Page 48 of Milk
A sound caught in my throat, something between a sob and a moan. My body wouldn’t stop moving. My hips rolled, my breasts jiggling and dripping. Each attempt to get what I needed sparked more pleasure across my skin. I moaned again as the door opened.
A man stepped in with a polished steel machine and a set of tubes coiled like snakes. Carter took it from him, calm, focused, like this was any other day at the ranch. Except for the hunger in his eyes. That hunger was manic, barely restrained.
“I’ll do it,” he said roughly to the farm hand. “Leave.”
He turned back to me and knelt by the bed as the man walked out, leaving us alone. I stared at Carter as he attached the suction cups to my swollen nipples. The second the machine buzzed to life and I felt the light sucking, I screamed.
It was too much. It was perfect. It was exactly what I needed, but too intense and immediate to process.
Milk gushed out of me like I’d been holding it in for days. I watched as the glass bottles at the end of the suction machinefilled with it. Thick, pristine, healthy milk. It clung to the sides as more gushed out. The machine suction worked in pulses, ramping up, increasing the tension and relaxing after a gush. Each pulse felt almost orgasmic. Not just from the painful, yet blissful vibration of the milk gushing out of my nipples, but because my breasts felt overly full. Each pulse was relief, easing the pressure in my tits perfectly. Carter leaned forward to place a tender kiss on my forehead. I grabbed him and pulled him into a sloppy and needy kiss.
I slicked my tongue across his, sucked his tongue when he eased it into my mouth. Each time he tried to slow my frantic, desperate kisses, I bit back, desperate to make him feel what I felt. Want didn’t exist anymore. It was need – shameless, soul-churning need.
“Please, I need you to fuck me!” I begged.
My hips bucked. Desire echoed in his eyes. He needed me almost as badly as I needed him, but something was holding him back. Then, as another gush of milk broke from my tits, I knew what to do. I mooed. I bucked my hips, spread my legs and mooed, holding eye contact with him. The first moo wasn’t serious. It wasn’t heartfelt. It just came out so naturally that the second one, I don’t even remember planning. I just spilled out.
That sound did things to Carter. His lust flared visibly. His cock was trying to burst through his pants. For me; for my body. His control was as threadbare as my resistance. He moved to the bottom of the bed and placed himself between my legs. I spread them further, showing him my soaking pussy, and I mooed again.
“Not yet, Tiff, my beautiful cow.”
I cried in frustration, but my annoyance didn’t last. The machine was still working on me, making my brain melt into a soup of need and desire. My whole body ached for release.
Carter buried his face between my legs, gripping my thick thighs. He groaned as he licked my cunt, teasing my pussy lips, my clit, my entrance until he couldn’t hold back anymore. The wet noises were obscene, but barely audible over the slushing sound of my heavy tits being milked. Carter’s tongue, the machine, that relief and pleasure. It was all too much.
I came. I couldn’t tell if it was a single prolonged, intense orgasm or multiple. It blurred. Maybe the near black-out-intense ecstasy was a new type of orgasm, only possible after all these changes. I thought about Wren. All the things she said to me.
I didn’t believe that she’d stay voluntarily. Now, as Carter sucked my clit and the machine milked me, I believed her. I understood. It was better than any drug could possibly be. Nothing could compare to the sheer bliss ravaging my mind, body and soul.
I came again. Third time? Fourth? Who was counting? Not me. Time meant nothing.
At some point, the machine stopped. My tits felt light, a dull, almost pleasurable ache echoed in them. Carter lifted his soaking face from between my legs, rubbing his fingers across my pussy before offering them to me.
I sucked greedily. I was entranced. Drunk on orgasms without even getting fucked. Carter watched me intensely, his blue eyes penetrating my lustful soul.
“Is that enough, my cow?”
“I need more. I need to cum more. I need you inside me. Please,” I mewled.
I didn’t care that it was greedy. My body and its needs spoke louder than any good sense.
Refusing her was not getting easier. She wanted me. And I wanted her. My crotch throbbed violently. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this hard. It wasn’t time yet. I couldn’t do it.
Not even once we were alone in my room again.
“Please, Carter. Fuck me. Please,” My little cow pleaded.
Oh, how I wish I could. Or at least I could explain to her why I couldn’t. Instead of losing myself in that thought, I went to my desk.
“That milking session was just the beginning. Your body will be overproducing for a while. You’ll be more comfortable in our room.”
She looked confused as I wheeled a small cart towards her. This was much like the ones used in hospitals, but mine was prepared for another type of treatment. It held a smaller version of the suction machine with its vacuum pump, sex toys, oils,lube, even condoms, although we wouldn’t be using those. I parked it next to my beautiful, spotted cow, and took off my suit. I settled her in the contraption, where her tits were hanging, and rolled up my sleeves.
Slowly, I spread coconut oil across her tits. The skin could get raw from too much suction or get stretch marks from growing so fast. None of it was a problem, but I wanted to make her comfortable. Feeling her tits was an added bonus. Not to mention seeing how responsive she was. Even my lightest touch made her whimper, moan, and shudder.
“Carter!”
“Shush, Tiff. My beautiful cow. I’ll take good care of you.”
