B00C1JURMO EBOK (3 page)

‘That’s just right, my cow. You’ve given good milk today, and lots of it.’

‘Thank you, stranger.’ She ignored her dripping nipples, and felt behind her back for his cock. It was as hard as the lumber he was hammering.

‘That’s right, my beauty,’ he said. ‘When I’ve finished my coffee, you’re going to milk me.’

‘Huh? Milk you? What do you mean?’

He reached round and caressed her pussy in the sunlight, sliding his fingers inside her, making her gasp in aroused surprise. He made no secret of feeling her inner walls, testing their fleshy muscles.

‘You’re going to milk my cock with this tight little cunt of yours. You may have been a virgin up to now, but you’ve got a strong, powerful little slit here. With a bit of training, you’ll be milking me nicely.’

He finished his coffee and showed her how. He undressed and lay on his back, his stiff cock jutting up in the sunshine. He showed her how to squat over his cock and take just the tip into her wet cunt. Then he encouraged her to grip with her cunt muscles, explaining how other women did it and how firmly they could hold a shaft in there.

‘Oh, that’s it, milk cow. You’re a natural! That’s excellent control of your pussy muscles.’

She giggled, and gripped harder, provoking a groan of delight from him. She squeezed and released him, using her tight grip to tug and jerk on his knob as if she was using her hands to milk an udder. Slowly, his shaft slid up inside her, until she was using her entire cunt walls to massage and tug at the whole length and girth of his hefty great cock. The movements were stimulating for her too, and as she gripped and squeezed tighter and faster, she found herself approaching a profound climax.

She came looking into his eyes, squatting over him, writhing her pelvis, tugging and pulling, with her insides contracting from the orgasm. That brought him to a finish as well, and she felt a whole fountain of semen pouring against her cervix. Only when she was sure that she milked every final drop, only then did she cease her twisting, tugging motion, and slacken her cunt vice.

He groaned and took hold of her tits, still dribbling with milk.

‘You’re a good woman, milk cow. I’m glad I found you in the barn.’

She leaned down and kissed him, and gave his cock a final, rough little squeeze with her cunt, enjoying her new talent enormously.

‘You better get on with the roof, stranger. I got my own things to do.’

*

Time passed in a variety of stimulating ways. Rest days aside, they would both rise early, and one of them would fix breakfast in the big farmhouse kitchen, while the other washed naked in the yard. If she made coffee, he would milk her standing up, straight into the cup. At other times, he would place a saucer on the floor, and she would get over it in her cow position, and he milked her while straddling her rear.

Once, when he milked a lot of her into a dish, he commanded her to make pancakes with her own milk – and though she refused and protested, he reminded her of their wager, and all the damn work he was doing around the place, and she finally agreed.

Her milk mixed just fine with the flour and eggs, and even she had to admit those pancakes tasted pretty good.

On another morning, she made hot cakes, and when she wondered aloud what to spread on them, he unzipped himself and presented his two big, dangling balls.

‘You’re not fucking serious,’ she said slowly. ‘No way.’

‘You drink my come freely enough,’ he pointed out. ‘Why, just last night, you sucked me on your knees perfectly. You gulped and swallowed so loud, I thought you’d wake the animals. Why not spread it on the hot cakes? Hmm?’

She had to admit he had a point, and his penis was already springing awake anyway. So she jerked him off over the kitchen table, catching the flood of semen very artfully in a saucer, and spreading the pale, creamy goo with a knife onto the cakes, eating them as he watched in approval.

‘How does that taste, girl?’

‘Beats anything they got at the store.’

‘I guess that’s a compliment.’

‘I guess it is.’

After breakfast, they might go about their tasks – her tending the animals, the vegetable plot and fields, him working on the old house and barn or the dilapidated fences. At other times, though, he would take her after breakfast out to the meadow, and put her in her cow pose in the long grass, and milk her straight onto the ground for a long time. She was continuously amazed at how much fresh milk he could bring from her with his firm, repeated tugs and caresses – and always delighted too at how satisfying and arousing it was for her.

Once, though, they had an argument over something small, and she yelled and called him a cruel fucking bastard who was just using a poor, lonely young farm girl for his kicks. He didn’t answer, but sent her immediately up to the bedroom to wait for him.      

Something in his eyes told her that she had to comply, and she went upstairs, fighting back her tears and cursing him. In the bedroom, however, she undressed and instinctively leaned forward on the window ledge, her tits jutting out into the sunlight and her ass raised into the room. She waited for him obediently in that position, wondering what he was going to do to her.

He entered after a few minutes.

‘Good position, my little milk cow. You’re expecting to be punished, aren’t you?’

She sniffed and nodded. He walked around her, studying her. She realised he was holding something.

‘What the fuck?’ she whimpered. ‘You’ve brought the cow whip from the barn.’

‘That’s right.’

The whip in his hand was a yard length of plaited leather. He made it crack in the air, and she flinched. He was clearly experienced in the use of a whip.

‘When a milk cow misbehaves, she gets punished,’ he said, softly. ‘Did you misbehave, my little beauty?’ She nodded, fascinated by him. ‘Then you must be disciplined, my darling. My bad, bad milk cow.’ He cracked the whip again, and she leaned forward and raised her buttocks for punishment.

The first stroke of the lash on her rump was delightfully harsh, sending a jolt of pleasant pain from her pussy up her spine. The strokes came again and again, some soft and some wickedly hard, each one making her squeal and moan. He finished with an upward lash, up between her parted thighs and onto her pussy itself. She screamed in shock, but stayed in position dutifully.

‘Are you sorry?’ he demanded.

‘Yes, I’m very, very sorry,’ she sniffed, her ass and pussy smarting in arousal. ‘I’ll be good from now on.’

‘That’s better,’ he said. He came and stood behind her, and cupped her tits in his hands. After the whipping, the grip of his fingers was masterful, and she whimpered in pleasure. He milked her like that, with her breasts sticking out over the window ledge, tugging and caressing her trembling nipples to send spurts of milk shooting out into the air and across the farmhouse porch below. The milking went on for a long time, until Beth spread her ass wide and took his stiff cock in her pussy, and he humped her roughly with his milky hands on her shoulders.

After that, they didn’t argue much at all. They each got on with their appointed tasks, and he took his pleasure from her whenever he wished, and she did not complain.

*

Her favourite days were the rest days. She would wake, yawn and stretch, and reach instinctively for the morning erection that he never failed to provide. She serviced it obligingly, with her hand, mouth or cunt, and received an orgasm from his tongue, fingers or cock in return. After that, they dozed for hours, giving each other sexy little compliments and telling stories about their lives. Late mornings, he would put a rope around her and lead her down to the yard like a lassoed mare. There, he might wash her hair while she squatted under the pump, or he might soap down her ass and pussy with his strong fingers. If he untied the rope, she might shave him with his old cut-throat razor, the blade flashing in the sun.

The first time she did that, he returned the favour. He tied her hands to the pump above her head, and made her sit in the hot midday mud. Then he soaped her sparse, copper-blond bush and trimmed it down to stubble with his razor, finishing the job with a prolonged licking from his big, probing tongue against her labia. He licked every goose-bump and crevice, until she wept and spurted pussy juice over his face as she climaxed in her bonds.

Finally, he untied her, put her in her obedient cow position in the mud, brought the three-legged stool from the barn and milked her firmly from the side just as he would have milked the farmhouse cow. She wept again as she saw her lovely, pale milk splattering into the dirt – then sobbed with delight as his insistent tugging flushed her dangling breasts with the heat of another climax, without him even touching her cunt.

‘Bastard!’ she sobbed. ‘Bastard! You made me come through my tits.’

‘Best way to come, my dear.’ He gave her repeated sex tremors, milking her nipples into the mud. ‘And I didn’t hear you say no.’

‘You fucking cunt, stranger,’ she grunted, arching her back and letting him milk her rhythmically again and again. ‘You gorgeous cunt!’

She also found he had a taste for taking her unawares. One morning, she was kneeling in the vegetable plot, plucking the weeds out from between the hard, green zucchini. She heard him approach behind her, then felt him tip her forward, raise her dress and spread her legs aggressively and slap her backside. She yelled and cursed him, loving every moment of the rough handling. He rolled her onto her back and straddled her chest, unzipping his pants as she spat and hissed at him, already highly aroused. He just laughed, with his shaft sticking up in the sunlight, and grabbed one of the largest zucchini from the row, snapping it off its tendrils. The damn thing was nearly a foot long and looked like his big, stiff cock, and they both knew it.

Without speaking, he put it to her mouth – and, to her own amazement, she sucked at it eagerly like a cock. When it was soaking with her saliva, he took it and held behind him, placing it against the lips of her vulnerable cunt.

She squirmed and pretended to resist, but the wetness of her labia betrayed her lust. He penetrated her with the zucchini, hard and fast, making her utter a wail of delight that echoes around the farm. He silenced her by applying his cock to her mouth, forcing her to suck him in the same rhythm that he was using to screw her with the vegetable.

When they were both done, and she had climaxed madly on the hard girth of the zucchini, and he had poured his blasts of semen into her submissive mouth, they sprawled and dozed together in the sunshine, then went back to their chores.

One of her most erotic times happened one evening, on the porch. There was an old four-person swing seat left over from years back, that creaked as it moved. At sunset, the stranger settled back with a cold beer, and instructed her to undress and lay across his lap, face down. She did so, arranging herself across him with her bare backside in his lap. The porch lanterns were burning, and the mesh screens kept out the bugs, and he caressed her rump very tenderly, telling her what a good woman she was, and what a good milk cow she was turning out to be.

‘You really think so?’ she smiled.

‘Oh, yes. Of all the women I’ve milked, and, damn, there’s quite a few, you are turning out to be the prettiest, most obedient and most abundant in your supply of girl juice.’

She giggled at the compliment, raising her ass in the hope of some more attention from his hand. He gave it to her. He began to spank her softly with his right hand, and with his left hand he reached under her torso and gathered her tits together in his palm. She raised herself a little, giving him full access, and found that he knew how to bring her nipples together in his one hand, squeezing the two big studs together over and over again. With a cry, she began to release her milk, and he spanked her ass gently with one hand, and milked her tits firmly with the other hand, sending her streams of fluid to splatter on the porch floor. When she was almost spent, she clambered up and straddled him, offering him her swollen breasts in turn. He suckled briefly on each tit, sucking the nipple with the same expertise he used when milking her by hand, and she gladly fed him her last supplies of the day.

*

As time went on, Beth realised his work around the farm was coming to completion. The roof was all done, and the fences were efficiently repaired. He tended the ditches too, and installed a new wind pump for the well. After that, she began to hurriedly think of other things he could do, and he also suggested a few himself.

He cut down a dead tree near the creek and chopped it into a massive stack of firewood. He filled all the holes in the yard and put in a gate that he made from spare lumber. She complained about the window shutters, and he took them all down, planed and oiled them, and put them back up. He went over the roof a second time, painting the gables and fixing on a weather vane that he carved himself.

‘It’s in the shape of a cockerel,’ she observed, looking up at it. ‘A big, swinging cock. Typical of a man.’

That night, he stayed up late, whittling and carving. The next day, she found him fixing another weather vane, facing the first one. This new vane was in the shape of a pussy cat.