She hoped Linda took a long, long walk.

Valerie wanted to frig her cunt for hours.

And then the donkey brayed.

As Valerie creamed, the fragrance of her cunt got hotter and tangier and muskier. Her cunt juice turned to cum cream and the spicy aroma filled the mountain cabin and seeped from the walls and drifted out to the shed at the back, where the donkey stood, his prick still pounding. His soft, moist nostrils twitched and flared. As the scent registered, his cock pounded like a jackhammer and his enormous balls rolled between his hind legs.

He snorted and brayed in desperation.

Valerie heard the beast's plaintive cry. Her hands shoved into her groin. She remembered how huge and hard and hot that beast's prick had been – and, no doubt, still was. The memory inspired her anew and she began rubbing her cunt furiously, spreading the wet cuntlips open and fingering her inner folds. Her clit jumped out, tingling. Frothy rivulets of cunt juice spiraled down the inner rings of her fuck tunnel and spilled from out her fiery pussyslot.

Again came that mournful wail from the beast in the shed.

And again her hand slowed.

If it was thrilling to frig herself while thinking about the donkey's cock and balls, how much more thrilling would it be to be looking at his cock while she creamed! She shook her head, her mind clouded by desire. The image tumbled, but remained. It was as if the vision of the dumb brute's prick had been branded into her brain. She frowned, ashamed of her unholy fantasies. But shame was a feeble emotion, easily melted in the heat of lust. Valerie smiled, her mind made up.

She would go out to the shed and feast her eyes on the donkey's cock and balls while she finger-fucked her pussy to another dynamic climax.