"Come on, Pal, let's go to the woods," Cynthia said playfully, as she slammed the screen door and Pal jumped up from the porch. "But no roaming today. It's too hot. We have to walk slowly like Grandma and Grandpa Holiday."

They followed a winding path around the barns and set off across a meadow, Cynthia's yellow braids swinging from side to side as she looked for hidden field mice in the grass, or knelt to pick up am autumn flower. The intense sun pressed sullen on her head. The sky was a vacant, wide tent of pale blue. The air was filled with the sweet, fecund smell of meadow grass and the small white and yellow flowers which dotted the field.

When they reached the glen, Cynthia plopped on the ground and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the hem of her skirt. Pal lay on the grass beside her panting heavily.

"Poor old Pal's so hot in his winter overcoat," she said soothingly, as she petted him. "It's just too hot today for clothes."

Cynthia pulled up her short skirt over the whiteness of her already developing thighs and sighing as the cool breeze washed over the flimsy silk of her brief panties, lay back on the cool grass and stroked his thick fur. She opened her legs wide to let the air cool between her perspiring thighs and looked contentedly up at the drifting puffs of summer clouds that moved lazily overhead. Pal rolled on his side next to her and turning her head at the feel of his movement against her hand she noticed that his penis was protruding slightly from its fur covered sheath. She remembered the black bull from the other day and tentatively touched its pink, moist end. As she curiously fingered it, the small glistening penis slowly emerged into the air until it was fully in sight. Pal growled deep in his throat and then jumped up, quivering. Feeling uncertain and a little afraid, she squirmed slightly away on her back and looked wide-eyed up at him not knowing what to do.