An old medicine man in the hills, huh? Yeah, right. The big stranger just knows something about women’s tits. And he certainly knows how to fuck a girl nicely.
She took the dish of milk back to the farmhouse and poured it away. She washed her pussy at the yard pump, sponging off the stranger’s semen from her thighs with the cool well water. She put on a fresh cotton dress, and got on with her farm work.
All day, she heard him working and hammering on the roof, and when she squinted up at it, he seemed to be doing a good job. At sunset, he came down the ladder and stood in the doorway, wiping his hands.
‘That cooking smells good,’ he said, and that made her smile as much as his treatment of her in the morning. They ate sides of beef, potatoes, dumplings, corn and beans. Cold beer from the refrigerator. Ice cream for dessert. He told her about his travels and she told him about her life, how she inherited the farm age sixteen, and had no family at all. She was trying to make it work, but it was damn hard, and so lonesome.
‘I’ll help out all I can, girl,’ he said, leaning back. ‘By the way, where’s the bedroom?’
‘Top of the stairs, on the left.’
He finished his beer.
‘Be up there on the bed in ten minutes. I’m going to have a good wash down. When I come up, I want to find you naked, on the bed, on your hands and knees, your face just over the edge of the bed. Understand, my pretty cow?’
‘Yes, stranger. There’s soap in the bathroom for you.’
‘Ten minutes, mind.’
‘Yes, sir.’
When he entered the bedroom, he was naked, his half erect cock swaying handsomely in the twilight. She was in doggy the position he had ordered, with her ass toward the bedhead and her face sticking out over the end of the bed. She thought he would straddle her from the rear again, milk her or mount her or both, but he came and stood in front of her, his semi stiff shaft right in front of her eyes. It was superbly thick, ridged with veins and lines of hard flesh, its bare knob stark in the dim light. It smelled pleasantly of soap.
‘You’re a brave girl,’ he said, stroking her face. ‘Running a farm by yourself, taking a wager like that, then a pounding from a stranger in a meadow. Now let’s see how brave you can be.’
‘How?’ she asked, looking up at him, though she kind of knew the answer already.
He smiled and placed his cock in her mouth. She never had this before, but she closed her eyes and sucked him obediently, feeling the splendid knob grow bigger and harder between her lips. In seconds, the monster was fully upright, and she was struggling to control it. She felt him grip her hair, twist it in his hands, and use it to force her head onto his cock. She grunted and squealed in protest, but in response, he simply fucked her mouth.
She was forced to keep her head still, while he rammed that huge cock in and out of her jaws, using the friction against her tongue, palate and lips to give himself pleasure. At times his knob thumped the back of her throat, and she gagged and squealed for mercy, but he simply gripped her hair tighter. When he came, she was stunned at the sheer quantity of the stuff she was forced to swallow, and its peppery taste as she gulped and slurped down wave after wave of semen.
In the end, he went still, sighed, and released her hair. She groaned and spat the cock out, wiping her mouth with her hand.
‘You’re damnably rough, stranger,’ she muttered.
‘You took it well, girl. Very well.’ He patted her face gently. ‘So you’ve been all alone in here for three years. What about nights? What do you dream about in this big lonesome bed of yours?’
‘Lots of stuff,’ she said, still swallowing the last of his semen, still poised in her obedient doggy position.
‘You dream about men?’
‘Sometimes I do.’
‘You dream about sex?’
‘Sure, why not? Sure I have sex thoughts, sex dreams. I’m a healthy young woman.’
He laughed and went to sit against the bed head behind her. She looked between her legs and saw him sprawled there regally, eyeing her raised backside.
‘Spread your legs for me, milk cow. Give me a view of that sweet little cunt and asshole you have. That’s it, I got a good view now.’
She giggled and waggled her ass for him, enjoying having her holes on display to her man.
‘And what do you do when you have these sex thoughts?’ he went on. ‘Do you touch yourself? Come on, tell me.’
‘Sure I touch myself. I had no man, and I needed fulfilment. Lots of fulfilment.’
‘Good milk cow, that’s nice. I like a woman who masturbates freely. Do it for me now.’
‘What?’ she looked round to see him smiling. ‘What? Masturbate here in front of you? In this doggy position? Are you crazy?’
‘Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t used this position for some solo fun. You’re holding that pose as if you were born to it. I bet you’ve been doggy-wanking in here half the night sometimes.’
She blushed, a delicious burning that spread right to the tips of her dangling nipples, and aroused her hugely. She reached under her belly and cupped her moist pussy in her hand.
‘Well, aren’t you clever?’ she said huskily. ‘You got me all figured out, don’t you?’
It was true, of course. She loved to masturbate on her hands and knees, imagining a man behind her, watching herself in the big mirror, seeing her cone-shaped tits rocking and swaying. She grinned, closed her eyes and performed for him, masturbating openly and without inhibitions, spreading her labia wide and plunging her fingers in and out, and finally rubbing her engorged clitoris to a shameless climax that got her splayed ankles quivering and her hair flying across her face.
He slapped her ass when she was done.
‘Beautiful, my dear. A pleasure to observe.’
‘Yeah, well,’ she panted, clambering around to put her arms round him, and her face on his powerful chest, her heart still thumping. ‘I had lots of practice.’
He kissed her and stroked her hair.
In the morning, she woke early, to find early sunlight streaming through the windows. The stranger was gone, but she heard him moving up on the roof, and soon he was hammering at the repair work.
Fucking hard worker, she thought, inhaling his scent from the pillow. Hope he doesn’t finish that roof too soon.
When she finished some of her morning chores, she made a pot of coffee and yelled up to the roof to ask how he liked it.
‘Black and strong,’ he yelled back.
She took a cupful up the ladder, and found him working on a flat section of the roof that she occasionally used for sunbathing. He was naked except for his snakeskin boots, his powerful body sparkling with sweat. The roof boards were split and worn, and he was replacing them skilfully with new lumber. She handed him the cup of coffee, and they kneeled facing each other.
‘Where’s the milk?’ he said, sternly.
‘You said no milk,’ she pouted back. ‘Dummy!’
‘Where’s the milk?’ he said again. ‘Where is it, girl?’
She looked into his unblinking eyes.
‘In my breasts, sir. The milk is in my big, pointed titties.’
‘That’s right. You know what to do.’
‘Here?’
He nodded. She sighed, and took her shirt off, then her jeans.
‘You never wear lingerie, girl?’ he asked.
‘Nope. I prefer it without.’ She cupped her tits and presented them to him, fondling the sides with her thumbs. ‘Ready for your milk, stranger?’
‘Stay kneeling like that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He went around behind her, and kneeled at her ass, cupping her tits with his hand. He began the delicious kneading and stroking that he performed the previous day, and in this new, upright position it was equally strange and pleasant for Beth. She hummed with enjoyment, and leaned back against his broad chest. He progressed to knead her nipples, squeezing and tugging at her woman’s udders with his knowing fingers. She
gave little cries of pleasure, spreading her naked legs instinctively. The sunlight was wonderful on her exposed cunt, and she twined her arms back around the stranger’s neck and rubbed her head against his jaw like a satisfied cat.
‘Oh, stranger! Is it coming?’
‘Yes, it is, my pretty milk cow. Here it comes now. See!’
Beth looked down at her boobs. The man was kneading them firmly, pulling them taut and squeezing them with expert milking movements. Suddenly, a long spurt of milk flew from her left breast, followed by a similar one from the right. The sense of release was highly arousing, and again that adorable heat flooded her tits as she gave up her milk for him.
She was milked happily like that, her thin liquid spurting out in sparkling streams onto the old, sunlit wooden boards of the roof, making crazy patterns that faded and were refreshed as each spurt struck a different place.
‘How does it feel, milk cow?’ he murmured in her ear.
‘It’s so wild, so free,’ she panted. ‘I’ve got so much milk to give!’
‘You have, you have,’ he whispered. ‘You’re a good little cow for your stranger, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, sir, yes!’
She could feel his cock rigid against her back as he reached for the coffee cup beside them on the roof. He held the cup at arm’s length with one hand, and with his other hand he milked each of her teats in turn, aiming the streams of fluid into the cup, where they splashed and frothed. The coffee slowly turned pale, then a creamy colour. Finally, he desisted, and raised the cup to his mouth, sighing with approval as he tasted it.
‘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.
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