Lip Smacking Finger Licking Sex.

Looking into the mirror, I stared at the chicken as the chicken stared back because I was that chicken. I knew then that nothing I would ever do for the rest of my life would be as monumentally bat shit bonkers as the thing I was about to do right now.

I turned and faced my boyfriend who was sat naked on the end of the bed pumping his fist up and down his stiff cock with a drooling maniacal look on his face as he stared at me.

"Seriously?" I blurted out.

***

Secret fantasies. Hidden dreams. Latent desires.

Everyone has something to hide. Something about them they don't want others to know about. Something deep inside. Something sexual. That certain something that goes beyond normal conventions and pushes the boundaries of the imagination to new heights of desire and lust.

For most men, it's basic stuff like lingerie. For some, it can be tit, ass or leg obsessions. For others, it's a nurse, secretary, nun, aunt or even mother kink with dominant or submissive traits to add to the mix.

For Bruce, it was poultry.

***

My boyfriend held up the suit. "I'd really like you to put this on."

I stared at it for a moment. "It's a chicken," I said slowly.

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

We were in his bedsit and the rain was swooshing against the window outside as we stood there at the bottom of his single bed about to have, what I had presumed, a nice couple of hours together doing things that normal girlfriends and boyfriends do.

And now there was this.

"You want me to wear a chicken suit while we have sex?"

Bruce looked like an eager puppy. "Yup."

He stopped beating his meat and stood up as he held the costume up against me making sure it fits. I was so surprised I just stood there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"But it's a chicken," I said stating the obvious. It was then I noticed that certain strategic holes had been cut in the cloth. "You actually want to fuck a chicken?"

"They didn't have a turkey outfit," he sighed. "There was a kangaroo but that would be a bit weird. So I just went with the chicken. Here," he said, handing it to me. "Try it on."

Sure. What can go wrong? I was down to my bra and panties anyway. As far as his fantasies go, this one is a doozy. Maybe I should just humor him. I glanced down at his stiff pecker which was stuck out like Pointdexter at me.

Quickly slipping off my underwear, I grabbed the chicken suit and stepped into it zipping it up at the front as I looked down at myself when I realized my boobs were poking out as I felt the cool air wafting around my exposed pussy and asshole.

Bruce was literally drooling and didn't know whether to hug me or keep fisting his dick as he pulled out a bag. "Don't forget the hat!" he gibbered as he handed me a bright orange crown made of plastic that squeaked when you squeezed it.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

***

"Cluck," he gasped as he mounted me from behind.

Brucey boy may be a fucking weirdo but he knew how to put in a shift as I knelt there on his bed as he banged away at my chicken pussy. Every now and then he'd reach up and squeeze the thing on my head which made me sound like Daffy Duck being buttfucked.

"What?" I gasped.

"You have to cluck," he rasped. "There's no point looking like a chicken if you don't sound like one," he moaned. "Cluck, cluck, cluck!!"

Fuck me sideways. "CLUCK!" I blurted out trying not to laugh. "CLUCK!!"

Thank fuck we weren't in Russia or we'd be on the nine o'clock news.

Bruce was gone. His eyes were firmly shut and he was quietly muttering to himself letting out the odd "BAWK, BAWK, BAWK" as he shoved his chicken fucker in and out enthusiastically.

"Sheep!" he suddenly groaned.

Huh?

"What?"

My boyfriend stopped. "Sheep," he repeated as he moved his hips again. "You're a sheep now. Make a sound like a sheep. BAAA BAAAAAAAA BAAAAAAAA!"

"But I'm a chicken," I winced.

He gripped my arse harder. "Pretend to be a sheep!!"

"BA," I yelped helplessly. "BAAAAAAAAAAAA BAAAAAAAAAAA!!"

Fucking me faster, Bruce slammed into my backside forcing me up the bed so that I banged my head against the wall which made my chicken hat squeak even louder.

"COW!" he croaked deliriously a couple of minutes later. "MOOOOO!!! BE A COW. MOOO MOOOO!!"

The fuck?

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" I whined as I climaxed. "MOOOOOOO YES!!!!"

At the same instant, Doctor Dolittle shot his load. "COCK A DOODLE FUCKING DOO!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "QUACK QUACK QUACK!!!" he ejaculated before collapsing on top of me exhausted but happy.

Well, there you go. Old Bruce MacDonald had a farm and most of them had been up my pussy. I had no doubt Kermit and Miss Piggy were guaranteed somewhere down the line.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Hello Mr. Cock. Gobble Gobble Gobble.

The things women do to keep their men happy.

***

End.