Chapter 11

There were two different paths down to the salt lick and Catherine, leaving her dog and her son both in a state of exhaustion from her insatiable sexual appetites, had by chance chosen the second one so that she did not happen upon her husband and the randy teenaged twins and the stout pony. If she had, it might well have been a different story, and every bit as interesting, but with a different cast playing the randy roles and linking up in the depraved combinations.

As it was, Catherine followed the other trail, branching away from the stream as she hurried to the salt lick. She expected to find her husband lurking there and intended to demand some cock from the negligent fellow. As she moved through the forest, the woman was glowing with desire, radiant with passion. The things she had done with the Alsatian and then with her teenaged son had, she knew, been wicked and depraved--yet they were all the more exciting because they were so very naughty. She knew, too, that she would be sucking and fucking with both the doggy and the boy again, in the near future, and that prospect was turning her on tremendously.

Catherine had creamed time and again as she cavorted with the beast and frolicked with her son and yet, despite her multiple orgasms, the over-sexed woman was hornier than ever, her lust inspired as much by the memory of her sins as by any physical need. Her cunt was steaming and flaring between her thighs at every stride and she felt as if her hot flesh must be luminous in the dark shadows of the woodlands.

Soon she broke out of the undergrowth and stood by the salt lick. It was a natural lick, a streak of mineral running down a flat slab of grey rock that thrust up from the earth. Catherine stood in the clearing, looking this way and that, surprised that her husband was not there. Thinking he might be hiding so as not to frighten off the stag, she called out his name but got no response.

Damn, she thought. He must have spotted that fucking stag and chased off after it, and here I am with a hot pussy and not a single fucking cock in sight!

She decided to wait, hoping that Carson would soon return. Adjacent to the vertical salt lick, there was a cleft in the rock, with a horizontal table or shelf running along it. Catherine sat on this stone ledge, her trim ass perched on the edge and her long, shapely legs trailing down to the ground. Her thighs were parted and she was very, very aware of her pussy, smoldering between her legs.

She waited for ten minutes, frustrated and horny and annoyed with Carson for not being there. She thought about returning to the cabin, in hopes that Rex or Tommy might have recovered enough to throw some more stiff prick into her. But they had both been drained and, besides, it was possible that Carson might have gone back to the cabin by this time, along the other trail, and she could hardly enjoy bestiality or incest with her husband there, nor could she very well get fucked by Carson with the cabin occupied by her other unholy lovers.

Catherine decided to give herself a finger-fucking.

She pulled her skirt up above her waist. She hadn't bothered to put any panties on, figuring she'd just have to take them off again, and her naked cunt steamed in the cool mountain air. Reaching down with both hands, she began to fondle her cuntlips and clit and to slip two fingers up inside her slippery cuntgash.

Her ass and hips jerked on the stony perch and she moaned softly at her own caress and from out of her horny groins and the fragrance of her hot pussy which drifted across the clearing and into the trees...

And to the sensitive nostrils of the white stag!

The stag had been coming warily to the salt lick and, when he got a whiff of that steaming hot aroma, the beast halted, his nostrils flaring. He was a magnificent creature, pure white but for his black nose and the black head of his prick, which came slowly sliding out from its sheath as that sweet cunt scent registered on his mind and body.

The wild beast tossed his noble head, the huge rack of his antlers jerking upwards. His black nose quivered, the black head of his cock flared out and the rest of his brawny white body rippled and trembled with sinew and muscle and arousal.

The scent was human, the stag knew, but it carried none of the usual danger signs. The saline sweat was not that of a male hunter, nor was there any of the sharp tang of metal that meant a gun. Curious as well as aroused, the beast slowly advanced to the clearing and gazing at the salt lick and at the woman who was busily frigging her cunt on the ledge beside that lick.

The stag was both timid, as a wild creature, and bold and brave, by his noble nature. He hesitated for a few moments, detected no signs of danger, none of the carnivore scent of the male human, and then, with a toss of his horned head, moved into the clearing.

Catherine gasped when she saw the huge brute approaching her. His horns looked lethal and his hooves intimidating. His massive body was taut and powerful. Her first inclination was to flee and her legs tensed, ready to run. But then she realized that there was no way she could outrun a stag and thought that flight might well inspire pursuit. Maybe it would be best to stay right where she was, motionless and--and- -then she saw the stag's prick!

Catherine blinked and then, slowly, she smiled. She understood immediately what that massive hard on signified... The magnificent beast must have gotten the scent of her pussy as she frigged it and, like the Alsatian had, earlier, had responded according to his bestial instincts to the aroma of her sex.

There was no danger from the stag, she knew.

But there might well be a lot of pleasure.

Her husband had been stalking the stag and now Catherine trembled at the thought of letting the stag stalk her as she gazed in fascination at the stalk in question. His prick was long and thick, the rod hairy and white and the knob slick and black. His scumbags were bloated at the roots, his pisshole parted at the tip. It was a sight that brought joy to the insatiable animal lover's heart, pleasure to her eyes, and a hot ripple of lust to her cunt.

Catherine spread her legs wide apart, settled back on the rock shelf, and waited, holding her breath. The stag approached nervously, shying and prancing. He turned sideways on dancing hooves and she saw the length of his glorious cock in profile. It caused her to whimper. The brute moved closer and, ignoring her for a moment, perhaps in some ritual of stag seduction--he thrust his muzzle out and ran his tongue up the saline streak of the salt lick. But although the beast generally lusted for salt, that mineral lick held no thrill for him today, nor could it distract him from the far more fascinating and lickable object that was smoldering between those human thighs.

Moving slowly so as not to startle him, Catherine spread her pussylips open with her fingers. She tilted her crotch upwards, holding her cuntslot spread in a creamy oval. The fragrance of her loins wafted out more heavily and the beast snorted and sniffed. His long tongue ran up the salt streak once again, then the huge brute sidestepped and stood directly in front of the woman, scenting the compelling drift of her pussy. He lowered his head, his heavy rack spiking the air then pushed his head in. Catherine grasped the stag's antlers with both hands, clinging to his rack, both so that those pointed prongs would not gore her--and also so that she could drag his head into her groin.

The stag bellowed, his haunches lurched and his flanks heaved. His tongue shot out and lapped upwards, just as it had lapped at the salt lick. The horny beast tasted Catherine's own salty lick with a long, fluttering stroke.

His hot breath steamed into her open cunthole and Catherine gasped and moaned. The beast pressed his dark nose against her, shooting his tongue up inside her pussy to lap hungrily at the wet inner folds. She clung to his antlers and ground her cunt against his snout, her ass churning on the rock ledge. She could feel the enormous power in his thick neck as he arched his head. She felt as if she were mounted on his like a trophy in reverse, hung on his proud rack, stuffed by his tongue.

Catherine slid one foot under him and stroked her instep along his jutting cockshaft, feeling the hard meat throb against her ankle. The stag was licking happily away, relishing that hairy salt lick. His tongue felt so lovely that the horny blonde was tempted to let him carry on until she creamed. But the way his prick was throbbing and hammering against her stroking foot was sending waves of lust through her and, good as his tongue was, she knew that his cock would feel even better as the mighty beast pumped it to her pussy. His antlers were iron hard and tossing in her hands but his cock was every bit as hard as it tossed under his loins, stroking up her ankle and calf.