Would Merriam ever get out of the woods? Hours scrambling over rocks had her tired and bleeding. Appeared a green glade, a bridge over a rippling stream, a path.

On the bridge stood the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Tall, dressed in green tights and ruffled white shirt, he looked like a pirate’s cabin boy. He went to a knee, extending his hand to hers.

He kissed her tenderly, his long tongue slipping out to brush between two fingers. His other hand lifted her skirt. She had a warm feeling he could sense over his cooler demeanor. The next kiss went between her legs. Merriam joined him on the ground, a time spent near-swoon.

Merriam awoke climaxing around what she thought was the boy’s cock, but no one was there. To her horror, something was in her, trying to come out. One last orgasmic contraction yielded a large frog from her snatch. ‘GLOORP’ It belched.

The path led to a paved road. Merriam saw a car in the distance. As it approached, she started waving her arms, yelling, trying to flag them down.

‘Bump-bump’

Inside the car the wife said, “What was that?”

“Fucking frog in the road.”

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