Pig in a Poke (Gay Zoo)

By Beee.
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When I was eighteen, I was, like many inner-city, single-parent kids, a high school dropout, and in some trouble with the law. I owe a debt of gratitude for turning my life around to my parole officer at the time, Tom. Tom told me of a couple in his hometown in Northern Ontario who had a really tough time. He urged, coaxed, and persuaded me into taking a job as a hired man on their farm, with room and board included, but just at the minimum wage. Well, you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist, or even a high school graduate, to see that the way things were going, I was going to end up in prison or the victim of gang warfare, so I finally agreed to give it a try, although I didn’t think I would last a week working on some pig farm.

The farm was a smaller operation owned by a Dutch couple. Mr. V_ had had a stroke while seeding his grain. He had lain on the cold dirt for much of the day until he was missed. It looked like he was going to be bedridden for a long time. A neighboring farmer had agreed to look after the fieldwork for the couple, and Mrs. V_ probably could have handled most of the work herself in the piggery (she was a competent woman). Still, she spent a lot of time caring for her husband, trying to help him get going again. Tom could not have found better role models for me. They were different from almost anyone I had ever known and had a deep and special bond.

The couple had a son, a couple of years older than I, but he was studying at the agricultural college in Guelph, and both of them were adamant that he would not stop his summer research job or his studies to come home. Mrs. V_ settled me in his room, fed me a wonderful farm meal, showed me some boots, and took me out to the barn. I had a pretty good feeling about Mrs. V_; she was a no-bullshit person but with a kind heart.

The smell in the pig barn was not as bad as what I had imagined and what my buddies had ribbed me about. Mrs. V_ used lots of straw, and the pigs used the sides of the pens along the gutter for dunging and usually lay in the dry straw on the high side of the pens unless the weather was scorching. Mr. V_ had hung a tire in each pen for the pigs to play with, and they would spend a lot of time in a ring around it, passing it back and forth with their noses. The feeders on this side of the barn were automatic, so my main job was cleaning and bedding these pigs and making sure all the automatic feeders and waterers kept operating.

The dry sows were kept outside on pasture and had to be fed grain twice a day. They were brought into a second section of the barn to have their piglets (‘farrowing’) and kept in separate nursing pens for five weeks. These pens were bedded especially deep with straw, and the sows soon lost the dusty appearance they had on pasture and glowed with shiny motherly vitality. I was to feed and clean in this section, and Mrs. V_ would perform many of the more complicated tasks involving the little pigs.

The third room was a breeding room. The sows or gilts (a young sow that has not had her first litter) were kept in pens on one side of a breeding area, and on the other side were three pens which each held a boar. Each boar was a different breed (one pink Yorkshire with ears that stood up, one pink Landrace with floppy ears, and one Hampshire, black with a white belt. I was to feed and bed the pigs in the breeding room. Mrs. V_ would handle the morning breeding, and she said I should learn how to do it, so she could write down which boar to use for sows and gilts each evening (they produced unique crossbred breeding stock). I was pretty apprehensive about getting in to clean the boars. Two of them were big, especially the Hampshire, who must have weighed about a thousand pounds and had big tusks. The York boar was young and only weighed about two hundred pounds. I watched Mrs. V_ show me how to handle them and being a young macho type. I wasn’t going to show my fear.

After the other chores were done, Mrs. V_ tested the sows and gilt for heat. She would put pressure on their backs and point out how those in good ‘standing’ heat would stand stock still with their ears erect and quivering. She also showed me how their vaginas would be bright pink and swollen with blood. She was very matter-of-fact about it, but I couldn’t help noticing that a sow in heat had a pretty cunt. Their shiny white skin set off the color (very few were black), and the lips were heart-shaped with a prominent clitoris at the bottom of the heart. Mrs. V_ said that it was dangerous to put a sow that was not in good heat in with a randy boar. She also said not to mate either of the big boars’ with a virgin gilt without putting the gilt in a breeding crate to protect them.

The first sow she led into the pen was an older York. She let the Landrace boar into the pen, and he immediately went over and started sniffing and licking the sow’s cunt. His lips curled back with pleasure at the aroma, and his dick started poking in and out of its sheath. It was not that fat. It was slenderer than most human dicks, but it had the most amazing corkscrew spiral at the tip. It jerked back and forth, oozing pre-cum, and the end too seemed to turn in circles. The room was filled with a wild smell. (In very small amounts, boar scent is added to some perfumes as an aphrodisiac, in larger doses, it assaults the senses and seems to go directly to the brain). The boar was not long mounting the sow, and Mrs. V_ guided the tip of his penis into the sow’s vagina.

“If you don’t guide them in, they’ll often bugger them,” she said.

I had a raging hard-on at this point. I was pretty embarrassed, and it was almost impossible to hide, but if Mrs. V_ noticed (and she probably did), she was too polite to mention it.

The boar pumped the sow for a long time. She stood stock-still under the massive pummeling with glazed eyes, shaking. Vast amounts of sperm jelly leaked out on the floor (the boar had nutted the size of grapefruits, and Mrs. V_ told me they could ejaculate more than a pint). When he finally rolled off her, his dick lay glistening, hanging and on the floor for a minute before it retracted. It was more than two feet long, blood-red, and crisscrossed with throbbing blue veins.

Days followed, and then weeks. I grew comfortable on the farm. I liked working with the pigs. They were intelligent, if headstrong, and often quite funny. Mr. and Mrs. V_ treated me like a son. Although they allowed me to go into town with their truck in the evenings, I found it hard to get accepted into the group of young people in town, and I found that the hard physical work took the edge off my rebellious energy. I started reading some of their books, which I had loathed before.

Mrs. V_ and I grew incredibly close. She asked me to call her Maria. She was a rock of strength and resourcefulness, but you could tell that the trouble with her husband weighed hard on her, and she came to depend on me and confide in me. I was still having a problem getting erections while breeding with the boars, maybe more so now that it had been a while since I had been with a girl. One day we had turned a young gilt in with the young boar. They were pretty comical and highly excited. Maria had just ignored my erections up till then.

But this time, she said gently, “It often excited Dirk and me too, watching them breed. They are just such passionate animals. Sometimes we would make love after.”

She was not coming on to me. It was just meant as a kind of reassurance.

I took to masturbating while I did the evening breeding. Maria never came out to the barn then, and the bed creaked in my room. One day I had just turned a young gilt into a pen. She was in excellent standing heat and quivering with anticipation. I put my finger between her swollen lips and started stroking her clitoris. Her back arched with pleasure, and she pushed back on my finger. I was out of control with lust. I unzipped my coveralls, hooked my underwear behind my nuts, rubbed some spit on the end of my rod, and started working it up and down between the bright red lips. The gilt was pushing back against me, so I pulled the lips apart, exposing her tunnel, and placed the head of my penis against her entrance. Slowly and gently, I eased inside.

God, she was tight! I kept gently pushing until I was in all the way. The gilt shuddered, but she stood stock still and enjoyed it. I lay over her smooth, strong back and pumped her with short strokes. At her young age, the bristles on her back were not coarse yet, and her skin felt smooth and warm. It wasn’t long, and I felt myself cumming a long and satisfying load deep inside her. She was making soft grunting noises as I came, and I assume she enjoyed it, or she would have moved off, as she was never restrained. When I was done, I turned in the boar that Maria had left a note to breed her with and watched as he sniffed and licked my cum out of her and then plunged into depths I could only dream about.

Once started enjoying erotic pleasures with pigs, I was hooked.

Even when I was not so bold as to drop my coveralls and plunge in, I used to frequently rub the sows’ or gilts’ clitorises as the boars were breeding them or wrap my hand around the boars’ penises and feel the powerful thrusts as they were fucking or the bizarre corkscrewing of their cockheads as they sought entrance. My other hand would be busy inside my coveralls. Their single-minded, intense animal passion was contagious and a tremendous turn-on.

The boars were able to thrust with unbelievable power. You could see their ham muscles rippling as they slammed their haunches in, but they also had a muscle structure inside their bodies at the base of their dicks called the sigmoid flexure. This is a loop of their incredibly long penis inside the body that can be straightened and forces the penis out another eight inches. When the boars were cumming, I could reach behind their big balls and press on the area just in front of their assholes and feel the spasming of this muscle. There was one boar, but only one for some reason, whose asshole would rapidly open and close in time with the workings of this muscle. One time, intrigued by this, I stuck a finger inside as he was busy breeding. The feeling was incredible. When the muscle opened, it opened wide, so vast that the pink walls of the tunnel were pushed out. And when it closed, it clamped tight on my finger and gripped it as another shot of juice spurted through his cock. (I had my other hand wrapped around his dick just past the sheath and could feel the rhythm. It was like his asshole was pumping the sperm out). I knew then that I would have to feel that asshole spasming around my cock, but I felt a little squeamish and decided to wait until I had a condom.

Several days before I was suitably prepared, Maria had left instructions to use this particular boar on a young sow. Once the boar had mounted her and was in “hog heaven,” so to speak, I got behind him and started to enter. Christ, it was like trying to fuck a porcupine. I had not counted on the prickly bristles on his back. Quickly zipping my coveralls up and then opening the bottom zipper just enough to let my rod out, I tried again. The boar made a small grunt as I pushed in but seemed not to mind. Each time he opened, I pushed in a little more until I was buried inside. I started pumping in and out of his churning muscle, but he would stop me dead each time he contracted. The grip was so firm. I could feel him pistoning in and out of the sow and the cum gushing through his dick. It was not long before I unloaded as well.

My note said to breed a pretty little, black Hampshire gilt to the big Landrace boar one evening. Since the boar weighed about four times what she did, I had to use the breeding crate to protect her. The crate had steel pipes along the sides and a wooden top that was solid enough to support the weight of the boar’s front legs so he couldn’t hurt the gilt. Once a gilt was put in the crate, a steel pipe hinged on one side of the crate was swung across and pinned to the other side behind her legs to keep her from backing out. I put this black gilt in the crate, and before I locked her in, I was admiring how lovely her cunt looked. The bright red lips looked sexy on the smooth black skin, like red and black lingerie.

I decided to deflower this virgin before the boar. I took off my coveralls, dropped my pants, and slid in the crate over her back. She was a small gilt, so there was enough room, but it was a tight squeeze. And she was a tight squeeze too. I was happily pumping her, listening to her little grunts of satisfaction, when I felt the restraint bar swing over and shut, locking me in. Looking through the sidebars of the crate, I could see the print of Maria’s kitchen dress. I was caught!!!

I was mortified with embarrassment, and instantly my rod started to wilt but crammed in against the gilt as I was by the restraint bar, I could not pull out. “So, is this how you do the breeding?” Maria asked.

I was speechless and on the verge of tears.

“This is very naughty,” she said, “I will have to punish you.”

I couldn’t see her face from my position, just the print dress, but I wondered what she meant. Reaching through the crate, Maria put her hand under my groin and stroked my now soft cock that had slipped out of the gilt. She rubbed her head up and down against the gilt’s clit. My shame started to fade, and I began hardening again. With the same practiced motion she used to help the boars enter, Maria slid my erection into the gilt and got me pumping in and out with a firm grip. When her hand was slimy with the gilt’s juices, Maria reached under my balls and started rubbing the liquids around my asshole.

Maria disappeared for a moment, and I heard the click of the door on the boar’s pen. I panicked and tried to reach for the restraint bar pin, but there was no room to get turned in the tiny crate with the gilt under me.

“Don’t worry, ” Maria said. “I won’t let him hurt you. But you are breeding his girl, you know. It isn’t proper.”

I could feel the hot breath of the boar as he sniffed the juices of a pig in heat on my ass. I felt his big rubbery nose part my buttocks, and his wet tongue licked my ball sac and right up my crack as he searched for the source of the pig perfume. It was half erotic and terrifying as I could also occasionally feel his huge tusks grazing against my ass cheeks. One false flick of his head, and I would never breed anything or anyone again.

With a grunt and a lunge, the boar jumped up onto the crate. It shuddered and rocked, but it was built to take his weight. I gripped the gilt tightly, wrapping both arms around her middle, and tried to push ahead, but she was already up against the front of the crate. I felt the hairy end of the boar’s sheath up against my ass and then the spearing thrusts of his penis. It slid up between my cheeks, and I could feel pre-cum dripping on the middle of my back. It slithered back, and it felt like the end was spinning round and round. Out it stabbed again and pushed through my bottom and over my back. When it retracted the next time, Maria grabbed the shaft and redirected it underneath me. She pressed it against my hard-on and held it at the gilt’s entrance as it shot out again. The boar grunted at the unexpected tightness of the already plugged hole, but he managed to lodge the tip under my cock with several more lunges. I could feel the ridges of his cock head rotating under the slight cleft in my cockhead, and then it sped past deep into the gilt and began spasming as it started gushing. To feel the power of his orgasm and share it in this way was an unbelievable turn-on.

The boar’s powerful haunches drove me into the gilt, and inside it was like someone had unleashed an enema. Jet after jet of jelly spurted along his shaft, and I could feel each spurt on my underside. It wasn’t long before I was cumming too. Maria started scooping up the juices running out of the gilt and pouring them down the crack of my ass.

I thought of how far up my back the pre-cum had been dripping earlier and started begging her. “Please, Maria, don’t. He’ll split me in two.”

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” she asked.

“Oh, yes! Oh, please, Maria, I can’t move forward with the gilt here. He’ll kill me if you put him in! I’ll do anything you say but don’t let him fuck me, Maria!”

Maria put the boar back in his pen, but I still owe her.

However, that’s another story.

 

The End.

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*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even the limited editing done here doesn’t always mean the narrative/plot flaws in a story are fixed.

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