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.