A rhythmic slapping sound echoed through the barn.
Dry hay crunched in a tight-fisted grip. Splayed toes gouged long, shallow runnels in the packed earth. The farmboy shuddered as he was rutted, that stout cock pounding his ass with a steady and unyielding rhythm. His brow was furrowed. His teeth were clenched.
Tender lips slid along his shoulder, and he flinched as a nimble tongue licked the edge of his ear, “That's it... you're taking it so well, kitten...” his lover purred.
He could feel it then: the warmth bubbling inside him, the itch tickling the hard little nut deep in his body. His lover's cock was grinding against it, stirring the pleasure to life. It had hurt of course, and it still burned. Yet little by little the searing sensation ebbed away, melting into a comfortable heat that added to the tingle of wanton need.
The farmboy's shaft dangled between his legs, bouncing with each thrust. His liquid arousal had begun to bud at the tip, and once enough had built it had started to drip. The arcs his member made stretched those sticky droplets, and threads of glassy spidersilk laid themselves into glistening webs on the hay.
“I'm... I'm close...” he mewled. The tickle inside him was building, and each thrust sent a twinge of heat through his cock.