Romans & histoires Egg Of The Black Goat

My blades sink into the soft, crumbling stone, sending sharp vibrations down my tired arms. I grope for my footing while watching the goat, only twenty feet above me now, still munching on moss and oblivious to the threat directly below him. He’s large, a pure, soft white. He’s maybe a few years old judging by the horns that stretch in nearly straight lines from the top of his thick skull. I need him. I want him. I won’t leave without him, even if I have to chase him up the mountain. I send a quick prayer to the Goddess for Her blessing to take this life. I pray to the older, forgotten gods that She answers then make my move.

Everything looked so well cared for. “Is this some kind of business?” I asked. “Nope,” Kellan said simply. “I just do it because I love it. The eggs go to the kitchen, and when some of the chickens are big enough, we… well, we eat. But nobody knows the eggs come from here.” “This is amazing,” I breathed. “I’m not going to lie. This is some top-tier stuff. How long have you been doing this?” He pushed me toward a pen where a few goats and sheep grazed, the sound of soft bleats filling the air.

Rena to her surprise, was grinning and holding her laugh beside her. They were moaning while kissing. The winged guy pinned the goat guy on the wall and kissed his neck. The goat guy moaned while his hands busy rubbing the winged guy's penis. The kiss got deeper and the goat guy gave back a violent kiss, almost eating the winged guy's face. Then the winged guy took off his pants revealing a long and huge veined dick. "That's a nice dick" the goat guy grinned. "You like it?" the winged guy said.