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Fields of grain stricken of their bounty spelled death for the bovine tribe. Two months without a drop out of the sunny blue skies so beautifully radiant, unsullied by any cumulus bringing shade or water. Plants withered on their formerly proud amber stalks and turned a deathly brown all saggy and dry, crumbling at the slightest touch with nary a grain for consumption. Autumn fast approaching. Towers of baskets that would go unused for harvest. The threat of fire lingered, the ultimate calamity meaning apocalypse for their settlement. Plans of migration were rumored, but tales of yonder settlements suffering the same drought put a damper on such desperation. Woe would be the bovine tribe with their failing crops, the dread of starvation haunting their imaginations.

There was only one option.

The most care had been made building the altar. Specifications kept only by memory were recited to the best of the shaman’s ability. It had been decades since the last rain ritual had been performed and very few others were old enough to remember it, but the final product resembled its predecessor well enough. A smooth stone promontory among the hills was dedicated with holy flames and incense. In the moonless dark its granite shape sat illuminated in the dimmest torchlight, a flat stone risen from the grass like a man’s breast shaved clean. At the rock’s crest, that shelf facing the western sky, sat their deity. A bovine guardian carved from coffeetree, plump and crosslegged, androgynous in its smooth curvature. Atop a neatly woven rug adorned with tulips, it listened to the shaman’s prayer mute and understanding.

The spirit and his adherent were not alone on the rock. Laid back on his own similarly woven rug was a bull, fully nude with a Herculean muscle gut carved like a capsized boat hull from his pecs to his loins. Dark brown colored a body explosive with strength and physical prowess. His arms lay dormant at his sides, the triceps and biceps flowing along the upper arm like mountains, feeding into forearms like small logs and hands like catcher’s mitts. The shoulders were broad, impossibly dense, harboring enormous traps that appeared to keep his monstrous neck in place. Portly legs would support them all, bloated with power at the thighs before slimming dramatically into the calves. Between them sat his purse and its two orbs, their Jovian shape and circumference nicely cradled in smooth, brown skin. A modest pecker sat in a clotted nub just north within a nest of wiry pubes.

The bull’s young face stared patiently into the stars, a view perpetually flanked by two impressive horns. He rested his head on a pillow; for the coming test, he would need to be comfortable. Listening to the incoherent prayers of his shaman not so far away, he pondered how he had come to this position: a unanimous decision by those he would be performing the ritual with. They hovered about the promontory in the dark, their eyes no doubt drilled into the naked bull’s epic topography and manhood.

The prayer came to an end. He heard the gentle shuffle of hooves before the shaman’s wrinkled face peered down at him with milky eyes and a long, white beard. “Are you ready?” he asked in a raspy whisper.

The bull cleared his throat and nodded. “Aye.”

“Alright,” said the Shaman. “Good luck, Borrak. We’re counting on you.”

With the lives of over a hundred souls on his shoulders, he knew what that meant: Don’t fuck this up for us. “Aye,” he said again.

The shaman nodded, then slinked out of Borrak’s view. He turned to the east and held his arms open to those lingering beyond the torchlight, in the blackness. The sleeves of his robe hung low from his wiry wrists. That gravelly baritone traveled far into the dark. “Rain maidens, your altar is ready. Make good with this man’s body and deliver the rain that will placate the spirits and deliver us from this drought. Do not spare yourselves. His body is ample and expert as you have expressed. Use his every tool blessed upon him so that you may in turn bless this sacred rock with your waters.” Then he made a slow retreat from the rock and cleared his throat into his fist before disappearing beyond the torchlight.

There was silence beyond the crackling torches. For a moment Borrak believed he’d been abandoned on the promontory before finally a pair of timid hooves clacked towards him, joining him on the granite. A bountiful figure appeared in silhouette against the flames, standing aside him and looking down. She was a cow, magnificently broad, timidly linking her hands together in front of a gargantuan bosom left exposed to the cool night air that made her fist-sized teats go hard. Borrak recognized Samua, the sister of a bull he tilled the fields with. Big splashes of white fur textured the otherwise uniform soft brown of her skin. Long, dark hair fell below her shoulders. In the dark, Borrak could see the whites of her eyes set within a pretty, round face.

Her gaze scanned him repeatedly, as he did her in turn. “Hi,” she said softly, quiet enough that only Borrak could hear her.

“Hi,” he said back in a pitch several octaves lower than hers.

“I know I’m not supposed to say much before we start, but… I just wanna ask if you’re comfortable.”

Borrak smiled. “Oh, I’m quite content with where I am.” He looked into the bold rolls of chub that made her tummy and spilled over the hips like waves of molten caramel. Beneath an unruly bush of crotch fur was her flower, neatly hidden but visibly parted by a burning arousal. Were it any hotter, steam would’ve billowed from it, and she hadn’t even touched him yet. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable as well?”

Her cheeks dimpled around a cute smile which she covered with her hand to stifle a giggle. She spoke openly, addressing the shaman beyond the rock. “I have found the altar to my satisfaction. I will perform the ritual and make rain with it.” Those were words well rehearsed. Borrak didn’t expect her to decline the altar’s invitation, nor for any other girl eagerly waiting and watching.

Samua stepped up to his head and put a leg over him, bringing her thick, strong ankles astride his shoulders with that thundercloud of an ass hovering over his face. The crackling torchlight flashed onto her explosive curvature, providing shadows to her many dimples and folds of cellulite. That crudely parted pussy sighed forth a raunchy heat enough to crinkle Borrak’s nose. What light casted a shadow on its fleshy crease glinted on a thin sheen of her arousal. A quirky cow tail bounced excitedly as she smirked down at him over her shoulder. That was the last he saw of her before she squatted on him, vanishing his head within giant cow ass.

The air rushed off his snout and down his jaw, replaced by the scorching heat of her quim and tail hole. The latter was a broad portal of soft pink leather twitching on his nose. Wetter, more malleable woman flesh flattened on his lips, a gift he thanked by levying his tongue and parting those two chunky cunt lips.

Samua gasped at once, lifting her body before relaxing with a shudder and a moan. “Ohhhhhh~” The sloppiest noises echoed out from beneath her belly where Borrak’s tongue carved the length of her slit and drew upon a hot, viscous lode of pussy flavor.

His lower lip pulled at the dainty hood where her clit was hidden. Schllllk. Schlllllp. Schllllllp. This was amidst a great smothering weight that consumed his face all the way to the back of his head. He could only breathe through his mouth which risked drowning himself on her juices which had begun flowing at an urgent behest. Samua vibrated and shook atop him. Those powerful calves of hers strained atop delicately balanced hooves in order to keep her tremendous body atop his face.

There was enough incentive in the pleasure ringing through her loins and spasming her hamstrings. Her mouth hung open, freeing a song of praise. “Huhhhh~! Ohhhh… Yes… Ohhhhhh… Huhhhhh~ Please… More… Oh, yes… Mmmmmmm~”

He granted her request in deep, heavy strokes of the tongue, what sounded wet and rude in Borrak’s ears within the hollow space between Samua’s ass and the rock. His tongue alone wasn’t enough. Giant arms swung into the air with startling speed, grabbing hold of her ass cheeks and kneading them together on his head. His horns poled into the blubber which would smush and bounce off the bull’s scrunched features in colossal, hemispheric waves.

Samua helped herself to a handful of him as well, swimming her dainty hands about the rigid dome of muscle that made his abdomen. It would twitch and buckle whenever a gasp would stumble into his mouth for some air. The pecs were like slabs of warm marble, livened by a delicious coat of scratchy chest hairs she would delight her palms on. Her hands would open and close on those curly strands to the rhythm of her spasms and pull them taut. Borrak withstood the pain like a gentleman, too focused on the feminine deluge draining about his snout to let an inconvenience hinder his duties.

Samua’s shuddering steadied into a constant vibration. Riding the final swing into her climax, she whipped her head backwards, folding the neck fat and hurling her moans at the night sky for their deity to hear loud and clear. “Ohhhhhhhh, I’m cumming! Yes! YES! HUHHHHHHHHH~!!!” A shrill caterwaul quickly dove into a throaty gargle once her orgasm struck. It poured out of her in a babbling torrent to the heave of her cunt muscles, flowing around his head and across the dry rock in fat, silvery rivers.. Borrak received a wallop of it slam in his mouth, gushing right to the throat and gagging the poor lad. His body jerked, but man that he was, he stayed in place with clenching feet hooves and a tightened grip on her ass. What amount of sweet girl liquor poured into his mouth was gobbed back out with a shove of the tongue right on her clit. It created something of a Catch 22, shoving the water from his mouth would power her orgasm, resulting in another heave that would drown him.

Her ecstasy continued long after her voice trailed into a whimper and her spasms petered into a row of minute twitches. Upon opening her eyes she realized how her pussy was still latched to Borrak’s snout which she pried from in a difficult push of her legs. That titanic ass came off his head, leaving bare his face soaked to the bone in hot girl water.

Borrak’s eyes blinked open amid the froth. His vision sharpened on the view of a sorely pleased cunt still dripping onto his collar. Samua’s cherubic face peered down at him through the thin gap in those obese legs of hers.

“Hi,” she said, breathlessly.

Borrak was panting as well, drunk on the humid air billowing off her loins and onto his numb face. “Hi,” he said back.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat nearby.

“Oh! Right.” Samua stood up and pressed her hands together in prayer. Facing the idol, she closed her eyes. “Dearest lord of rain, I have found this altar most to my satisfaction.” A sharp twitch made the blubber of her ass jiggle. “I pray my waters satisfy you as well.” Then she bowed and left Borrak soaking her waters on the rock, but not before giving a cute finger wave and winking at him.

Borrak sat upright. He felt the rug beneath him soaking beneath his body and the tiny beads of water tickling down his chest and abs. And there’s a whole lot more waiting for me. There was a shift of weight in front of his gut where his penis, now totally erect, wagged through the air like a flagpole in a brisk wind. From the meager chode it was before Samua’s love it had grown into an awesome limb of dense masculinity woven with veins across its brown-pink mottled shaft. A flex of his floor muscle bapped it against his gut and drew a tear of precum to the slit. Beyond the torchlight he felt the maidens’ eyes on it, hungering for their turn with the most impatient arousal.

A figure out of the dark, snowy white fur materializing as a hellish red before coalescing into the beauty who joined him on the rock. A goat woman, unfamiliar to him in name but an echo in his memory with her beautifully lithe and athletic body. Boastful thighs and taut calves advertised a strength and flexibility within a ghostly trim of white fur. The jut of her abs, ever so subtle within an immaculate hourglass, filed upwards beneath a pair of modest breasts whose dark chocolate teats stood like tiny circular voids in the soft underbelly fur. An astute face regarded the stud with a sly smile and sharp amber eyes. Her nose twitched within the mephitus of her fellow maiden’s orgasm, one of which she sought to reap for her own on that terrific phallus pulsating against his gut. Standing so still within the edge of the torchlight, she appeared like an apparition, a hallucination out of the feverish storm of chemicals in Borrak’s horny brain.

He tried to greet her, but found his throat dry. “Ahem. Hello,” he said meekly, as if he didn’t outweigh her by numerous stones. She did not respond at first, instead taking a moment to stare at his cock and those two cantankerous nuts all big and swollen. Her hands folded over one another just below her navel, a gesture of her own maddening arousal.

“I have found the altar to my satisfaction,” she said in a deep, sultry voice. “I will perform the ritual and make rain with it.”

Borrak’s gut did a happy twist. To hell with introductions, I suppose. She approached him and he made his way to lay back down, but she stopped him with a raise of her hand.

“No, as you are, stud,” she said.

“Oh,” said Borrak. “Alright.”

She came up to his legs where his lap was open in a thick V-shape. There she came down and straddled him, bulging the muscles of her inner thighs with how widely they needed to be opened. Both hands massaged his trap muscles, whispering through the fur and traveling up the neck to his strong jowls. Her body was light, but oh so dense with the knees pressed into his thighs. He was conscious of how badly he smelled of Samua’s squirt, especially in contrast to her sweeter, more kindly aura which drove him wild and made his cock throb. Hardly deterred, she brought her face into his and kissed his lips, levying the tongue in his mouth where she could taste the fruits of his previous labor.

A merry groan hummed through his nostrils, beating warm air against her face at the same time those massive arms swaddled her into his great barreled chest. Soft tummy pressed against his pecker, sandwiching it against his own stony abdomen. She humped against him on instinct and hugged his neck. An adventurous tongue mapped his inner maw amidst haughty breaths and soft moans. Against that magnificent pillar of hard man flesh she could shiver in abundance. In a few sweeping humps she slicked him in her moisture, what he could feel tickling down the cock muscle in crystal beads that swam over the veins and his balls.

Loud, hurried lip smacks fed into needy groans. Scratching at his chest hair, she grew into a flurry of grinds before peeling off his mouth with a swoon and a moan. Borrak made up for the absence with a kiss on the neck, gnawing at the soft skin and stretched tendon.

She murmured. “Ohhh, yes~” Out of patience, she tried to lift herself to his summit but met the resistance of his embrace. He helped her by a lift on the ass, groping both haunches for their athletic firmness until they were above the precum-glazed tip of his cock. His snout fell into the ravine of her tits, continuously gnawing the soft fur and huffing at her aroma while two delicate hands found his pecker and took aim at her needy cunt. She came down on it, meeting their sexes and gaping herself until the head was gripped in taut womanhood.

A heaving sigh was had by them both, hers more loudly and sincere as she began an arduous plummet down his girth. Thinly stretched pussy lips slid to the hilt, initiating a rapid quiver in the glutes and curling her hooved toes. A backwards curve of the spine spilled her hair backwards, inviting an even deeper inspection of her bosom from Borrak’s mouth. He found one teat and drew at it with a sharp suckle which tickled the tongue on her leather. The sharpest bliss made her moan and incited a series of rolling humps into his shaft, its every pulse and gush an added incentive to milk him for all he was worth.

“Ohhhhh yes~! Huhhhh~! God, yes! Ohhhhhh~!” She was a tornado of energy, pistoning in his lap in rhythm with her grinds. The pussy-slicked color of his cock would disappear and reappear behind the clench of those plump glutes which he held onto so firmly, squeezing and groping to each other’s delight. His own sounds of enjoyment would grumble out from her chest, now thoroughly explored by all his hungry kisses and polite love bites. They were lost beneath a soaring song and mashing flesh already thundering towards the finish.

Borrak’s gravelly stoicism broke with a rapid ascent of ecstasy. He couldn’t hope to stop it against her siege or even delay it with all that had preceded it. An effeminate moan-howl belted out of the bull at the behest of a glowing spew unto her still-thumping velvet. The cock muscle burst violently within the arching stretch of a dozen veins and the purse-crinkling swift of his balls.

It shattered what was left of his lover’s defenses. A flood of hot white delivered her own gushing reciprocation, a sudden spasm of every muscle and a shrill squeal. Amidst the ethereum she still made her duty as a rain maiden and stuttered her way off his pole. The head popped from her cavity with an ornery thud sound and plopped onto his belly to spit what remained of his orgasm onto the upper slopes of his tummy in a row of ropey cum splats. Borrak did not neglect his duties either, holding her upright in his lap as her sacrifice spilled from her chalice in a thudding rain upon the ritual mat, further soaking its fibers and adding to the rock’s pleasing flavor.

The last of her squirt piddled out of her alongside the thicker, whiter ooze of what Borrak had pumped into her, landing on his balls. A shuddering groan crescendoed from her throat at the same time a dramatic quiver pulled at her thighs and loins. Once she’d caught her breath, she smiled and laughed. “Dearest lord of rain, I have found this altar most to my satisfaction. I pray my waters satisfy you as well.” Then she got to her feet and excused herself from the rock, leaving a trail of raindrops stepping across the granite.

A flummoxed Borrak sat there in the afterglow, fighting to breath and sweating bullets in the cool air. A woman of few words, but they’re good ones. The she-goat vanished into the black as smoothly as she had come from it with the last he saw of her being the cosmopolitan grind of her buttocks. He waited for the third maiden to appear, bracing for her image to coalesce like some stalking threat. Indeed there was, as Borrak felt the gentle push of a woman’s belly against the back of his head, startling him. Gentle hands took his shoulders as an avalanche of softness poured over his head. He looked up and saw the titanic underside of his next lover’s bosom, flush with thick brown fur that tickled the back of the neck and made his nipples perk. The tiniest smile peered at him upside down from above that massive swell, the sweet face of a bison cow he knew.

He smiled goofily with the tips of his horns poked into her tummy just north of where the thick brown fur transitioned into something softer in both texture and color, traveling down to a pair of enormously chunky legs he could feel leaning against his upper back.

“Hello, Mattee,” he said.

“Hello, Borrak,” Mattee said back with a gay flutter of the eyelashes. In the dense thrush of fur that covered her features her face remained soft, especially with those sweet auburn eyes. “I have found the altar to my satisfaction. I will perform the ritual and make rain with it.” It sounded more like she addressed him, rather than the shaman, wherever he was.

Mattee stood upright and backed up slowly. She eased Borrak to lay down by his shoulders. His head came to a rest between her ankles where he stargazed the perfect view of her neatly parted cunny and the trim of brown fur that ran both lips. It all came down on him when she fell to her knees astride his shoulders, blinding him with crotch and scratching his nose with her pubes. His arms went about her hips to pull her to his chest and nuzzle at her clit. His nostrils whiffed at her bouquet. Sniff-sniff-sniff. Already wet, much to his delight, less to his surprise.

An expected shiver billowed through her. Her bison tail whipped through the air with its brush tip flicking at an apex and then sagging down to her hip in a curve like half of a heart. “Easy, big boy. We’re just getting started.”

He helped himself to a deep whiff. Sniffffffffff. He grumbled, again breaking the rule of silence. “Just doing my job, dearly.”

“You do your job, then.” She looked at his crotch where his penis lay wet and deflated across his hip like a wet noodle with half a rope of nut slung from the slit. She hoisted it upright and went to work stroking it back to life. “I’ll do mine~” She slung his pecker over into a slouch and kissed the side of it, wetting her lips on her predecessor’s cum. Her hand made an expert shuttle across the upper half, wagging the tip into a blur and wreathing the pommel of her fist in white coagulate.

Borrak winced beneath her pussy. “Nnf.” It was a huff of air that beat into her clit. The rebounding inhale brought a wallop of hot girl stink into the nose, a haymaker to the olfactory and a lightning bolt to the cock. He distracted himself with it, planting mouth to pearl and scooping at it with his tongue. Mattee reciprocated with her own sharp shiver and moan before hoisting his penis upright and making the head disappear in one solid gulp.

“Ulk.” Her lips sank to the shape of his girth, her cheeks to the depth of her molars. A sound like a suction cup being ripped off a wall came when she plummeted down his length, stopping when he was poked into her throat with still-hardening man flesh. Schlllp. Schllllk. Ulk. Borrak could barely process the delight of being devoured before she got comfortable and swamped his face with her ass. Whumpf. Burning womanhood, soft inner bottocks, the combined pleasance and foulness of those two holes glued to his snout with all their twitching moisture. The altar went to work, pulling, lashing, digging at her cunt in a roll of rude mushing sounds. Schlp. Schlp. Schlp. Schlp. The muscles in his neck and jaws bulged. Yet another deluge hammered his mouth and chin, tickling the neck down to the rug. Mattee moaned on his cock, though no less pulled from her duties with how the whole of her enormous head would float and sink the upper length of his shaft.

A symphony of oral sounds, sucking and licking, dribbling sexes. Borrak grabbed at her ass like a chin up, pulling at her like the remnants of a delicious stew. That bead of hers was stiff against the sharp prod of his tongue. He felt her tense and shudder against him. The buzz of her moans on his pole was an added boon, though it pained his cock muscle to throb so soon in the wake of his previous orgasm. His next was not far away, not with how expertly Mattee devoured him.

She would not have to wait much longer herself. Her muffled cries crescendoed through her nose until they couldn’t be contained any longer, forcing her to pry herself from his dick with a slavering mwop! “Mmmmmm-WUHHHHHH~!” went her moan as it uncorked from his cock flare. A swooning head bared her contorted features and the silky thread of mouth water that penduled off her chin. Her fist remained active on his shaft. She let out just one delightful croon before sinking her nose into his balls and clamping her lips around one obese orb. She pulled at it until it was taut on its cord. The smooth skin slipped from her lips and plummeted back into his lap with a thickish coating of her mouth love, what shimmered in a Plutonian radiance and warmed the skin to a scorch. “Huhhhhhh~! Yes! Ohhhhhhhhh~ Fuck! HUHHHHHHH~!!!”

Borrak performed his duties to the end and beyond, craning his ears into her howls until they reached an apex. Mattee rewarded his services with a blast to the snout, right up the nostrils. Fshhhh-SHHHHHHH. A sharp jet that hardened with her contraction, disappeared suddenly, then reappeared suddenly. Fssss-SHHHHHHH. Fshhhhh-SHHHHHH.

Borrak withstood her storm and the thunder of her voice like a poet, stoically and with observation to the way it stung the nostrils and massaged the face. Soaring high above even those pleasant sensations was the rocket of cum that flew in front of Mattee’s gaping maw and landed on the sheet between his legs. The rest spat free about her face and tits which she made sure to keep in the line of fire so that he would decorate her in a pearlescent tapestry. In the middle of her moaning she could laugh proudly.

“Ahhhhh-Hahhahahahahhhh. Mmmm, yes~” She jerked him through it all, slicking his entire pole in his orgasm while the last of her own faded into a slight drizzle onto his wincing face. A guttural moan blew from her throat as the meat of her hindquarters vibrated. She let go of his pecker, leaving a pleasing strain in her forearm from gripping it for so long. Letting her head droop, she saw his soaked visage through the gap between her sagging tits. “Are you alright down there?”

Borrak’s face was numb and his tongue ached with fatigue, but having washed his face in her rivers he experienced a welcome reprieve. “Aye,” he said. “More than alright. Thank you.”

Mattee bit her lip. “No, the thanks are all mine.” She shoved herself up into the kneeling position and spoke aloud: “Dearest lord of rain, I have found this altar most to my satisfaction. I pray my waters satisfy you as well.” Then she rose to her feet, stumbled a little, and waltzed her way off the rock with Borrak reeking of her sacrifice.

His cumulative efforts had dampened the mat into something unusable. It dug into his back with an unpleasant dampness once it had started to cool. While in the afterglow of two epic climaxes he could feel how badly his cumtanks had been drained. Man that he was, he could spare but one more load. Whatever deficit there was in his loins, however, could more than be made up for with his mouth and digits. Borrak licked his lips, consciously avoiding wiping them with his hand so as not to offend his previous lover. Heavy was the face that absorbed the squirt. To erase any of it would be a great sin in the eyes of the spirits and the women who blessed him with it. He’d taken an oath. A proper altar does not wash away what has been levied upon it.

Another maiden joined him on the rock. He blinked his eyes and lifted his head to see who it was. Blurry vision sharpened and coupled onto the view of a tall mare, a palomino coat appearing like the most luxurious gold in the torch light. A long, white mane sat over one shoulder with a collection of heavy, taut braids. Slender arms were crossed over a lissome figure highlighted by perky breasts and their petite brown nipples. Borrak did not know her name, but recognized her beauty in passing.

“Hello,” he said.

A timid hand unclasped from in front of her loins to wave at him shyly. “Hello. Borrak, is it?” she asked in an expectedly soft tone. Belying her meek demeanor was a trembling heat in her womanhood that Borrak could see already. Puffy cunt lips parting to the rhythm of her heart beat, blessing the rock with a thickish feminine drool, a preview of her sacrifice Borrak sought to reap from her, and her upon him.

He smiled. “Aye. That’d be me.”

“Liana,” she said.

“Hi, Liana. Are you ready?” If not in mind, she certainly was in body.

“Yes,” she huffed. Her hand went to her crotch fur and prodded the upper corner of her pussy, splaying the clit out at him and flashing its shiny pinkness. A visible twinge tugged the hamstrings. “I’ve done a poor job of waiting my turn. Now that it’s here, I hardly know what to do with it.”

“I have an idea,” said Borrak. He lumbered to sit upright and patted the mat in front of him. “Have a seat, Liana.”

A gulp pulled at her throat. “Alright.” She stepped up and did as she was told, folding her legs and sitting cross legged in front of him. Her blonde horsetail droned through the air like a feather on the wind before piling into a mop behind where her buttocks flattened on the mat. Gooseprickles erupted across her skin from the moisture. “It’s wet,” she said. She chuckled in spite of herself. “I suppose I should’ve expected that.”

“Well, allow me to make it even wetter.” He looked out into the surrounding black. “But before I do…”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” She cleared his throat and recited the introduction. She fumbled once, then twice, then got it right. She covered her blushing face with one hand. “I’m sorry.”

An enormous arm reached out for her, powerful and dense like a branch of oak, but soft and gentle like the most caring soul. He took her hand from her mouth, smiling warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Please, relax and let the altar do its work.”

Liana thought she would faint. Another gulp. “Alright…”

Borrak adjusted himself to a kneeling position, letting his pecker swing out and clap against both thighs before settling along his symmetry like a giant dead boa. Big hands took her by the shoulders and guided her backwards until she was on her back. Her legs uncrossed, allowing full access to the fire in her loins. Borrak could’ve hypnotized himself on their steady open and close, that blinding inner pink flanked by smooth, charcoal pussy skin punctuated in juxtaposition by her puffy tailhole. With his member out of action for the time being, he resigned to lying on his belly between her legs, bringing his burly snout in range of her scorching sex. It singed the nostrils and crinkled the nose. He could feel her legs shivering to the point of vibration. Looking up the gentle plain that was her tummy he saw her long horse face craning down and eying him warily. He said nothing but offered the same easy smile, what she saw vanish beneath her as he dove lips-first into her cunt.

Chu.

A precious kiss. A sharp inhale of air feeding into a sharp rumble in the hamstrings and tummy once Borrak’s lips began a gentle suckle. He cradled the pearl with his tongue and lulled it into a gentle circle. Her pleasure rebounded up her core, sucking the tummy in on some more steep gasps and heaving moans.

“Hah! Hah! Oh God… Ohhhhh… Yes, Borrak. Mmmmmmm… Please. Ohhhhh…” Her head fell back to the mat. Her song carried straight to the heavens above, every twinkling star a rapt onlooker.

Such a massive maw made delicate and precise work of her cunt. The heavy point of his tongue would scrape the length of her flower, focusing of course on that petite bead. Mouthfuls of her taste would swell to the throat with each gentle suck. Smch. Smch. Smch. Smch. His head would rock with her gyrations, always swaying this way and that. Her inner thighs would bump into his horns, rattling his eardrums. Nothing would shake him off, not when her voice sounded so beautiful and her pussy so sweet. He would encourage more of it with one beefy hand creeping up beneath his jaw and into her crotch where her twitching cavity was glazed over with drool. A big, strong finger found it with a gentle prod, quickly disappearing to the middle knuckle and finding her sweet spot with a single, expert curl.

That was the ticket. Liana’s chest swelled around a vaudevillian inhale, rolling the top of her head onto the mat with the cords of her neck bulged against the skin and her long snout at an acute angle with the rock, blonde hair spilling about it all. Her melody turned sour with the deep, throaty gurgle she let out, what Borrak felt buzz down her core and shake through her thighs. A tiny smile pulled his lips as his tongue continued its gentlemanly caress while its partner in crime- the tip of his finger -pressed into that spongy clot of joy nerves. They assumed a merry, if haphazard, tango of flicks, jabs, hooks, and pulls to help Liana into a frenzy of spasms and shrill squeals. Her legs floated into the air, into a broad V which shook and rocked atop the rickety foundation of quivering hamstrings.

“HUHHH! HUHHH! HUHHH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~~~!!!” Her orgasm was inevitable, breaking out of her with all the vehemence that her ecstasy demanded. Borrak would’ve loved to stay where he was, but the spirits would punish such selfishness. He withdrew his face just clear of her geyser, that multi-streamed flower of sparkling droplets which sprinkled off her thighs, the mat, and Borrak’s grinning face. He ignored the warm drizzle wetting his features for the sharp drill of his finger, what maintained her eruption and the white-hot delight powering it all.

Liana let loose with an unladylike holler, its pitch rolling and stumbling up an awkward scale until it petered off into a feeble sigh. She caught glimpses of her squirt as her head would rock and swoon every which way. It was impossible to miss with its liquid warmth all splayed across her lap and growing with each contraction. Blushing harder than she ever had, she covered her face with her fists as the last of her orgasm made its soaked contribution.

A properly moistened Borrak sucked his lip and smiled. “And how was that, dear?”

Liana muffled a pathetic whimper with her fists. “Nnnnnnnnnn…”

Borrak chuckled proudly and gave her flower one more kiss. “Say your piece, dear.”

“Mmmmmm, I will. Just… give me a moment.” It took her a few breaths to collect her thoughts, having to lay there with a heaving chest and a hand on her forehead. Finally she sat up and made her final plea to the spirits before standing up on shaky legs and exiting the rock.

Borrak needn’t wait long for the next maiden, her luscious frame entering the light at the same time he rolled onto his back to sit up. He came to a stop upon seeing her, or rather, the bottom half of her, two overtly stuffed hemispheres all cumbersome and wobbly atop a blimp-sized thigh each. It took a moment for him to notice the woman atop it all, a middle-aged highland heifer with a shaggy blonde coat of fur, the bounty of which spilled from her scalp and concealed most of her visor except for a single cerulean eye. His gaze’s travel from her hips to her pretty face was made all the more difficult by the titanic tits hanging from her chest, their subtle divide bringing an equal breadth with her bottom half.

“Hello,” said Borrak, still in the middle of sitting up. “Errrrrr…”

“Melody,” she said, offering him a small wave of her hoof hand.

“Melody,” he repeated. “Borrak.”

“So I’ve heard.” She looked at his crotch, inadvertently triggering a flex of his floor muscle which brought a sharp pang into his cock muscle. The meaty bap it performed into his gut told him that he was erect again. “I take it you can spare one more load, at least,” she said.

“One, I’m sure,” he said. “After that, not so certain. If you plan on using it, you’ll be the last.”

“That’s fine, because I’ll be the last either way.”

Borrak wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. “So, how do you want me?”

“Well…” She strode her way closer to him. There was the soft echo of her colossal ass cheeks pattering with each step. “If it’s all the same, I’d prefer you more than just an idle altar.” She gulped. Her cowtail flicked out from behind her, displaying its soft brushtip. “I want you to fuck me. Actually fuck me, like a woman.” As if he hadn’t demonstrated already.

Borrak chortled a little and rubbed his jaw. The ache in his penis was strong, but was petty in comparison to what lingered in mouth. During his relatively leisurely duty, his glutes remained spry and unspent.

“Aye,” he said. “I can certainly manage that.”

Melody smiled. “I have found the altar to my satisfaction. I will perform the ritual and make rain with it.” A couple steps forward brought her next to him where she fell to her hands and knees, that utter wagon of an ass hovering for his spectacle. He sprung to his knees with vigor, already drooling a new round of precum from his cock. Porting around that gargantuan posterior robbed his view of everything past it, reducing her to nothing but two hyperbolic hemispheres handsomely coated in soft gold. The tail whipped through the air gaily, a metronome to her arousal which bled from her pussy in a sparkling ooze.

Borrak dove a hand into her fluff, parting the buttocks and seeing the broad pink crater that made her tail hole. He swam a hand through the fur before letting it go and watching it crash into its twin. Melody let out a purr and backed into him. His pecker, aimed ahead like a field piece, glanced her cunt lips and prodded the under roll of her tummy. He stopped her by grabbing the hips. Opting to hotdog those mighty cheeks, he hoisted his pecker atop it all and let it land along her crack.

Whap.

A ripple through the blubber. A happy flick of the tail. A pleased rain maiden who dragged her ample hindquarters and then tossed it back up with a feminine flick of the hips. Clap went her cheeks, the delicate force of which Borrak felt ringing through his cock. He growled through the nose and savored her back and forth grind across his pole.

“That’s wonderful,” he whispered right before helping himself to a handful of soft ass blubber.

Melody purred. “You’re telling me.” A soft pout. “I’m so hot right now.”

“I can tell.” The sentiment was mutual. Biting his lip helped deal with the increasing ache in his penis, what intensified with each drift of her ass crack. A slick of precum was glazed across her crack in stuttered streaks. The veins bloated to his cock skin all but pulsed visibly.

“Mmmmm, you have no idea how terrible it was waiting my turn, watching them cum on you again and again.”

“I think you’re giving me an idea right now.” His hand came off her ass to deliver a friendly swat across the rump. Whap! A calamitous tsunami of ass fat recoiled off his strike, losing its energy before it even reached her hips.

She whined. “You’re making it worse.” Her head bowed between her arms, spilling the hair on her head and casting a shadow on her dearly contorted expression of need.

He smirked. “Then let me fuck you.”

“I am,” she said. “I just… Oh fuck… I can’t stop.” The heat of her cunt fueled the piston of her rolling, humping hips.

“Then allow me.” Beefy arms grabbed her by the hips, bringing a rude halt to her grinds. Melody gasped. Looking over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of his pecker and its drooling slit sliding back down the crack of her ass. He aimed it with one hand and pressed it to her cunt. Skwish.

“Ohhhh~!” She buzzed on him the whole way, down to the womb. A great quake held her thighs. The toes curled. The squelch of wet girlflesh against dense pole echoed alongside a crooning moan. Her head was swooning by the time she had him to the balls, those huge ass cheeks flattened against his stony hips and abs. “Huhhhh! Ohhh fuck. Yes~ Borrak… Mmmmmmmm~”

He performed a swoon of his own, craning the head backwards with poorly coupled eyes staring at the stars. A snort helped deal with her scalding cunt flesh. Sharp quivers and mindless clenches. He could soak there forever, but his duty to the village and the screaming animal core of his brain compelled him. He drew his hips back, then trucked them forward.

Bap. Bap. BAP. BAP. BAP. BAP. BAP-BAP-BAP-BAP-

There was hardly a moment for Melody to gather what was happening before she’d accelerated into a heavy swing. Beyond the thigh-melting glow in her nethers was the force ready to crush her lumbar. The swing of her breasts whapped them against her stomach and upper arms. Her rising moans hiccuped against his thrusts.

“Huhhh-UHHhhhh-UHHhhh-UHHhhhh-!” Her arms crumpled, leaving her cheek flat on the mat, rubbing it on the cum-soddened fabric. She already made good on her tribute with the clots of pussy cream that splatted off Borrak’s huge nuts. They would careen into the underside of his glutes before thundering forward and colliding with her pussy.

Borrak huffed and grunted through the effort. A sweat broke out across his skin, melding with the squirt he’d been painted with in a nauseous concoction of raunchy odors. After two orgasms his sensitivity had been ground to a nub, requiring all his strength and focus. Puffs of steam would beat from his nostrils between loud groans of heavy pleasure-pain. The hamstrings would spring to his skin and the glutes would crunch, building an immense burn that threatened to crash his fucking to a halt and fail Melody as an altar.

There was no reason to fear, really. “HUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH~~~!!!!” Her payment spewed off his cock like a half corked geyser, thin white tendrils that struck his balls and thighs with hissing force before filing into frothy rivers which dribbled to the mat. Melody’s arms clawed and grabbed wildly through the surges even as they continued after her squeal faded to silence and was followed by some shrill whimpers. Borrak didn’t stop fucking her, prolonging the ordeal into a blissful eternity.

Far from stopping, Borrak fucked harder. PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP-! Full length, all power, as fast as he could. He was bowed over her slightly, grabbing the hips and pulling on them with a vitriolic scowl. Melody rolled into her next orgasm, what dribbled out with less vehemence than its predecessor but with equal euphoria. More rain. More delight. More thrusts. PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP-!

The end was near. His grimace wrinkled into a snarl and his eyes scrunched shut. “Hahhhhhhhh! Going to cum! Close! Ohhhhhh~!”

Melody could not form the proper words beyond incoherent screams, not while her pussy gushed its bounty with a nigh continuous flow interrupted only by that giant cock slamming against the source. No worries. The meaning was loud and clear. With her tribute in a warbling puddle beneath her wobbling ass cheeks and shaking knees, she was allowed a blessing to her womb, what would become Borrak’s own masculine sacrifice.

One. Two. Three. “HRRRRNNNNNNNNNGGHHHHHHHHH~~~!!!” A Wagnerian heave to plant his balls to her cunt and the tip to her womb. The sharpest, most explosive pleasure blew through his loins and triggered a violent quake of the legs. Squirssshhh. Squirssshhh. Squirssshhh. Only a few pumps, just a small spit of all Borrak had left, more than enough to flood Melody’s womb and provide the crown jewel of what was his and his village’s sacrifice to the spirits.

Melody joined his holler with one of her own as the last of what was a ring of orgasms sputtered around his throbbing cock. Her eyes rolled behind the lids and her tongue spilt from her mouth from the numbing bliss of having her womb filled. That was the last Borrak could do for her as the moment his last bit of cum spat free he slumped over and out of her like a dead man, hitting the mat with a terrific thump and rolling onto his back, bathed in sweat, breathing hard, and lathered from his waist to his knees in steaming hot squirt. The bull huffed in his pit of burning muscles and an aching member, what sat across the hip all dead and soft with the last of his seed just one sleepy drool from the slit. He laid his arm across his eyes, the forearm coming down with an exhausted flop.

“Hahhhhh… Hahhhh… Oh fuck… Wow… Ohhhh…” He had almost forgotten about Melody before she crawled up and cuddled him with her tail slapping the mat to a merry beat. He felt a tiny smooch on his ncek and the many twitches that rolled through her lower regions.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Borrak chuckled weakly. A few more breaths and he could talk. “My pleasure…”

She recited the end prayer. “Dearest lord of rain, I have found this altar most to my satisfaction. I pray my waters satisfy you as well.”

“They certainly have,” said an alien voice.

Borrak removed his arm from his face to see the shaman standing next to the mat, smiling down at the pair. He was joined by the other maidens, the heat of their aftersex billowing from their loins in thin wisps. With his arousal all gone and with no hopes of returning soon, Borrak could finally gauge just how powerful the stench of cum was.

“I can feel the spirits’ pleasure in tonight’s ritual.” His nose crinkled. “As well as smell it.” His arms opened, wagging the sleeves beneath those bony wrists. “Rain awaits us, I’m certain. Thank you, Borrak. A finer altar the land could not have produced.” The rain maidens nodded and smirked in agreement.

Sore, tired, and reeking of girl cum, Borrak could smile as he stared at the stars. Melody’s hand swam around his chest. “Anytime,” he said. “Anytime.”

* * *

Fields of grain bent under a great burden of water. Windswept, desaturated. Long and heavy raindrops piddling into a froth and turning the earth to mud. Broiling gray skies kept a hidden sun with only white reticulations for light. Flashes in the clouds. Rolling thunder. Rare respites never long enough to dry. An atmosphere choked by the smell of omnipresent wetness never foul but no longer pleasent.

Forays outside were spent splashing through the quagmires and their coffee puddles. Workers could spend their days off smoking and drinking. Cheers were had for the village altar. Tinged with envy they may have been, everyone could be grateful for his blessings and the women who made good on them.

“Here’s to Borrak!” they would roar to the clink of glasses, exchanging froths. “To him and his cock! Better to drown than to starve!” All while the altar himself blushed among them, thinking of the lustful gazes every woman- married or not -had been giving him, his frequent rendezvous with the rain maidens (as if the night on the rock hadn’t been enough) and his secret wish that there would be another drought next year.

THE END