MILF: Sweet Cream Island Hucow Farm (Young MILF, First, Voyeur, Romance)

by Miranda Cougar

  On that morning, I made a promise. I promised the government lawyers and Dr. Kale Craig, that I wouldn’t have sexual relations with any men. It was a requirement of my admission to the experimental fertility program. And I’d agreed to it willingly not knowing how difficult a promise it would be to keep.

  At the time, I didn’t even consider what I was giving up. I would have traded anything to become a mother – even any hope of ever becoming a sexually fulfilled woman.

  Damn them for making me promise not to have sex. They knew how hard it would be for me once I started the hormones, but they made me to promise to stay chaste anyway.

  Sexual abstinence wasn’t a requirement included in any of the other milkmaid’s contracts – only mine. I guess that’s the unfortunate penalty I’ve paid for being the first woman to participate in this successful medical experiment.

  At least I’ve been rewarded for my participation in the experiment. Dr. Craig kept his promise. He made me a mother – twice. And, oh how I’d always longed to live my life as a mother.

  For as long as I could remember, I’d wanted more than anything to be the mother of many children. And I’d wanted to raise them on a lush, green planet like New Maui.

  Dr. Craig kept his promise to me when he brought me to live here on one of the most beautiful and family friendly planets in all the eight colonies.

  New Maui is the newest of the eight terraformed planets. And it is still a gorgeous and practically untouched world in search of a population. My beautiful new home holds open and free spacious scenery, unlike the cramped industrial metal satellite city I was born on.

  Curse that wretched metal orb. The harsh and unnatural conditions of that satellite were what had made me barren in the first place. Like all the young women who lived on that metal globe, I submitted myself for fertility testing in the months before my eighteenth birthday. And like so many other women before me, I tested infertile.

  But, ever since I was young I had always imagined myself as a mother. It was what I knew I was born to be. So, when I found out I would likely never bear children, I felt as though my heart would break in two. And it probably would have if one of the staff members at the local, rarely successful fertility clinic hadn’t told me about the new experimental fertility research being conducted at The Farm.

  That’s why I signed up for this experiment. It brought me to a planet that I had long adored and had always dreamt of visiting. And it gifted me with the two loves of my life, my children.

  Although I’m a sexually starved woman — my life is good. I’m mother to a daughter and a son. And I hold important and fulfilling work. I’m a Milkmaid. I help to nourish the universe.

  Damn this. I’m so horny, and my breasts feel so heavy and full with my milk. I can’t delay my morning milking any longer. I must submit both my body and mind to the ritual of the milking immediately.

  Chapter 4

  I leaned forward and shook my bosom loose from my bra the way I always do before I allow my milking machine to perform its function.

  As vital parts of the milking ritual, my breast pump and milking machine work in tandem to gently pull the cream from my heavy tits.

  I can’t delay any longer. This milking rite must occur at least every eight hours, or my breasts will overfill. They will grow large and painfully stuffed with milk.

  To prevent discomfort, I, as well as all of the other four hundred Milkmaids at The Farm empty our breasts of our milk completely every six hours. The artificial intelligence in my living quarters even performs a slightly altered version of the ritual for me while I’m asleep at night so I can awake refreshed, not burdened down with the stretched soreness of breasts overfull and heavy with rich cream.

  Often times the old ways are the best. The ancient ways. At least, that’s what the elders on this planet are always telling me. And they seem to be adventurous, joyful people full of the wisdom of living on this beautiful, lush green world. So, I’ve taken their advice to heart.

  I’ve chosen to complete my frequent daily milkings in the ancient earth way. The Hucow way.

  Every morning, I sit on the edge of my bed and slide my skin-tight virtual reality hood over my face. I breathe in the musky scent of tuberose and jasmine. And I relax. I give myself over to the sensations enveloping my body as the milking rite begins.

  I am floating. My body floats face down over an ancient farm. It’s an old earth farm with cows and horses and tall muscular bodied Hawaiian paniolo cowboys. As I float toward the milking barn, a bronze-skinned cowboy gazes up and tips his hat to me.

  “Aloha, little lady,” the shirtless man greets me and I blush. In real life, I’m known to be a feisty woman like my best friend, Tita. I rarely blush. But, here in the virtual world, I’m a swooning, red-faced young hucow eager to be milked.

  I’ve spoken to Napua about the stark difference between my persona within the virtual world and the real one. At first, I was worried something was wrong with me because the two sides of my personality were so different. In real life, I would never allow a man to handle my body as vigorously as my pretend cowboy does in the virtual world.

  But, in the make-believe reality of this ancient Hucow farm, I crave the hands-on treatment. I shamelessly allow my cowhand to manipulate my breasts in all sorts of stimulating ways.

  Napua tells me my experience is typical. She says the virtual world allows a woman’s mental defenses to lower. The artificial intelligence embedded within the milking pump reaches into the mind and pulls out the fantasy that is guaranteed to stimulate the production of the most milk. And it just happens that having my bosom manipulated by a handsome cowhand while I fuss and fawn over him like a complete imbecile is what stimulates my mammary glands most intensely.

  My subconscious mind always invites the same cowboy to milk me, time after time. The tall, muscular farm hand is an exact replica of Dr. Kale Craig. From his short midnight black mane to his dimpled cheeks, to his wide muscular chest, my virtual reality cowboy is a dead ringer for Kale.

  Clearly, I have a strong subconscious desire to be sexually pleasured by the good doctor over and over again while he squeezes and milks the cream out of my full, aching tits.

  Napua and the island elders have told me for years to stop overthinking my desires and just go with what feels good. So, now I try. Every day I try. I try my best to relax into the rough pleasures my sunkissed cowboy gifts me four times a day, every day of my life here on The Farm.

  I’m still floating. As my mind relaxes into my virtual reality fantasy, I float right into the uplifted arms of cowboy Kale. I focus my vision down on the chiseled angles of his jaw as he catches me mid-air and holds me up in his strong arms.

  “Poor baby,” he teases, jutting out his bottom lip while eyeing my full bosom. “Your tits are too round and full with milk. Your boobs and especially your teats must be painfully sore.”

  I bob my head up and down in agreement with his assessment of the overfull state of my breasts. Then I swipe my moist pink tongue across my lower lip wetting it.

  “Please cowboy,” I beg. “Please milk me. My tits are too big and round for their own good and they need to be milked.”

  Kale’s dark brown eyes catch the bright light of the sun and glisten up at me.

  “Damn, you’re a sexy cowboy,” I moan as I feel a familiar wetness moisten my pussy lips and slip down between my inner thighs.

  My strong farm hand inhales deeply.

  “You’re overdue for a milking, sweet thing,” he remarks in his husky cowboy drawl.

  I stare down at his rugged handsome features and feel the tight buds of my nipples tingle in anticipation of what I know is about to happen.

  “Poor, sweet hucow,” he laments while shaking his head. “You need to come into the barn to be milked more often. Just look at these swollen tits of yours. They’re already leaking cream.”

  I tilt my head down and gaze at my naked breasts. Sure enough, I see drops of white cream pooling at the tips of my
nipples.

  “Please milk me,” I beg. My chest heaves as I plead desperately for the sweet release of a milking.

  Without requiring any more urging, cowboy Kale thrusts his head forward and wraps his lips around one of my firm pink nipples.

  He sucks. Oh, god, does he suck intensely at my tit.

  “Oh, yes,” an enthusiastic moan escapes from my mouth as I reach down to slide my fingers over my throbbing clit.

  I push my fingers down in short strokes, rubbing my wet arousal over the sensitive surface of my sex.

  “Suck that tit cowboy,” I growl out my passion, feeling like my usual feisty self as my long brown curls fall in front of my face and I whip my head forward with pleasure.

  At first, Kale follows my urgings and sucks harder, but then he allows my nipple to fall from his lips.

  Suddenly, something happens that has never occurred in any of my previous virtual reality milking sessions.

  I’m flying.

  I’m not floating. Long white wings have sprouted from my upper back and are lifting me, causing my body to fly upwards into the sky.

  I’m flying.

  Correction – we’re flying. My cowboy and I are flying up and over the barn and the fields where the cows are grazing. The view is breathtaking. It’s the most beautiful lush, green landscape I’ve ever witnessed. I’m in heaven.

  Kale is still holding me securely in his arms even though we’re both soaring through the clouds with our wings spread wide.

  Without warning, he dips his head down and devours both my breasts. With swift motions, he sweeps his head from side to side, flicking his tongue rapidly over the tips of each of my oversensitive nipples. I cry out in bliss as my chest muscles twitch with pleasure from his expert stimulation.

  Next, he chooses one tit and focuses in on it. He begins by sweeping his tongue under the tight bud and licking. He licks up the full length of my tightly pebbled nipple then circles his tongue down around the firm nub as he sucks his way back down to its base. He takes the soft pillow of my sensitive breast inside his mouth and squeezes.

  God, his mouth feels divine wrapped around my breast.

  I clench my pussy’s inner walls. They tighten and pulse as I give in to the pleasure his tongue is licking into my tit. My core quivers and shakes. The sensation is jolting, but in a blissful way.

  Even though we’re flying together aimlessly across the bright morning sky, I still have my finger pushed firmly against my clit. I press down hard and rub my sex insistently, giving my body over to sensations of pure bliss.

  I need this. I need the pleasure that’s exploding inside of my pussy right now. It’s an ecstasy that’s enhanced by the lapping of Kale’s tongue against the stiff peaks of my nipples.

  I need him to begin suckling me soon. I need Kale to flatten his tongue against the underside of my breast and suck. I need him to lick and suck down my creamy milk until he drinks me dry.

  I need sweet relief.

  Thoughts of having my breasts drained of their cream trigger my let down reflex. And I feel my milk begin to flow as Kale continues to rhythmically slide his tongue along the soft underside of my left breast.

  That’s it cowboy. Do it. Suck on my milky titty.

  My dirty thoughts make my cheeks blush fire red and set the inner walls of my hot core to convulsing in pleasure again.

  The warm suction of his mouth is beginning to pull the cream right out of my nipple.

  It’s always a curious sensation, feeling that first release of milk. My chest muscles twitch then jump as my flow begins. The sensation is jarring at first and I gasp. But within seconds I moan as I feel the sweet, pleasurable release of warm milk flowing smoothly from my breast into my cowboy’s mouth.

  I’m mewling now. This feels so damn good. Kale’s warm, wet mouth wrapped gently around my nipple is the softest, sweetest pleasure I’ve ever experienced. I’m in hucow heaven.

  Chapter 5

  My chest feels weightless.

  So, I breathe in deep, enjoying the ease with which I can fill my lungs full of air. The air up here in the clouds breathes in crisp and cool. Its flavor is refreshing in my mouth – like the sweet iciness of melting snow cones.

  Cowboy Kale and I are still flying through the air. We’re both swimming amongst this earth farm’s white fluffy clouds. Our bodies are weightless, yet pressed up firmly against each other while my cowboy continues to suckle at my breast.

  I don’t know how long he’s been nursing for, but I would guesstimate it’s been nearly half an hour. My ease of breathing tells me that both of my breasts have been fully drained of their creamy bounty.

  And yet, Kale’s mouth is still sucking tenderly at my left breast.

  I’m surprised that at this point in the milking process the virtual reality scene is so calm and serene. I don’t feel any of the pulling or tugging sensations that typically accompany this stage of the milking ritual.

  Usually, cowboy Kale’s mouth would be vigorously sucking at my breasts right now. Or his teeth would be nibbling at my nipples and his hands would be squeezing me firmly in an attempt to pull every last drop of milk from my tingling bosom.

  I breathe deeply again. This gentle milking feels…divine. It’s soothing. I could almost fall asleep, I feel so relaxed.

  Cowboy Kale releases his suction on my breast and drops my nipple from his mouth. I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, contented to have enjoyed several orgasms as well as experienced the pleasure of having both of my breasts emptied so completely.

  I blink, my eyes ready to leave the virtual world behind and return to the real one.

  Suddenly and expectedly cowboy Kale is gone.

  But unexpectedly and without warning two other cowboys replace him. And these men have angry faces – scowling faces that I don’t recognize.

  “We’re here to milk you Tita,” they growl.

  “Um, sorry, but you both have the wrong hucow,” I answer the two hissing men. “I’m Aurora, not Tita. You men are trying to milk the wrong lady.”

  “No, we have the right cow,” the brown-haired cowboy insists and then pushes his open mouth forward and onto my exposed pink nipple.

  The blonde cowboy accompanying him latches onto my other tit, and soon both men’s mouths are clamping down tightly on each of my nipples.

  “Ouch!” I scream from the pain of being sucked on so forcefully.

  As the two men tighten their suction on my screaming hot nipples, I feel a burst of hormones flood into my bloodstream. The sudden spike in my hormonal levels sends my heart thumping against my ribs and drives my entire body to shake and tremble uncontrollably.

  My tongue wags from side to side inside of my mouth. And the tips of my fingers and toes tingle and burn as my arms and legs flail wildly in mid-air.

  The intensity of my body’s shaking is too strong. And I feel as though my limbs will break from the rough treatment this virtual reality milking machine is inflicting on me.

  Something is wrong. My breast pump is malfunctioning. It’s never happened before and I’m afraid.

  No, I’m terrified.

  What if this contraption squeezes off my nipples or shakes me to death?

  “Help!” I hear myself shout out loud, pleading for the assistance of the artificial intelligence in my living quarters that is supposed to ensure my milking experience is 100% safe.

  My mind races. What can I do to save myself? How can I free my body from this death trap milking machine?

  Then it dons on me. I shouldn’t even be having the thought that I’m strapped into a malfunctioning milking machine. My mind should be fully immersed inside the virtual reality fantasy world. Something is very, very wrong.

  “Help!” I scream again, and the shaking of my body stops. But, the two virtual cowboys who are sucking the life out of my tits remain.

  “Please help me!” I shout, but there’s still no response from the outside world.

  My breasts burn. I feel nibbling followed b
y a pinching, biting sensation at the base of both nipples.

  “Help!” I scream with the full strength of my lungs before I pass out from an excruciating squeezing pain that seizes both of my abused breasts then plunges them into a pit of molten hot magma.

  Chapter 6

  Her eyes popped open then she screamed.

  “I can’t feel my chest! I can’t feel my breasts!” She shouted her words in quick succession.

  I allowed her a moment to scream out her terror before gently parting my lips. Hopefully the words I intended to speak would comfort her. More than anything, I wanted to soothe away the terror of her milking ordeal.

  “Aurora—” I spoke softly.

  “Do I still have nipples?” She interrupted the speech I’d planned to deliver with a desperate question.

  She panted her query while looking down at the thick layer of bandages wrapped tightly around her chest. Then she lifted her head up and stared at me, her eyes pleading with mine.

  At that moment, I saw how much she relied on me to take care of her – to keep her safe. And I had failed her. I’d failed to put measures in place that would have prevented the milking machine from subjecting her to the painful ordeal she’d endured.

  “Yes, you still have your nipples,” I answered her as calmly and directly as I could considering the circumstances.

  I kept my fists clenched behind my back to hide the trembling of my hands from her vision. I didn’t want her to see how deeply this incident had shaken me. I’d almost lost the woman I love – and our two beloved children had almost lost their mother.

  “We’ve kept you unconscious for a week—”

  “Who’s looking after my babies?”

  “They’re both with my father. He’s helping to look after them in the 24 hour daycare inside the local elders’ village—”