With Henry having gone to bed, Joan was left searching the house for a pen, paper, and something to tack the paper to the door with. Paper was easy to source, the art supplies in the master bedroom had ample sketch pads and reams of paper. It seemed a waste to Joan to use art paper to write what could have been done by a post-it note, but there was no other paper readily in sight. A writing implement was more problematic. Scouring the kitchen and living room sourced nothing. Eventually she returned to the art supplies and pulled out a wax crayon from a beautiful box set. It looked expensive and she could tell the quality from the softness of the crayon. This was no child's set. Every time she entered the bedroom, she could feel the eyes of the lounging man in painting on her. his smouldering eyes seemed to follow her where she went. Eyes down and biting her lip she tried passing every time without looking up, without making eye contact. But every time she snuck a glance to find his smouldering, dark eyed look and knowing grin staring back. It was making her face flush and making her stomach tingle.
Surprisingly the tack turned out to be the most readily available item; a roll of duct-tape was lying in one of the press drawers in the kitchen. With all the items gathered Joan quickly wrote out two identical notes in precise, practised block letters.
"Dear houseowner,
My name is Joan, and I would like to apologise most profusely in advance for taking nightly residence here in your wonderful cabin.
My family and I unfortunately suffered from a broken down car and no means of contacting repair services. In search of a phone we found your cabin, and as night had fallen by the time we found no-one home, we decided, having two children, that staying the night would be safer.
We will leave again in the morning, and ensure everything is left exactly the way it is, and leave you compensation for your kindness.
I thank you again,
Joan Miller & the Millers"
Happy that she struck a respectful chord and that the mention of children may dissuade and potential confrontation she opened the front door and quickly taped the note to it, before moving through the hall, and kitchen to the back door.
Opening it inward she turned and stuck the note to the glass panel. Smoothing out the tape she froze. There was a shape in the darkness.
Rising horror build as she slowly turned, night blindness revealing nothing but a hulking silhouette, standing four and a half feet tall, only a scant dozen feet away. A scream bubbled up from her stomach to Joan's throat. But the creature beat her to it.
"HHAAWWWWW" it bleated.
Joan's bubbling scream morphed at the last moment to a relieved half-laugh, half-moan. It was just a donkey. She began laughing.
"Jesus girl, you scared the daylights out of me."
The donkey silhouette "HHAaawwwed" again, turned profile. Joan let out a tiny gasp as she saw, silhouetted against the dark, the unmistakable shape of a large male member sliding from a sheath.
Curious, Joan fumbled inside the door for the light switch. Fingers finding the toggle she flicked the light on and gasped.
"What, the, fuck!?"
The donkey in front of her, grey-haired except for a straw -coloured streak near his head, was wearing the tattered remains of a yellow sundress. Filthy rags and strips hung from his shoulders and back.
"Oh you poor thing! Who did this to you!?" Joan exclaimed. She had to help the poor creature.
"One second!" she calmly and loudly said, hand raised open palmed to the donkey. Quickly popping inside she rummage around the kitchen drawers until she found her quarry. A pair of heavy-duty scissors.
Returning outside she saw the donkey, still in place, head turned to watch her.
Slowly Joan began approaching, wary of the creature's reaction. It seemed comfortable with her presence, head lowering and leaving out a calm "huff".
A few steps and Joan stood in front of the timid beast. Hand extended she offered it to the donkey. The beast took a few sniffs and closed the distance warming her hand with it's furry muzzle.
"Good boy!" Joan breathed, rubbing his head. He leaned into it, seemed to be enjoying it, so Joan got to work.
With her free hand she reached out, scissors open and slipped the lower blade under a shoulder strap and *snip*, cut it loose. Reaching over slowly to the other shoulder a similar motion cut the second strap. The fabric, however, was hanging on the donkey's back. She would have to move down.
She began rubbing the top of the donkey's head, the creature all the while making pleased noises.
*Snip* *Snip* *Snip*.
She began moving down his back cutting the rags free where she could. Halfway down and the donkey was still making content grunts and huffs.
*Snip* *Snip*.
One more.
*Snip*. "What in the world...", Joan breathed.
Now at the donkey's hindquarters, Joan stood aghast. The backside of this donkey could only be described as a mess of genitals.
It stood with its tail erect, revealing not only a glistening black doughnut anus, but a thick pair of leathery black vaginal lips, winking every few seconds to reveal a moist pink interior with a thick nubbly clit the size of thumb-tip. Underneath this dual-gendered donkey's vagina, hung two pointed grapefruit sized testicles in a furry grey sack. The slight rocking due to the donkey's winking bounced its testes on the next piece of bizarre anatomy. In front of the testicles, hanging from its lower abdomen, were two even larger sagging udders, each a lighter grey than the rest of the donkey's fur, tipped with two jet black rubbery teats. Jutting between the udder, now fully erect and on display was the donkey's foot and a half long mottled black phallus.
Surprised, shocked but not without a little bit of curiosity at the strange beast, Joan stepped back.
Now without the touch of a human, the donkey turned and "Hawwed" mournfully at Joan. She gasped as she saw its sizable phallus jump and slap off its underside.
It "hawwed" again, needily and with another slap, but Joan stayed where she was aghast. A tingle built in her stomach again. Mostly fright, but partly intrigue... arousal... There was something enrapturing about this performance.
Not expecting the human to return, the donkey turned and twitched. Another powerful *Slap* as the donkey's dick slapped against its heavy furred underbelly. All four hanging bags of its hindquarters jiggled at the impact. It let out a satisfied "Hawwww"
It turned again, as if to make sure that Joan was still watching. Then.
*Slap* *Slap*
Two more in rapid succession. This time its bleat was more charged in nature.
The butterfly's were now in Joan's throat. Her chest heaved as she began breathing heavily. She could feel her chest tighten, her bra sitting uncomfortably. Her nipples hardening. She told herself it was the night-air, even as she crossed her arms to press against them, feeling the glorious pressure.
*Slap* "Haaawww" *Slap* *Slap* "Heee-HAawww"
The donkey continued its show. A coppery, woody smell permeated the air and cloyed at Joan's throat. Looking back she could see the donkey's black lips had begun leaking profusely. Clear strands of vaginal mucus was dribbling down and coating the hind of her scrotum.
*Slap* *Slap* *Slap*.
The slapping now continued at an increasing pace, with the donkey grunting and pawing the ground with its front hoof.
Joan's jaw dropped in amazement as one final slap brought the donkey to a bellowing shuddering orgasm.
Ropes and ropes of milky semen shot from its dick and coated the damp grass underneath and in-front of it. On and on it shot, until half the ground around it was covered in stains, and the night air began smelling like bleach. Finally the donkey came to a dribbling stop and sighed.
Leaning back it gave its retreating penis a few cleaning licks before it retreated into its sheath.
The donkey then looked down at its handiwork, then up to Joan as if to see if she would be pleased by it.
The donkey held her gaze for a few moments more before turning and retreating into the woods.