A Healing Touch

When Grimm awoke he found that he was spread-eagle on a bed of stone. The hard, cold slate beneath him was surprisingly comfortable, easy on his back. His body ached, but this was to be expected, as memories of his encounter with Sigrid swam through his addled brain.

There was something else: a throbbing throughout his body coupled with a wetness that seemed to nearly soak through to his bones. A smell tinged the air, not unpleasant, medicinal. It was not altogether unpleasant, and besides, Grimm could feel his body actively heal.

That wasn't all he felt, however. Dominating these sensations was one all too familiar -- an expert teasing of his cock, a playful sucking at his throbbing member. Someone was sucking him off... but it wasn't Buttercup. His companion was lying on her side in the grass, wearing a serene expression that betrayed the previous night's panic. She was nude, cupping one bountiful breast with her hand, teasing her nipple. A small dribble of milk escaped and blended into the foliage. Her other hand was, predictably, nestled between her thighs. The cow was watching intently...

...as a certain sacred spring tender sucked the bull's cock with abandon. There was no mistaking that slender frame, that huge butt... Morag! The fox was on her knees before the slab, contentedly wiggling her jiggling ass as she took Grimm's considerable length in her mouth.

Morag must have felt Grimm stir, for she opened her eyes and, upon seeing his blissful expression, gave him a sultry wink.