A dirty littl' lurv story

Somtimes I have to laugh at the silliness of our mere human intelligence. Often, people assume that we are out here on our farm livin' pure and simple. The simple part is, admittedly, intentional, but I left purity behind MANY years ago. Still, I see how folks could make that assumption - as it is plainly clear that we hold our fambily values very dear to our hearts - even if no one else can tell what the hell our values are....thus, the guessing. Anyway, to further dispel such accusations, a little farm-side (light) porn for the sick and twisted:

About two moons ago, our resident stud (Windsor), sitting on his purebred German Angora heritage with great lament, hatched a plan of escape. But, he's a sneaky one and his plan would not reach fruition until his catalyst - a shameless hussy of a trash bred angora thing that I waxxed sentimental on and bought at an auction last spring - sprung from her cage upon thing 3's opening of it to feed her. Much commotion ensued! Blaming older sisters yelling at poor little thing 3, thing 2 running around trying (in vain) to catch the crazed lunatic, and Windsor quietly laughing to himself - for he knew what we fools couldn't imagine. He'd been working in a methodical, almost enchanting manner, to remove all the staples that hold the wire on the top of his cage so that the wire LOOKED like it was fastented but, it was just a scam. We all searched for the shameless hussy. We tried tempting her with grain, with carrots, trapping her for creeps sake but she eluded us every time. After a day or two, we sadly did not see her again and worried that she'd met her demise in our woodsy woods. THEN, the great escape. Thing 2 enters baffled. Thing 1 - FRUSTRATED, thing 3 - just trying to stay out of the blame line this time. "mom," they say all nice like so I know something is WRONG - "Windsor's gone". Much hyperventilating esues! What does GONE mean? Is he dead, did he just get out, how did he get out (insert freaky lady running out to rabbit hutches in very dramatic distress). No, his cage door is still latched, he's just not there. WTF? Didn't I fall for that hat trick in a seedy bar some time ago and learn my lesson?
I was just taunting you about the porn. I'll skip the detail and leave it to your sordid imaginations. Let's just say that Windsor was found immediately and returned to his REPAIRED AND RE-ENFORCED cage and the hussy remained out of sight and on the run until hubster was scooping poop out of the barn (punishment for which I refuse to provide explanation) and found a tidy little hole. He, being kinda sure of himself, reached in and found a fuzzy little black wabbit, the spawn of the bandit love affair. We call her 'Magick'. Note: the hussy continues to taunt me by coming close the the hutches and then being too quick for my dull senses and even duller body to capture. Damn her, but I kinda feel like cheering her on sometimes, ya know?