The barn reeked of musk and sweat, a thick haze of fur and pheromones that hit like a fucking freight train. The bull, Taurus, was the undisputed king. His monstrous, vein-laced bastard of a cock hung heavy, a thick, girthy log of meat that twitched against the straw, glistening with dripping pre-cum. He grunted, his massive balls slapping against his thighs as he approached the horny bunch.

The dog, Rex, was already lost in his own world, sprawled in the hay. His paw was wrapped around his own sizable knot, jerking himself in a ragged rhythm, his tongue lolling out of his pants. "Fuck, look at that bull tool," he whined, spit dribbling down his own shaft. The slick sound of his fist fucking his own sloppy chode filled the air.

The cat, a sleek tomcat named Sphinx, was kneading his paws in the hay, his needy, tiny nub leaking a thin trail of clear liquid. He didn't offer his dick to anyone—there was nothing to offer. Instead, he was on his knees, his tongue diving deep into the dog’s gaping, furry hole, lapping at the rim, making it sloppy and pink. Then he moved, positioning himself behind Bull. He burrowed his face into the bull's meaty, sweaty crack, his own tiny prick rubbing hard against the straw in a desperate, fruitless rut.

The bull loved it. Bellowing, he turned the cat,