B00C1JURMO EBOK

Beth Becomes A Milk Cow

An Erotic Western Milking Story

Juliette Kilda

Published globally by Golden Swan Book Club.

Copyright © Juliette Kilda 2015

All rights reserved

All events and characters are fictional

Beth woke early and lay alone in bed for quite some time, fingering her pussy for pleasure. Then she washed her firm young body in the farmhouse yard, using a pitcher of water, yawning sleepily. She dried herself with a rough towel, enjoying its texture on her creamy skin. She stood in the sunlight for a while, caressing her heavy, pointed breasts, wishing she had a lover to take charge of them.

Oh, a lover to suck on them! To handle them!

All alone in the farmhouse kitchen, she put on a plain cotton dress. It was tight across her rump, and did little to conceal the swell of her tits or the firm studs of her nipples.

She took the milking pail, and walked out across the pasture to find the cow in the barn. She straddled the three-leg stool and milked the cow, enjoying the squirt of the milk into the pail and the feel of the udder in her fingers. She imagined milking her own breasts like this, squeezing her superb nipples and letting the white stuff flow out.

One day! Maybe in the future. For now, I haven’t even got a man. I never even had a man inside me yet. I want one though. I need something thick and strong between these legs of mine. If I don’t get it soon, I’m going to explode.

‘Good milking there, girl.’

She jumped like hell. In the barn door, a man was leaning watching her at work. She blinked, trying to get a look at him. He was a stranger, like many who passed by the farm, and he looked big and strong. Dark suit, white shirt – and old-time snakeskin boots. She stood up to get a better view.

Damn, he was good-looking. She looked into his blue eyes, aware that the only thing between his gaze and her voluptuous body was the thin cotton of her dress. The man touched his hat brim and smiled.

‘Didn’t intend to startle you, girl. But I’m a milking man myself, and I admire a good hand action.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Beth wiped her hands on her dress. The action simply forced the fabric even tighter across her tits, and she knew that he could see their curve. She knew too that her nipples were stirring into wakefulness, and they would be brazenly visible. Sure enough, the man glanced at them carelessly, then looked back into her eyes.

‘Yes, a fine hand action,’ he said. ‘Now, would you care to see how I do it?’

‘Well, ok. The cow has more milk to give.’

‘Does she, now?’ His eyes moved over her body, and Beth could feel her nipples straining at the front of her dress. She blushed, but she was excited by being alone with this big, handsome man. ‘If a cow has milk to give, I’m the man to milk her.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ Beth said, putting her head on one side. Being alone on the farm, she had rare opportunities to flirt with men, and she wanted to make the most of this. ‘Go right ahead, stranger.’

The man advanced towards her, and she handed him the stool. She stood watching him as he milked the cow, his big, powerful hands releasing the liquid expertly. He was damn good, she had to admit. She thought momentarily of those hands on her body, handling her needy flesh, and her heart thumped in her chest. Just then, he stood and faced her.

‘Cow’s all done,’ he said. ‘What did you think?’

‘You were ok.’

‘Just ok?’

‘Well, you were pretty good. I like the way you milk. It’s good and firm.’

He smiled and looked at his hands. ‘I like to be good and firm with the udders. They respond to it.’

‘I’m sure they do, stranger.’ Beth was conscious of her own tits, heavy and excited under her dress. The man looked at them again, quite openly.

‘Cows aren’t the only thing I know how to milk,’ he said.

‘Yeah? What else?’

‘I can milk women.’

She slapped his face, but he just smiled, and spoke calmly, looking down at her tits.

‘I could milk those beauties for you, girl.’

She laughed.

‘I’m just nineteen years old and never even been pregnant. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have a man. No way could you ever get any milk from me.’

But the thought of those strong, expert hands on her swelling titties was absolutely fascinating for her. He couldn’t possibly know how to milk a girl. Could he?

‘I tell you, I could milk you just the way I milked this cow of yours. It’s something I learned from an old medicine man in the hills. Bring a new pail and I’ll milk you into it.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘No, I’m not crazy.’ He adjusted his hat, smiling. ‘Look now, I’ll make you a wager, girl. Let me try to milk you with these hands of mine. If I don’t get any milk from you, I’ll work on this farm for free, and do any work that needs doing. How about that?’

She looked at his big shoulders.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I do have a lot of work that needs doing around the place. Someone has to fix the roof and the fences. But you’re crazy, working for no money.’

‘But I’ll win the wager. I’ll get plenty of milk from you, girl. And that’s the other side of the bargain. If I do get milk from those sweet tits you have there, I’ll still work free. I’ll still fix the place up for you. But you’ll become my own, private milk woman. I’ll get to milk you every day and use you as I wish, all the time that I’m here. How about that?’

‘You are insane.’

‘Why don’t we try it and see? Because you’re right, those fences do need fixing up. And the condition of that roof! Come the fall, you’ll have rain pouring in. What have you got to lose?’

She hesitated. It was absolutely crazy, she knew. But more than just the work she needed done, she couldn’t stop thinking about those hands of his going to work on her breasts. What the hell would it feel like? She swallowed silently, aware of a tingle between her legs. The kind of tingle she got when she as lying in bed, alone, imagining having a man with her. Imagining his cock pounding inside her, as she caressed her sad, lonesome pussy.

‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s absurd, but yes, I’ll take your wager.’ She waggled her finger at him. ‘But you do all the labouring I need, you hear? For free.’

‘That’s the deal,’ he agreed. ‘All the labour you require, or the labour plus me milking you. That’s settled then.’         

‘Ok.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘How do we do this?’

He laughed.

‘For a start, I can’t do anything through that dress. Take it off.’

She gulped. She realised she was doing something weird – but sometimes, you kind of need to. She unbuttoned her dress and pulled it up, over her head, and threw it to one side. She stood with hands on hips, letting him see her whole body.

He whistled in appreciation, looking her up and down. He spent a long time studying her heavy, jug-shaped tits with their firm, cylindrical nipples of dark flesh, set in delicately bumpy areola discs. She watched him nodding slowly as he took in her flat, hard stomach and the clump of red-blonde pubic hair, knowing that below that he would see the plump lips of her cunt and the demure, virgin groove that ran between them. His eyes returned to her boobs.

‘Well, girl, if I can’t get some milk out of that superb pair that nature gave you, I’m not the man I think I am. Let’s begin. Bring a new pail or something for me.’

She went to the corner and picked out a shiny tin bowl, knowing he would be watching her apple-shaped ass as she bent down. He might even see a glimpse of her pussy from the rear, with those two broad lips on show. The thought of that thrilled her. She brought the pail to him, and he took her by the hand and led her outside to an area of soft grass.

‘What if someone sees?’ she asked.

‘Then they’ll see me milking a fine, healthy woman.’

He placed the bowl on the grass.

‘So what now?’ she said.

‘Get down like a cow, girl.’

‘Huh?’

‘Get down on your hands and knees, over the bowl. That’s the position you need to take.’

‘It’s humiliating, dammit.’

In fact, though, it was exciting for her.

‘Get down like a cow. Or the wager’s off here and now.’

She sighed, and submitted. She got down on her hands and knees, like an animal, with her breasts swaying beneath her over the bowl. She knew from looking in the bedroom mirror, that they formed perfect cone shapes in this position, jutting forwards a little, and tipped by her thick nipples. She got herself comfortable, with her ass up in the warm sunlight, and waited, with the grass pleasantly cool on her skin.

She looked round. He was straddling her from the rear, and she felt his abdomen press against her rump, with a definite hardness to him. Suddenly, she felt a slap across her ass.

‘Ow! What’s that for, stranger?’

‘That’s how I keep my woman in position.’ He slapped her other buttock, hard, and she yelped. She knew that she should really get up and run away, or send for the cops, but she was more inclined to let this man go to work on her. She was nineteen years of age, dammit. She needed a man badly. All those nights alone in the farmhouse had left her with such an appetite for being handled.

Two more slaps echoed out across the pasture, and Beth couldn’t suppress a smile of pleasure at the sensation. She arched her back and let her head drop forward, spilling her hair around her face. She felt him gather her hair in his hands, and tug at it.

‘Ready, girl?’

She nodded. She felt him do something with her hair, and realised he was tying it up on the back of her neck. It felt strange to have this stern stranger performing such a caring act for her while she was naked. Her nipples leapt and buzzed at the situation – her position, the spanking and his thought for her hair.

Suddenly he gripped her neck and caressed it, and put his other hand on her ass, stroking it.

‘Are we ready, my pretty milk cow?’

‘I’m not your milk cow,’ she protested – but her dangling breasts and perky nipples told a different story. They were ready for his fingers – no, they were
yearning
for his fingers. As if he knew that, the stranger cupped his hands under her tits.

She gasped. His hands were cool and firm, and she shivered with enjoyment at his touch. For so long, she had wanted a man to take control of her breasts, to be firm with them, to use them as they should be used.

‘Oh! Stranger, oh!’

‘Keep still, milk cow. I’m just starting work.’

‘Yes, stranger. Oooh!’

And Beth forced herself not to shudder or writhe with delight as the man began to caress her tits. Oh, he was magnificent! His firm, strong fingers passed up and down the hanging weight of her breasts, massaging them gently. She whimpered at the sensation – having spent so long imagining a man’s hands on her, and now realising that it was even better than she had fantasised. He proceeded to work on her nipples, which were wickedly erect and buzzing for attention.

First, he let the fleshy areolas slide between his fingers, tugging the nipples gently, each movement provoking a whimper from Beth’s open mouth. Then he took charge of the erect studs, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger, making Beth arch her back again and quiver involuntarily. He stilled her with a smack to her ass, and she went limp for him.

From then on, she was at his command. His strong hands squeezed, caressed and tugged at her virgin nipples, bringing them to a hardness she had never known. He kneaded her breasts as if they were handfuls of dough, raising them, dropping them, and forming them into shapes she never knew were possible.

She felt tears of delight roll down her cheeks, and she wiggled her butt back against his hard man’s crotch.

‘That’s right, girl,’ he murmured. ‘It’s coming, isn’t it?’

‘No, no,’ she panted, baring her teeth. ‘No, it’s not possible!’

‘The milk’s coming,’ he said in a deep voice. ‘I can feel it.’

‘No, no! It’s a trick. I can’t make milk. I can’t!’

But again her breasts betrayed her. Each swollen, flushed tit was eager for his milking hand, quivering for more attention. A dreadful heat spread through them, heavy with a promise of delivery. She heard him laugh softly, and she suddenly knew why.

She heard it before she felt it. There was a long, metallic echo as liquid spurted against the tin dish underneath her. It was the wildest, most natural sound she ever heard, and it made her laugh with release. It was followed by another tinny noise as another spurt hit the bowl. She forced herself to look down.

‘Oh, no! It can’t be.’

‘It is, my pretty cow. It’s milk. Your sweet milk.’

‘But it can’t be. I have no milk!’

‘Oh yes you do, my milk cow. See!’

And he adjusted his position, cupped her tits forcefully, and simply milked her like  a cow.

Beth wept with pleasure. She could hear the spurt from each nipple, one after the other, hitting the tin bowl. She could feel the milk flowing forcefully from her engorged studs, guided expertly by the stranger’s hands, each stroke providing an exquisite spasm in the breast. Beth wailed and blubbered as she was milked, unable to understand what was happening to her.

‘How are you doing this?’ she pleaded. ‘How?’

‘The medicine man taught me how to milk any woman. It’s all in the finger movement.’

He slapped her ass and raised himself up into a controlling position, his torso flat against Beth’s captive spine, and his hands eagerly at work underneath her, milking her tits so very masterfully. Those big, strong fingers worked at her cones, squeezing and tugging her nipples, each movement producing a long spurt of milk that went splashing and splattering down into the tin bowl. She purred and moaned with enjoyment, loving the milking itself and also the dominant position he was taking on top of her – and, more than that, the hard pressure of his erection pressing against her raised, bare rump. Her pussy was waking rapidly, a moist warmth spreading through her maiden cunt lips, making her smile as she was milked over and over again.