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No. 417
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Goat couldn't resist his feelings anymore. He had to take her, not once, but many times. He would let her know she was his through every breath, every kiss, every lick and suckle and thrust and gasp and calling of her name that sat on the tongue like a drop of sweet candy.
He flung the sticky end of his sticky hand with expert skill, and before tree knew the glue-like vine was wrapped around her waist, she was already in goat's stubby hooves. Her anxiety and lust mated to create a mask of a nervous smirk for her to wear, but on the inside, she was beaming. The skill that had proven so useful in protecting them was now made into an instrument of love. Back on earth, she thought with a sigh ( partially influence by the fact that goat was kneeing her legs apart), such an act would be a rose of peace growing in the farthest corner of the landfill of earth's skeleton.
Now, it was a private garden for the two of them, and she would treasure the memory ( and pleasure herself to it). But that was future thought, and the moment needed her attention as she wished to give herself fully to the bearded lover that had tamed her timid heart.
Goat ripped off Tree's bra with stubby flat teeth, and began chewing it as his cloved hooves clumbsily tried to slide tree's panties down...
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