The Farmer

Over the next year, Carrie went to therapy almost constantly. She raised her children with Floyd. You served as a nanny or babysitter. You were a sort of friendzoned cuckold, and you really didn't expect any more intimacy with Carrie, simply based on your own sins.

After the year, and pregnant again, Carrie announced she wanted to live in the Dakotas. A small farm, on flat land, where she could see for miles. A tall fence, and a secured home. She wanted you to go with her, in the same capacity as you'd been. She used some of the inheritance she got from her Grandpa Willie, who had died during her captivity, to fund the move.

After a couple of days, a neighbor arrived. He was tall, dark haired, handsome, with tight jeans and a big belt buckle. Carrie opened the door, her heart racing, fear evident on her face. He placed the pie down and held his hands to show her he was unarmed. His name was James.

"Sorry, ma'am, I just wanted to welcome you to the area. Don't get many neighbors this far out."

Carrie looked at him for a long moment. She felt like she'd never conquer her fears again. She sighed.

"No, it's my fault. I've been through some shit. Why don't you come in, and have a drink."

They sat by the fire, each having a beer. He was single, and there wasn't much pussy around. She was very heavy, pushing three hundred pounds now, and she had more than a few tattoos. On one arm was a tattoo of Piglet. On the other was one of Porky Pig. It took a few more beers, but he eventually got the story out of her.

"Holy shit, you're right. You have been through the ringer. But if you've been through all that, why the pig stuff?" Carrie shrugged.

"I dunno. I wish I didn't. But getting called Porker gets me off. When I'm getting fucked right ... I'm not Carrie anymore, I'm Porker."

"And are you getting fucked right?" the farmer asked. Carrie bit her lip.

"No ... I'm shacked up with a couple of faggots, one of which is never going to get pussy again. And one I'll probably marry, but I'll cheat on." The farmer's eyebrows raised.

"I see. It's kind of hot in here, isn't it?"

***

He had a nice nine inch prick. Carrie cooed when she pulled it out of his cloth prison, playing with it. You and Floyd were in town, so she had an entire afternoon with this perfect prick. She kissed the head solemnly.

"C'mon, Porker, get to it," he said, stroking her hair. She looked up at him, fully activated now, her pussy starting to drip as she sucked his cock. Her mouth bobbed skillfully up and down the shaft.

"That's it," he whispered. "Fat Porkers like you are the best suckers." She growled, grabbing his heavy balls and squeezing them as she choked on his cock. After she'd gotten him to full, aching mast, he put her on all fours.

"C'mon, bitch, I know you want to do it," he hissed in her ear, giving it to her now, full deep strokes causing her large ass to clap noisily. She grunted, oinking.

"More."

"OINK," she said, and he slapped her big ass, making her moan.

"More."

She grunted, the thought causing her pussy to gush, dripping onto the bed she shared with Floyd.

"HREEE."