Me, and my Loving Little Lamb Daisy

An explorative teen's search leads him to an older nudist farmer. Who introduces him to the raw, taboo pleasure he's been craving with a flock of willing ewes

Disclaimer: Welcome to a world where forbidden desire is the only rule. This story is part of a collection where all lines are meant to be crossed. If you keep reading, you're already on the other side.
Reader discretion is advised.
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This is another experience from the life of Ash. To enjoy his previous story, 'Me, My Sister, and Frodo- Happy Fucking,' tap my name.

My journey to Evan’s farm began long before I ever turned onto that gravel road. It started with my sister, Grace, and our dog, Frodo. Seeing them together, experiencing that raw, uninhibited connection, unlocked something in me. It was the spark that lit my fascination with bestiality. Maybe if we’d had a female dog, my path would have been different, but my curiosity grew, expanding from the familiar to the forbidden.
As the years went by, I became enamored with farm animals—female sheep, or ewes, in particular. It was a strange, specific attraction. I found their physical form to be intensely sensuous: the gentle curve of their backs, the soft wool you could grab a handful of, the way they embodied a quiet, earthy femininity. By the time I was 17 and had my license, this interest had become a longing. The car gave me freedom, and I used it to find people online who shared my secret world. That’s where I found Evan, a 62-year-old eccentric who lived on a farm with sheep and practiced nudism. He was the key to the world I desperately wanted to experience.

The car crunched up the gravel driveway, a sound that seemed to be swallowed by the wall of pines. Evan’s farm was cut off from the world, a secret pocket of reality. And there he was, just as he’d said he’d be: naked, unashamed, a shock of white hair on a barrel chest. He waved, a simple, welcoming gesture that did nothing to calm the frantic birds in my stomach.
I’d seen pictures, of course. We’d talked for months. But seeing him in the flesh—his body weathered and free, the sheer, intimidating size of him—was another thing entirely. He was massive. Every insecurity I’d ever had about my own body, my skinny frame and the four inches I was packing, flared to life. I pressed forward, forcing a smile.
We exchanged pleasantries, the awkward small talk of two men about to shed every last pretense. He looked at me, his gaze patient, expectant. I knew what he was waiting for. I went inside, the air cool on my skin, and stripped. In the mirror, I saw a lanky kid, not quite a man, his cock not so much hanging as just… existing. Fear and excitement warred in my gut, a dizzying cocktail. I took a breath and walked back out into the cool spring air.
Evan was by the pasture fence. He looked me up and down, a slow, appraising sweep that ended in a warm, genuine smile. “There you are,” he said.
Then I saw them. Merinos. My favorite. Their fleece was a cloud of soft, white fluff, their bodies curved in that way I found so intensely sensuous, the gentle slope to their rumps making them look like beautiful, ample women from another world.
He introduced me to his ram first, a proud, dark brown beast with a knowing look in his eye. “He’s got his harem,” Evan said with a chuckle. “And we’re just borrowing.”
Then came April, smaller and darker, her fleece a rich charcoal. She stayed close to Evan, her body language attuned to his every move. And finally, there was Dawn. She was magnificent—larger, fluffier, a brilliant white. As I looked at her, a strange, jarring thought hit me: she reminded me of my sister, Grace. The softness, the quiet presence. My cock, which had been cowering, began to strain, hard and desperate against my thigh.
Evan didn’t wait. He took his massive member in hand, and I watched, mesmerized, as he rubbed the tip against April’s opening. He moaned, a low, guttural sound, as he slowly sank into her. “Go on,” he grunted, his rhythm already building. “She’s tight. Amazingly tight. You won’t believe it.”
But April wasn’t enjoying it. She tried to step away, her movements sharp and anxious. Her bleats weren't the sounds of pleasure; they were thin, pained cries. Evan ignored them completely, lost in his own rhythm, pumping away without abandon.
I turned my attention to Dawn. I knelt behind her, my fingers tracing the soft wool of her rump before sliding down to find her. I slipped a couple of fingers into her pussy. It was pristine, a shocking, perfect pink. And she was tight—so incredibly tight around my fingers I knew my cock would be lost in her. I worked her gently, and she stood still, her only response a soft shudder. No bleats of pain. No resistance. Maybe she even liked it.
I couldn’t wait any longer. Not with the sight of Evan’s powerful thrusts beside me and the feel of Dawn’s welcoming heat. I lined my cock up with that perfect pink hole and pushed inside.
It was heaven. Warm, wet, and a grip so tight it stole the air from my lungs. It was a velvet vise, milking me from the first second.
Evan glanced over, saw me buried to the hilt in Dawn, and let out a loud, booming laugh. The sheer surrealism of it all—two naked men, two sheep, the pines watching over us—hit me, and I started laughing too. A wild, unhinged sound that mingled with his and April’s continued, pained bleating, which only seemed to heighten the pleasure coiling in my groin.
Evan picked up his pace, his body tensing as he drove into April one last time and unloaded with a deep groan. He gave a few final thrusts before pulling out, giving the dark ewe a gentle nudge away.
But my world had shrunk to Dawn. Her pussy was everything. It gripped me tighter and tighter with each thrust, the heat a divine magic surrounding my cock. The pleasure was an avalanche, building and building until I knew I was at the edge. Her pink hole clenched around me, a final, impossible squeeze, and I was done.
I buried myself as deep as I could go and came. It wasn't just an orgasm; it was a total system failure. My mind went blank, my legs shook so violently I thought they’d give out, and her pussy milked me for every drop, wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss.
As I came back to earth, panting and spent, I saw Evan watching me, a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice warm and genuine. “Your first time.”
Afterward, the day unfolded in a haze of debauchery and easy camaraderie. We drank, we smoked, we joked. And we went back for more. I left that night with a warm, profound satisfaction settling in my bones. I had reached out into the world and taken the one thing I had been longing for. It was, without a doubt, one of the best days of my life.

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