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Aaron lost track of the time he had spent in Sandra's arms by the house, but by once he had regained his composure, the sun had begun to set, lighting the farm and surrounding countryside with a golden amber glow. The two of them had fixed the truck, and dragged the stump into the barn, leaving it adjacent to a stack of firewood. Then, they'd towed Aaron's Mustang out of the field, ready for Steve the next day. Sandra had lamented that she was going to have to fix the fence, but Aaron had surprised himself by reassuring her that there was no rush.

No rush, he thought. That didn't sound like him at all. It occurred to him that nothing here seems to be done in a rush. It didn't really matter what day of the week it was, or what month it was; the farm work was like a constant white noise in an otherwise bare calendar of events. His arrival and the removal of the stump were probably the most interesting things to happen in this county in months.

Now the pair were in the kitchen, as the last crimson red rays of dawn vanished over the horizon, leaving the sky to turn purple and black. Aaron was sitting down at the table while Sandra served dinner. She had already laid some fresh vegetables, a bean dish, a bowl of home fries, and now she approached the table with a large, covered dish, held with oven gloves that protected her paws.

She walked over right next to him, and bent at the waist to lower the dish onto the centre of the table. It touched down with a clink, and she lifted the lid with a flourish to reveal the largest corn-on-the-cobs that Aaron had ever seen. Steam rose from them in wisps, while knobs of butter melted on top, drizzling their salty, rich oils through the kernels; a flavour explosion running in rivulets down a cylindrical yellow-brick-road.

"Like what you see?" Sandra said, still bent forward to remain at his eye-level. He turned his head to look at her, only then realising he had been salivating a little. He licked his lips, getting an eyeful of her chest from this posture; her hair was tied back, allowing him to see the nape of her neck, which ran down to her tight vertical line of a cleavage, only just below his eye-line, stuffed into the shirt beneath her dungarees.

She gave him a cheeky wink, and a smile crept across her features.

Shit, she noticed, he thought, feeling a pang of embarrassment.

Still, Sandra stood up and made her way to the other side of the table.

"Well, dig in," she said, gesturing at the food.

Aaron needed no further encouragement; he was starving after the busy day. The pair served themselves, what with them sitting opposite each other, and it seemed both of them had the same idea, starting with that corn-on-the-cob.

Aaron bit down on it with his prominent, equine front teeth, shaving off the kernels in powerful bites. It tasted as good as it looked in the dish. However, his attention was robbed by Sandra, who picked hers up and devoured it, grinding off the tender parts with her canine teeth, at-times sliding it past the sides of her muzzle. She attacked that cob with a kind of animalistic ferocity, almost growling as she did so. In moments, the cob was bare. She dropped it to her plate and reached for another.

"I've always loved corn-on-the-" she started, but a sound cut her off; a low rumble that felt as if it shook the floor.

"Is that-" he started.

"Thunder," she said. Her chair squeaked against the floor as she got up, then she walked over to the window. Before long, there was another rumble, and she perched up on the counter-top to look in the direction from which it had come.

"Seems to be from the south," she said. She turned to face him, and only then did he realise that he'd put down his food upon hearing the sound.

"Heading this way?" he asked.

She nodded.

He picked up a napkin from the table and wiped his mouth, then got up and stood before her.

"I'm gonna sleep in the Mustang," he said.

"Like fuck you are!" she said, stamping her footpaw.

Aaron backpedalled a bit at her outburst. He wanted to argue with her; the last time he was in a thunderstorm he drove through her fence, and he was worried he might be a danger to her.

"Sandra, I don't want to-"

"No."

"But I might-"

She interrupted him by stepping close, and took his hands into her paws.

"This is my house, and you're a guest under my roof. You'll sleep in a god-damned bed."

~~~

By the time they had finished the meal, it had gotten late, and Sandra had requested he try to turn in as early as he could, while she did the dishes. He assumed, in her own way, that she was trying to give him a chance to get to sleep before the storm hit.

She'd put him in the second bedroom; this, like the bathroom, was larger than his first apartment, with three windows that faced to the south. Those windows rattled with the sound of the rain; it was falling in sheets, and the area was so remote that there was little light, save for the occasional white pulse of lightning in the distance that cast harsh shadows around the room. Aaron shuddered to think how he'd been out in that just last night.

He pushed the straps of the dungarees off his shoulders, and undid the belt fastening; the garment fell to the floor, and he stepped out of it, before picking it up and folding it, placing it onto a chair. He balled his hands into fists and stretched, tensing his muscular back and core, grunting with the exertion before climbing into the double-bed. The sheets were thin, what with the warm weather, but they were soft, just like the mattress and pillows, and Aaron rolled onto his left side so he could look out through the nearest window.

Almost on-cue, the sky lit up with a sheet of lightning, white and dazzling to the eyes, rendering the distant horizon and everything on it in black, and moments later, the darkness resumed, chased by the sound of distant thunder, leaving blue marks upon Aaron's vision.

He swallowed, feeling a familiar sensation of unease rising in his chest. He had hoped there would be a lock on the bedroom door, not to keep Sandra out, but rather to keep him in; but there was no such luck.

Another flash of lightning, and the thunder came sooner; Aaron curled up into the foetal position as he dreaded the approaching storm cell, willing it to turn, the winds to change, anything to stop its advance; but of course, the storm ignored his silent plea.

Another flash, a rumble, and Aaron's heart raced. He crossed his arms, curling up tight. He shook his head and chewed on his lower lip, until his body broke out in a cold sweat.

Then, another sound broke the gloom. There was a gentle knock at the door.

Right away, Aaron turned onto his right side.

"Sandra? That you?" he called out.

The door opened, and true enough, Sandra was there, peering into the room.

Aaron sat up in bed, holding the covers with his left hand for a bit of modesty. A light from downstairs was leaking onto the landing, picking out the outline of her curvaceous body and the tops of her ears.

Without a word, she entered, and walked over to the bed.

Aaron bit his lower lip, feeling the hairs in his neck begin to stand up. His heart, which had been pounding with fear now shifted gears to a rhythm fuelled by a nervous energy.

Sandra lifted her paws to behind her head and swung her wide hips just a little to the left, then undid the ribbon that had held her hair back at dinner, leaving it to fall freely around her neck. Aaron watched as her paws traced down her neck and to her shoulders, to the straps of her work dungarees, which she pushed out and over her arms.

In one motion, the garment fell to the floor, and the coyote was bottomless. Aaron's eyes opened wide as he saw, even in the near darkness, a flash of white from her muzzle as she smiled at him. His eyes wandered down the front of her shirt, to see her belly hanging from the hemline, the same almost-white colour as the fur of her neck, surrounded by the sand-coloured fur on the rest of her body. It ran down to her crotch, her inner thighs, her-

She reached down to cup his chin in her paw, lifting his head to look at her chest. Aaron obeyed without question, scooching over to sit on the edge of the bed, his long equine snout only inches from her stomach.

"Not so fast, horsey-boy," she said, and removed her paw from his chin, before reaching across her body with both paws to grasp the hem of her shirt. She lifted it up and over her body, revealing her bra-less breasts, covered in the same, smooth, white fur. She was gifted with a large bosom, and it was all Aaron could do to stop himself reaching out to give them a gentle squeeze right away.

She flung the shirt across the room, and was left standing before him, in the fur. She was magnificent; with the body of a pagan fertility goddess, sculpted from the ardour of the farm and the fat of the land, and Aaron could not believe that such a creature had come to him like this.

Just then, there was a crackle of lightning, raising the room to a dazzling white, but when it was gone, Sandra had stepped forward and embraced him, pressing his face into her chest-fur, her muzzle close to his ear.

"It's okay," she cooed, and seizing the moment, Aaron edged forward with his lips and placed them around the pink nipple of her left breast, and started to suck upon it like a newborn. Sandra groaned in response, her chest rising and falling against his cheek, leading him to stroke across the tender flesh with his rough, equine tongue.

Soon, he felt the sheet around his lower-body move, as Sandra pulled at it with her paws, until he too was out in the fur. It gave her the chance to sit down, straddling his left leg, her wetness riding his thigh, at the right posture to grind back and forth in time with the movement of his lips. Every so often, her muzzle would nip at his ears, just running her teeth down the sensitive flesh.

Aaron felt his own arousal growing, and soon, Sandra's left thigh was bumping against his length. She must have realised this too, for she pulled back and got up to her footpaws.

With him now sitting on the edge of the bed, thighs open, she knelt down between his knees.

"Let's see what your English gentleman brings to the party," she said with a giggle, running her paws up his inner thighs until they reached what she was looking for. Her left paw slid down to cup his pendulous balls, hanging in their leathery, tan-coloured sack, while her right paw slid up his growing length.

He gasped at her touch, only for his sheath to slide back, exposing his member, that throbbed in a gentle manner to the rhythm of his heart. Sandra made little, tender strokes, and her eyes grew wide as he felt himself become hard, until the flared end of his equine cock filled out.

Aaron was no stranger to female attention. In his youth, he'd been quite the ladies' man. His cock, equine in form, was dark at the shaft, but in a true Clydesdale fashion, the flared end was covered in cream-coloured skin, and when fully aroused, was almost as thick as his wrist, and over nine inches in length.

"Well aren't we gifted," she giggled.

"Different to what you're used to? Not too different, I hope."

She looked up at him.

"Mr Swift," she said, in a mock British tone, "when a lady takes a horse to her bedchamber, she knows what to expect."

With those words, she leaned forward with her muzzle, and brought her tongue to his length, running it from his base, over his medial ring, right to his flared tip. Her touch was electric. A moan burst from his throat, and upon hearing that, Sandra opened her jaws wide and took his length between them.

She swallowed his flared end with the same ferocity with which he'd seen her attack her food, and her hair swayed back and forth as her head bobbed. He found himself unable to resist placing his hands on her temples, rubbing her ears between his thumbs and forefingers. With each movement, her tongue worked its way along his underside, touching sensitive spots that caused his muscles to convulse in sympathetic pleasure.

He could already feel himself leaking pre like a faucet when she pulled her head back. The sudden-ness of the movement caused his cock to slap up against his stomach, and now fully hard, it bobbed in a springy fashion, slick from her saliva and his own juices.

Lightning flashed outside, and Aaron looked down to see her illuminated form; her bountiful breasts squished between her upper arms, her tongue lolling out the side of her muzzle as it licked her chops, and almost before the light was gone, he heard her say,

"Okay, enough of the tender stuff. Time to ride the horse!"

The rumble of thunder served as a backdrop to her movement as she pounced on him with surprising speed! She leaped forwards, pushing her arms against his shoulders until he was pressed back onto the bed. In an instant, he was lying down, facing up, and Sandra's thighs were either side of his abdomen. Out the corner of his eye, he could see her wagging tail, while the bulk of his vision was taken up by her breasts that hung either side of his snout, while his nose nuzzled into her cleavage.

"I want you," she said.

"You're welcome," he answered.

She writhed her body, which pressed those breasts against his cheeks.

"Don't get me wrong," she said, "Just, I haven't seen a good-looking guy in months who wasn't an asshole. A girl has needs, you know?"

Aaron felt as she shifted her rear left and right from the occasional brush of her hindquarters against the end of his cock. Soon, he felt her guide it with a paw, until he was touching something warm and wet, and knew it to be her nethers.

"Maybe it's just this. Maybe that's all it is, but if it is," she leaned down to bring her muzzle close to his ear, and whispered, "I want you to enjoy it."

With those words, she threw her weight backwards, and Aaron felt his member part her lips and continue deep inside her, until she was sitting on top of his hips. Her back arched until her muzzle pointed at the ceiling, and she ran her paws through her hair. Aaron's eyes drank in the scene as he looked at her chubby belly and beautiful breasts rising and falling with her breathing.

"Mmmf, that's the shit," she groaned. Then, she started to rock her hips back and forth.

Aaron almost had to grind his hooves together from the sheer pleasure; she was tighter than any female he'd ever had, and yet she'd taken his entire equine length. Each movement brought a fresh wave of pleasure, enough to cause his nostrils to flare from the intake of breath, and every exhale became a feral moan.

Another white flash through the windows, and the rain beat against the glass, but Sandra rocked forwards, placing her paws on his shoulders as her hindquarters kept milking him like he was a cow in her barn.

"Oh, that's good, that's it," she muttered as her pace increased. Aaron felt his own release building as his cock seemed to grow even harder; he felt it inside him, that impending moment of release, and did his best to try and stave it off, not wanting the moment to be over so quickly...

... but then he looked down, and saw how Sandra's tits were swinging back and forth beneath her from her movements, and in that moment, he felt it - the point-of-no-return.

"Oh, Sandra," he moaned, as his body started to move on its own, thrusting up into her with no sense of rhythm or gait, merely a spasm of need and pleasure. Sandra must have felt it too, for her voice raised in pitch,

"Yeah, that's it, fuck me Aaron, breed me like a mare!"

With her words, her thrusts sped up, until she was moaning with every breath, going up and up in pitch.

Then, she shuddered and leaned forward, smothering his face with her breasts for a moment, and sat back, right on his length, pushing herself onto his hips for any more depth he could give her. Aaron felt his flared end hit the spot deep inside her, pushing back the sides of his flare, begging for what he had to give her, and in that moment, he roared like a creature in the forest. His balls tightened, his humping seized, and his cock throbbed as he filled her with burst after burst of white-hot cum.

Continued in part 6!