember how you found out?"

"Yes well, those rich cows ain't getting anything of you so there. Now I've got
to get ready for this damn meeting. Oh god look at me." The last words were
screeched from the depths of the ensuite bathroom as she stared in the mirror
Clinton contemplated her first words and smiled. If only you knew he thought,
stroking his dick. He would get washed and dressed, pick up his truck, change
into his farm gear and go to the market as arranged. He would be pleased to get
out of his fancy suit, not that he was in a suit at the time. Althea sat on the
toilet and pissed hotly, her pussy stung as the acidity washed out. Her purple
tinted labia was sore from so many aborted attempts to force Clinton's knob
past it. Her clitty felt like a burst boil, such was the inflammation from her
rubbing it with Clinton's cock and his good, very very good tongueing and
fingering.

She had been sure she could take such a massive porker, she had fucked around
for most of her fortyone years. Hell she had taken her brother's solid brown
donger when she was thirteen and never looked back. Two marriages, five kids,
two divorces, countless lovers had made her hole sumptuously accommodating. Why
the hell hadn't she been able to get Clinton up hard? She swiped her drips and
winced, then she stood in front of the wall mirror. She peered down and
carefully pulled her cunt lips wide open, wishing she hadn't but determined to
prove to herself that her cunt was big enough. She had known enough men, to
realise some needed help or time to get it up. If she was impatient, she had
been able to stuff a semi hard or even a flaccid cock into her snatch, such was
the slashing great cavern she was now gazing at in all its flushing, gaudy red
wetness. Surely she could have stuffed it in, that would have got it hard, but
Clinton's dick had remained stubbornly soft and floppy. Long - yes, thick - not
particularly, wet - certainly, but hard - no fucking way Althea, she moaned as
she got on with her hair and makeup. They had parted, Clinton's success on
landing a supportive financier evident in his cocky manner and the twenty tens
in his wallet.

Althea half staggered, half ran to her car, being tugged by the effervescent
Jimbo. Gingerly she sat and drove off, still wondering if she had lost her
touch, but determined to try again. He changed in the gents at the supermarket
and drove into the cattle market. He was greeted by many friends and
neighbours, all treating the day much a social occasion as a trading day. Most
of them were packing up their trucks and Clinton finally got to the pens,
cleared papers with the tally man and loaded in his purchases from the morning.
After a quick meal following the unloading and penning, Clinton wandered to the
sheds in high anticipation. Inside, he gazed at his newcomers, all of them
munching placidly, blinking their soft eyes as he approached.

"You'll be Molly, you'll be Grace, you'll be Meg," he muttered as he passed
each byre. The three cows chewed cud noisily as he walked back up the line.
Their lower jaws slowly rotating at odds with their uppers, nostrils damp and
ears twitching, they looked supremely gentle. Molly was a beautifully marked
Freisian. Grace was a delicately tinted Guernsey and Meg was an inky black
Aberdeen Angus. He had already chosen her as his favourite at market. He
stepped into her byre, grabbing a tub off a shelf and placing it on the struts
of the byre, patting her rump as she swayed away.

Her skin was silky yet curly and shone in the shafts of sunlight that streamed
through the slatted walls. His practiced hands felt over her body, confirming
her bone structure and noting her trim legs. As she stepped round her head, she
lowed gently and he heard the familiar splattering of her shit on the concrete
gully behind her. Clinton ignored her natural function as he smoothed his hand
over her ears. Her eyes gazed at him soulfully as he ran his hands over her
snout and onto her gently blowing nostrils. Splayed wide, they were wet and he
coursed his fingers round their rims watching the membrane of snot that trailed
after his finger tips.

"You're an absolute picture Meg," he murmured into her ear.

"We are going to be such good lovers...yes you and you too," he chuckled as
Grace and Molly shuffled and mooed. Clinton walked round behind Meg, chuckling
at the sloppy dump below. He shovelled it to one side, got the hose and washed
it away. He saturated a cloth and washed Meg's rump, lifting her tail and
carefully scrubbed her anus free of the droppings that had smeared down her
haunches.

He noticed the ample vee pouch of her vagina, its protruding envelope of
delicate folds exciting him. Swiftly dropping his pants and whipping off his
tee shirt, Clinton stood in his sturdy boots, his huge cock swaying, barely
avoiding scraping on the hard floor beneath. He stooped as he stepped into the
thick carpet of fresh sawdust beneath the cow, his knob shunting the dust like
a ploughed furrough. He felt for her great udder and smoothed his hand over the
bulging sac, finding each of her teats and fingering them as if human teats.
They were warm and firm without hardness and he spent some time with each one,
finally sliding onto his butt and sucking at each one. Each gave him
sustenance, sweet hot creamy milk which he guzzled contentedly. It would build
up his strength he knew, as he guzzled on the cutely domed teats.

He gathered up his dick and smeared it over her udder, pressing it gently into
the huge undercarriage as if to fertilise the outer membranes. Meg twisted her
neck and gazed round and he offered his length to her. Immediately she started
to snuffle at his knob and wrap her long curving tongue round it, lapping with
such verve as if it was salt tablets or cow cake. He let her arouse him this
way, squeezing his immense donger, feeling the slow surge of blood starting to
filter into the thick veins that coursed through it.

Clinton got up and tensed his tool and it leapt and swayed in that satisfying
way, which never failed him in this situation. He chuckled at the trouble
Althea had taken that morning and her awful realisation that she had failed to
get an erection on his prize member. He toyed as he always did, on whether to
show her what turned him on, but as always decided that it was his secret.

He would get paid handsomely while she endeavoured and he could fuck to his
hearts content with Meg, Grace and Molly. He dipped his hand into the tub of
odourless lubricant and smeared it on his arm. He recalled the countless times
he had watched, then helped his father and then taken over the assisted birth
of hundreds of calves as he closed his fist to a point and gently pierced Meg's
vulva. She gripped it as he waited then he pushed, loving the intimacy and ease
at which she took his full arm length.

"No worries there then Meg," he murmured withdrawing. Clinton didn't bother to
wipe his arm. All the odours and smeg trails were part of his love affair with
his beast and he prepared himself now for the ultimate joining. Before stepping
close to Meg's rear he moved a special stool he had fashioned from sturdy
timber. He leaned forward and held her tail over Meg's back, baring her
genitals. Slowly dropping his head he thrust his face towards her vagina,
sniffing the intimate air until he caught the whiff of her sex. His cock
twitched and he tensed his sphincter muscles. His balls rolled and tightened
and he tensed again as he dipped his face into the soft folds of the bovine
cunt.

Clinton tensed again and his member swirled in its blood curdling activity. He
infiltrated his lips and nose into the dense swathes of her vaginal crevasse,
licking at the earthy tang of her inner labia, finding more pungent scents and
textures amongst the opening walls of her hole. He tensed his cock again and it
swung in an arc, its colour gradually changing from pale pinkness to an ever
deepening red.

Holding Meg's tail clear, he grabbed his solidifying cock and held it along his
torso, dipping his tongue alternately onto his knob, lathering it with Meg's
cuntal juices. His tongue pierced his slit and he let some of her fluids drain
into it. With his feet, he budged the stool into place and stepped onto it. He
stood motionless behind the unsuspecting cow, letting her tail drop, not
touching her, simply tensing and relaxing his groin and sphincter as his cock
responded. It took a huge effort, his eyes bulged, his neck tensed.

Veins throbbed over his groin and thighs. His belly rippled and his breath came
in sharp grunts with the effort. He was stimulated by the odours on his face
and the sight of Meg's rump, her swishing tail giving him glimpses of her
fanny. As his cock gained the horizontal, Clinton gasped with the effort and
proudly swayed his body, letting the magnificent member slap gently against
Meg's rump. Swinging his dick in line with her hole, having to support it with
his hand, he pushed as it centred and he gained six inches easily into the heat
and tightness therein. Now his cock didn't buckle with flaccidness as it did
with all the human cows he had been with. His cock stiffened as it entered Meg
further, now twelve inches in and gaining.

Clinton pulled back and glanced to examine the girth of his now quite florid
penis. No damage, so he thrust harder sinking it deep. He felt Meg contract
round him and paused, loving the vice like grip until she pulsed, released him
and he could ram at her again. He grabbed her rump, holding the protruding
knuckle joints of her haunches as he made the last push. It was easy although
firm, feeling pressure along his dick as he became fully embedded in her body.
All twentyseven inches were buried up to his golloping great ballocks and he
groaned in ecstacy as Meg again pulsed and gripped as if adjusting to this
sudden intrusion.

Clinton waited and admired the way her labia wrapped tightly round the wedge of
human muscle, so alien, but so fitting and comfortable. Meg lowed and turned
her pretty head as if to say, "What next honey" and Clinton smiled.

"Like it darling?" the surrogate bull whispered hoarsely.

"It's yours from now on and Molly's and Grace's, welcome home." In the early
evening, suffusing the light to oranges and tints of pink mixed with grey
clouds, the bestial love scene commenced in earnest. Clinton started a steady
shunt at Meg's sturdy rump, his practiced motions, gained over the years, with
calves and then full blown cows, which were his ultimate favourite, made the
fuck motions easy. His stool was spacious enough for him to take steps to
continually adjust to the stride he had to take to fully insert and withdraw
his massive dick into Meg's cunt.

Once hard, he could screw for hours and recalled the sows he used to keep, a
legacy from his father. Long since dropped from the farm, due to economics and
regulations on feed, they had in fact proved perfect receptacles for Clinton's
growing appendage and particularly the time it took for him to get off. He had
watched the boars at work daily and they seemed to be lodged up their various
mounts for ages, motionless, staring into space. Quite why the animals
attracted him this way and were the only females to get him hard, escaped him.
He let the numerous farm dogs lick his dick and when they had kept horses,
Clinton had fucked them too, but his favourites were the cows and the young
heifers, Meg was a stunning choice from his marketing foray. She stayed calm,
still and munched happily while Clinton the bull rammed at her rear.

Sweat flew off him as his pace quickened. His drenched body sprayed the byre,
damping the sawdust. He knew the pain and near exhaustive moments on cumming
were near, but drove on to reach his climax. His body shook, his breath was
gasps, his sphincter was rock hard and his balls had screwed into huge tight
bulbs, held in a wrinkled sac. With a shout - no a bellow, Clinton shot his
load. Meg shifted and the other two mooed as Clinton groaned, feeling his seed
flow as if he was pissing, such was the relief. Stars shot across his eyes as
he reached the last pumping action, ramming as hard as he could at the cow's
fanny, until he stopped, shuddered and fell across Meg's back. She moved
sideways at the sudden weight and with a farty wet slurp his tool slid out of
her cunt and Clinton fell to the floor. His cock ached, his balls seemed
pinched and his knob was lividly purple.

Clinton's breath was rasping through him, sawdust stuck to his lathered skin
and his legs were jelly as he tried to shuffle away from Meg's slightly
disturbed bulk. As usual he nearly blacked out, but he shook his head and kept
it low, waiting for the blood to begin its lengthy course back from the
softening pole that lay across his thighs and dribbled wetly into the sawdust.
Half an hour passed before Clinton could stir and check over his tools.
Everything was intact, back to their still incredulous size. His breath was
calm and he slowly got on with a gentle cleaning of both Meg and himself as he
pondered on his next trip to town.

END

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