Organization: St. Dismas Infirmary for the Incurably Informed
MILKING by Milford Ray Slabaugh (first published in Friction Magazine in 1989)
By my sophmore year in college, money was running pretty low. My parents, never rich to begin with, had other children to educate, so that summer, when my uncle Bob offered to take me on as a hand on his dairy farm, it seemed a good idea, even at $50 a week with room and board. I didn't know cows from horses, but I was willing to try country living for a while.
Uncle Bob had two teenage sons and one hired hand named Paul. The five of us took care of about 300 cows--which, if you don't know dairy life, is just barely enough help. I spent my first three days on the job mucking out the barns. It was a good, if unpleasant, way to work out and a good substitute for my regular weights routine.
On the morning of the fourth day, Paul woke me at 4:00 a.m. to show me the wonderful world of milking; it was to be one of my regular jobs. After mucking, anything would be a welcome relief, even though I had to get up at an ungodly hour.
Paul introduced me to an old cow with dark yellow hair, a white belly, and a placid, trusting nature. "This is Buttercup," he said. "She's afraid of the milking machines, so we have to milk her by hand. We'd get rid of her, but she was one of your uncle's first cows, and a damned good producer, too." Paul put the stool and pail into position, sat down, and instructed, "Now watch me closely."
I manuevered closer, fascinated, as he grabbed one teat and gave it a firm but gentle pull. "See how I did that?"
"Uh, better show me again."
"Sure, just watch awhile." He took one teat in each hand and began milking with a steady, consistent rhythm.
I knew I was supposed to watch his hands, but standing over him like that gave me a clear view down the front of his shirt. Paul was one of those Mediterranean types with dark hair and an olive complexion. He also had well-rounded muscles, a bulging basket, and a heavy coat of chest hair that peered out of his half-unbuttoned shirt.
I noticed that Paul always wore his clothes in such a way that they seemed ready to fall off at any moment. He favored shirts that were one size too large and gaped open when he moved, allowing me intriguing glimpses of his taut stomach and flexing pectorals. And he wore blue jeans that were full of holes in all the right places.
Farm work was hard on clothing, but I think he had something to do with putting those holes there. One rip in particular gave me an unobstructed view of his ass, and I could see that he never wore underwear. Hardest of all to take was that we shared a room. He slept naked, and there were times I thought I'd go crazy if I couldn't walk over to his bed and crawl in.
Suddenly I realized that while I was standing there fantasizing about Paul's body, he was staring at me, waiting for a response to a question.
"What was that?" I stumbled.
He grinned a gentle smile with those perfect teeth of his. Somehow I just couldn't tell if that smile was one of approval or naivete. "I said, would you like to give it a try?"
"Uh, OK." I sat down and he stood over me, his crotch only a few inches away from my face. "Give it a try." he urged.
All I had to do was lean over and my cheek would brush against his basket. I could smell his maleness and I longed to turn and gnaw at his basket, to wet those faded blue jeans with my saliva, to taste his manhood.
But I resisted somehow; I couldn't ruin my only chance for tuition money, not to mention offending my relatives. Besides, so far Paul hadn't given me the slightest indication that he'd take the bait I put out. I had to have more to go on than a friendly smile.
Turning my attention to Buttercup, I worked her teats for a while and finally managed to get a small stream of milk from her.
Sensing my difficulty, Paul nudged me. "That's good enough for today. I'll take over." He scooted onto the stool I vacated and efficiently drained Buttercup dry. I watched his hands intently, wishing those hands were milking me rather than some neurotic cow who didn't know how lucky she was, being serviced by this hunk.
Paul put the pail in the refrigerator and said, "Now I'll show you how to handle the rest of the cows."
That was a piece of cake, thanks to my uncle Bob's modern milking machines. All that I had to do was move the cow into position (which it did willingly), attach four dildo-type tubes to the teats, and turn on the machine.
For the next hour or so, I walked the rows between the cows, checking the output and making sure that nothing got sucked up into the machine, kneading their udders to check if they were empty. It was damned easy, tedious even. I had plenty of time to think. I studied the apparatus of one cow which only had three teats working , fondling the unused tube and lingering over the possibilities. After all, I thought, who hasn't dreamed of getting it on with a milking machine? My cock got hard just thinking about it. The tube was awfully small, but I wasn't too big around; by only getting it half-hard and using lots of Vaseline, I thought I could make it. I sneaked a glance at Paul, changing a cow, the hole in the rear of his jeans showing a round buttock. I had to get some kind of relief, and sharing a bed made it damned difficult. What the hell, I decided, I'd sneak down and try it tonight, when everyone was asleep. I rubbed my cock which was making a tent in my jeans, thinking it over.
I heard Paul's sharp laugh and turned to see him watching me, standing there fondling a plastic tube in one hand, rubbing my crotch with the other. "I'll bet I know what you're thinking!" he crowed. I blushed bright scarlet and he turned away, didn't say another word.
Paul and I spent the rest of the day in that barn, since 300 cows take all day to milk, and they have to be milked twice each day, most of them. By the time dinner was ready, I was half-dead on my feet. Declining my uncle's offer of a game of checkers, I dragged my weary body up to the loft I called home. It was pretty sparse--two single beds and a dresser--but it did have a great view of the farm.
Once in bed, I watched Paul's ass as he crawled into bed as always. I kept hoping I'd get a chance to check out his dick, but he moved in such a way that I never could. His ass was cute; small, tight and dimpled. Hell, it looked perfect to me, but that single look was getting tiresome. I had other plans tonight.
With him in bed, I waited a half hour, decided he was asleep, and slipped out of bed and down the ladder, wearing nothing but my blue jeans. I crept to the opposite side of the barn where the milking machines were kept. A full moon gave me enough light to see where I was going.
I greased up my cock, clamped off three tubes on the machine to let it have greater suctionn, and moved into position. But I was too hard, and the tube was too small. I decided I'd have to get it soft, and thought about other things, looking out thewindow toward the house, trying to get my boner to go limp.
Suddenly, without warning, the lights in the room came on. Omigod, I thought, Uncle Bob thought he saw a prowler. He'd grab his gun and his sons and Aunt Betsy would be with him. The entire damned family was going to see me trying to get it on with a milking machine. I couldn't bring myself to turn around, until I heard Paul's laugh.
I turned to see him standing there, giving my equipment a once-over. "Don't try it, Freddy." he said. He was wearing his ripped jeans, an unbuttoned red plaid shirt, and a tousled, impish grin. "Don't try it." he said again.
"What?...I...I was just...." I sputtered.
"I know, I know." Paul said. "You're not the first to come up with that idea." Paul was moving toward me, his eyes never leaving my dick, which was stiffening again under his gaze. "I even tried it myself once. The tubes are too damned small and a huge monster like that would never fit. How many inches you got there, Freddy?"
"Nine." I answered. They were all there, my cock rock-hard under his hot gaze. I tried to control my breathing; I was panting like a race-horse. My chest was heaving with my lust.
"Cut, too, I see." Paul came nearer. "I like them cut. Looks neater that way." His eyes locked with mine and held me prisoner. I felt his hand wrapping around my greased cock. "That machine wouldn't have worked if you could have made it fit. Just has a small suction to it. Doesn't jack you off at all." He stroked my cock, his hand slipping easily up and down. "This is what you're really wanting, isn't it?"
His eyes were on fire. I was lost in their blaze and the feel of his rough, workingman's hand on my prick. "I closed my eyes and moaned yes.
Paul stepped behind me, still pulling on my pud while his other hand reached around to my tit and began a soft, circular motion. His hips fucked at my ass while his hardness rubbed against me, begging for admission into my hungry hole. "Isn't that what you really want?" he whispered into my ear, nibbled on it for emphasis.
"Mmhmm." I groaned as I rested my head on his shoulder, so broad and firm. His tongue entered my ear and I gasped, turned my head to meet his hungry lips with my own. Slowly, we tasted each other's tongues.
"Damn, Freddy, I've been wanting to get you into my bed ever since you got here," he whispered huskily. "Are you telling me we wasted all this time?"
"Don't worry Paul." I turned in his arms to embrace him. "I'll make it all up to you tonight." I grabbed him and kissed him deeply, running my hands freely over his hard, muscled chest and back. He stiffened and I felt the tightening muscles. "What's wrong?"
"Lights on in the house." he said. "Uh, oh." I said. "What'll we do?"
"Get back upstairs, quick." Paul said, dousing the lights quickly. "I'll take care of this. You're still asleep, understand?"
"Yeah." I dashed for the ladder and up it, taking only every other rung. My heart was pounding as I listened downstairs. Voices sounded with Paul answering reassuringly, and the sound of the barn door closing on the family.
Then Paul was up the ladder into our room. "That takes care of that." he said, shucking his shirt and smiling that grin I loved so well, a white flash in the moonlight. "Now, where were we?"
I grinned and threw back the covers to reveal my nude body. "About to make up for lost time."
"Right." He unzipped his pants and his monster cock sprang out.
"How many inches have you got?" I gasped.
"Eight."
Maybe he had the length right, but that didn't do it justice. It was big--I mean really big--around. It could have made two of mine, easy. An uncut, thick cock.
"How could you manage to fit that into a milking machine?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"So I lied," he said, crawling into bed with me. "I know my limitations." he said as he made himself comfortable at my side. "A dick this big works both ways. I haven't found a man yet who could handle it right."
He turned and crawled onto me as we kissed, mashing our cocks together. He wound his tongue around mine as he humped at my groin with his steel-hard pole. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pulled him tight to me and matched his thrusts with my own.
"Oh, God, Paul, fuck me. Fuck me," I begged when I got my mouth free.
"Shit, kid, you're the one who's already lubed up." Paul straddled me. "I get to go first." And with one lithe, practiced motion, he sent my cock into his ass. His butt muscles worked slowly, and my balls landed against his ass cheeks; the smoothest insert I've ever felt. He straightened up and began rocking back and forth.
'Oh, yeah, man, ride my dick! Ride my dick!" I cried as I felt his pulsating asshole shimmy up and down my shaft, never letting go for an instant. I could tell there was no need to be gentle or carefulwith this hungry farmhand.
I reached up, grabbed a tit in each thumb-and-forefinger, and pinched hard. "Oh, yeah!" Paul groaned and snaked his hands down to pinch my tits in return. I felt my cock straining against the top of his asshole while he hunched over me.
I rolled us both over, got on top and began screwing that sweet bunghole with all my might. With his legs wrapped around my hips and his heels resting in my knee sockets, Paul used the leverage to send my cock all the way in with each of my thrusts. I grabbed his cock but he pushed my hand away. "No, kid, don't," he moaned. "I'm too close to coming as it is. And you promised I could fuck you."
I let him go and kissed him instead, my breath hissing through my nostrils as my orgasm grew within me. Desperately I gulped for air but Paul got his mouth over mine and wouldn't let go. I wrenched loose, gasped and reached orgasm with the fresh air.
"I'm coming, Paul, I'm coming, I...I...Oh, shit!" I shot a huge load into him, my whole consciousness consisting of just his writhing asshole. I smothered my cries against his shoulder and tasted the salty sweat that poured off of him and ran down onto the pillow.
As my thrusts lessened in intensity, but before they stopped entirely, Paul suddenly lurched upwards, his cream spurting out despite his attempts to hold it back. He soaked us both in ropy streamers of come. "Oh, no, no, God, no!" he moaned at his traitor dick in disappointment.
"Yeah, Paul, drench me, man, drench me in that come!" I cooed into his ear as my body sank into blissful lassitude. As I relaxed I could feel his cock pulsating against my stomach as it continued to spew the starchy semen over both of us.
We panted in each other's arms, still twitching from our orgasms, enjoying the aftershocks of our sexual earthquake.
"Damn it!" Paul grunted in disgust at last. "That load was meant for your ass."
"How long have you been holding this load?" I asked as I felt the immensity of the wetness between us.
He chuckled. "Too damned long. Not much chance to get off around here."
"I'm glasd it worked out this way." I said as I started working my way down his body. "Now I get to taste you." I licked the come off his hairy chest. One stream had made it as far as a tit, and I tracked it down, flicking my tongue over the stiff nipple, then worked on down, following the trail of come, the sweat and semen mingling in my mouth, salt upon salt. As I finally reached his cock, and gave it a good cleaning, I could feel it twitching and growing. I quickly took it into my mouth, sucked it into rock-hardness.
I lifted up, regarded the hard organ with interest. "You know, Paul," I said. "I think you're ready to go again."
He laughed. "Freddy, my boy, you're dreaming. You might be young enough to go non-stop, bu I can't. I'm at least ten years older than you."
"We'll see." I said and slurped the prong back into my mouth, enjoying the manful taste of this gargantuan organ.
I took my time, nibbling all around the shaft and giving his balls a good working-over. I took one into my mouth, rolled it around, gave it a gentle bite. Paul yelped. "Ouch! Take it easy, son!"
I gave the other ball the same treatment, but this time I nipped a little harder. Paul yelled again, and his cock twitched. As I returned to it, it was as stiff as a board.
I licked my way to the tip, administering a slow up-and-down motion designed to gently pull the foreskin over the head. When I reached the wrinkle at the top of the foreskin, I caught it between my teeth and pulled it out sharply. When I let do, it snapped back to stretch tightly across the shaft.
I sucked at the head, probing at the piss slit while trying to work up more saliva. I was going to need a lot for this flagpole.
Ready at last, I made one swift lunge onto Paul's dick and managed to get most of it into my mouth on the first try. I kept forcing, feeling the cock squeeze against my tonsils. Popping my jaws apart, I made it to the base at last.
Paul gasped in astonishment and delight. "Damn, kid, you swallowed it! Nobody's ever taken the whole motherfucker before."
I choked the dick back up and managed to say, "I'm not surprised. This is a real killer you've got here, Paul."
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Changing your mind about the fuck, kid? You wouldn't be the first."
I smiled. "I didn't say that. Hand me the Vaseline."
I wasn't sure I could take it all but I sure wanted to try. My college roommate had been pretty big, and I figured I wasn't that out of practice. I slathered Paul's dick generously with the lubricant, then worked some into my asshole, expanding the tight opening with my fingers. Cautiously, I straddled him.
"Now let me do all the work," I said. "I'm going to have to take this monster at my own speed."
"You got it, kid." Paul held very still while I slid the head of his monster cock into my asshole. I accepted it slowly, inch by inch. My asshole stretched; when I felt the head enter my inner sphincter, I ignored the pain and raised up straight, plunged down, impaled myself completely on his cock.
Paul whistled. "You made it, Freddy. You got the whole damned thing. That's another first for me." He wriggled and I quickly adjusted position. "Oh, man!" Paul moaned as he enjoyed the feel of his cock completely buried in my ass. "I think I'm falling in love."
I grinned and waited for my ass to slowly accept this intruder, letting my tissues adjust to the sensation. Slowly, I began to ride up and down, letting only a small portion of his cock out of my ass at a time. I needed to hold onto most of it, because I wasn't sure I could take it again if I let it get out.
Gradually, I increased my tempo. His cock assaulted my ass, giving me the ride of my life. When I tired, began to slow down, he rolled us over and fucked me hard and fast, kneeling between my legs and holding my entire body high by one leg in a tight grip.
"Oh, yeah, Paul, fuck my asshole. Fuck my ass!"
I got hard again and began jacking myself off, but Paul knocked my hand away. "I got plans for that dick." he warned me. "Just as soon as I finish here." He twisted me onto my back, wrapped his arms around my armpits and grabbed my shoulders, his hips driving his cock in deeper with each stroke.
The head of his cock mauled my prostate, filling me with unbelievable sensations. "Ah, ah!" I panted.
"Don't you dare come yet, Freddy!" he warned me. "Don't you dare come yet!"
But he didn't stop fucking me. My ass clutched at his cock. "I can't help it, Paul." I moaned. "That just feels so gooood!"
With that, he speeded up his rhythm as his own desire began to approach climax. The bedsprings pounded out a wild symphony as Paul ground me into the mattress.
I held back, fighting desperately to obey him, but my impending orgasm sneaked up on me, pouncing like a tiger.
"Hold back that come, Freddy!" Paul said. "Don't let go of it!"
"Too late, Paul, too late.!" I moaned as my ass gripped him tightly and I shot my load, the orgasm ripping through my entire body. That was all Paul needed and he roared, filled my intestines with a cascade of hot, juicy jizz. They say you can't feel that far inside you, but I sure sensed each creamy spurt as it hit like gangbusters.
Paul collapsed on top of me, making little gasping sounds as he fought to breathe normally, nibbling on my ear just as he had in the milking room.
I felt his warm, wonderful macho body envelope me completely, surrounding me, the smell of our lust lingering in the air. I had made it with the most beautiful man in the world, and he was mine--at least, for the summer.
When he finally managed to pull free of me--my ass not wanting to let go of him, even soft--, Paul fetched us a wet rage and washed me clean. Feeling his hand on my cock through the warm rag as he wiped off the sticky Vaseline and come, I grew hard again, and Paul regarded my erection with almost clinical interest. "Isn't there anything that can tame that wild animal, kid?"
I snickered, remembering his gentle hands on Buttercup's udder, and my envy that they weren't milking me, instead. I told him and he laughed. "So you were jealous of a cow, were you?"
"You asked what you could do that would tame this animal of mine." I reminded him. "I'd say a regular milking with those hands of yours could do the trick."
"Well." he reasoned while wrapping his hand around my cock and masturbating me gently. "I've always made a living with my hands. I guess I can use them to make you happy, too."
The rest of the night was one, long, heavenly wet-dream. I would sleep and awaken time and again with Paul's hands around my stiff cock, pounded me to orgasm. As his own, older body would recover, I would wrap my mouth around him and we would sixty-nine ourselves into insensibility. I woke with my mouth wrapped around Paul's cock like a pacifier, and I gently sucked it until it hardened, woke him up, for us to begin again. As we finished, the alarm rang: 4:00 a.m. We showered and joined the family for breakfast.
Uncle Bob was sitting at the table, a puzzled and half-angry expression on his face. "One of the machines was left on all night." he informed us. "That wastes electricity." He fixed his eyes on mine. "Freddy, did you turn on any of my milkers last night?"
I couldn't resist as I sneaked a look at Paul. "Well, Uncle Bob, I did my best."
God is a magician, Reality His trick, and it's all done with mirrors.