by Big Kahuna
The slam of a car door brought her out of her panic. It was a taxi! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? On her normal salary she could never afford to be chauffeured about, but her milk money was creating new possibilities.
She approached the cab, which had dumped its fare and was about to leave, but she made sure to bounce her bosom to get the driver’s attention. It had the desired effect. The cab driver slammed on the brakes, his eyes locked onto her rack in much the same way as Maggie the cat’s usually were.
“¿Adónde va, señorita?” He was an older man, early forties at a guess, though it was difficult to tell owing to his deeply tanned, almost nut-brown face. She doubted that he was in this country legally, but being a human cow she couldn’t throw stones.
Melissa got into the cab as quickly as her expanded bosom would allow. Her tits weren’t so big that they wouldn’t fit in the backseat with her, but she had lately noticed a propensity to knock them into things, such as that bossy little latina.
She told the driver her address, and added a single word—rapido. This, it turned out, was a mistake. The cabbie was off like a shot, darting into traffic as though la Imigra was hot on their tail. Melissa was instantly thrown from one side of the taxicab to the other as the driver dodged and swerved through traffic, hopeful of a fat tip. She started to speak, to tell him to slow down, but he took a right turn so hard that she was vaulted into the driver’s side door, forcing her arms together against her breasts so that milk actually spurted out of them. She hoped the cloth inserts in her bra would keep her from spotting. She liked this dress!
She quickly grabbed onto the shoulder belt with one hand and held onto the handle of the cooler with the other, hoping to avoid being bounced about the cab any further. Speed was important, but she was afraid that the milk in her tits would be churned into butter by the time she got home.
Melissa made it to her apartment building without too many more bumps and bruises, though her udders felt like they were on the verge of exploding. She paid the cabbie his fare and tipped him five dollars, trying to ignore the avidity with which he had stared at her milkers while she rummaged through her purse. Considering the pressure in her tits, she wondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea to drop her top and let him take his tip in the form of some liquid refreshment. A win-win for both of them.
Laden down with the milk in the cooler, as well as the milk in her jugs, Melissa entered her apartment building, never so glad to see home. The power was out.
“Oh, my God, this can’t be happening.”
“Sorry, Miss DeVries,” said the building superintendent, Bob. He was an older gentleman, kindly and soft-spoken, about the same age as her father. She had yet to have a conversation with him where his gaze rose above the level of her shoulders. He was taping an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the elevator doors when she walked up to him. “Happened about a half hour ago,” he said to her bosom. “Some kind of glitch with the grid, at least that’s what the guy at TWP said. He said it shouldn’t take more than a few hours to fix.”
A few hours? She needed to be milked now! How could she possibly milk herself without electricity? Wait, her old milking machine had a battery! She had charged it up that very first day, though she hadn’t used it since. It should still be good, at least enough to take the edge off.
Saying a quick goodbye to Bob, she made her way to the stairs. It would be a daunting climb—three flights worth of steps—but at least there would be relief at the end of it.
Easier said than done, she realized. Despite the power being out, the stairwell was lit well enough, emergency lighting complementing the natural sunlight coming through the upper floor windows. Halfway up the first flight she needed to stop and rest, her udders seeming to have doubled in weight in only those few steps. The bra was helping, but her breasts felt far heavier than normal, full to bursting, straining the shoulders straps and turning each step upward into an act of sheer will. She continued on, holding onto the stair rail, pulling herself up by it as though she were scaling Everest.
She made the second floor landing, visibly sweating, the front of her dress now stained with her milk where it had seeped through the fabric. “God…I’ll never make it,” she said, almost panting. Could she possibly continue? It hurt so much. Maybe she should stop here and milk herself by hand. At least relieve some of the pressure. There was no one in the stairwell to see her.
“N-ohhh….” she groaned aloud, thankful that there was no one else present to hear her bovine wail. She knew herself well enough to know that once she started she would not want to stop, and it was too much to hope that no one might come down the stairs to discover the human cow milking herself. She’d be on YouTube within the hour.
Gritting her teeth, Melissa continued pulling herself up the stair rail, every step a fight against the increasing pain and pressure in her tits. When she reached the third floor landing she began to become delirious. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone could come along and milk her? On her hands and knees, strong hands tugging up and down on her teats, milk spraying into a wooden bucket, a low voice crooning in her ear. That would be heaven. It was a cow’s life, and it was good.
“I’m a cow,” she mumbled, her eyes closed, almost fainting from the pain. “Cows need to be milked. Oh, won’t someone please milk me?”
She leaned against the stair wall, unaware that she had reached the fourth floor landing, trying to catch her breath, tears flowing from her eyes as fast as the milk that was seeping through her dress. This was so unfair. She shouldn’t have to feel this pain, this agony. A cow should have an owner, someone to take care of her, milk her and feed her. Why didn’t she have an owner?
She looked down to discover that her blouse was drenched with her milk. “Why’m I wearing clothes?” she mumbled. “Cows don’t need clothes.” Barely conscious of what she was doing, she let her purse and the cooler fall to the carpeted floor, reached up and ripped the blouse apart, pronounced ridges of breast flesh spilling over the bra cups. She looked curiously at the harness holding her udders in. Why would anyone put such a thing on a cow? It was obviously responsible for the pain she was feeling. She didn’t waste another thought on it, but simply reached up and undid the front catches.
“OHHH….” she moaned, the release of her udders from their confinement giving her an instant respite from the pain. It also snapped her out of her delirium. “Oh, Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?”
“Hello?” she heard a female voice call from the landing above. Melissa quickly looked up, her pain giving way to panic. Oh, God, what if it was her upstairs neighbor? She looked back down at herself, exposed udders hanging obscenely from her chest, milk leaking from them as if she were a neglected Guernsey. This was like one of those dreams where she would find herself naked in public, only she wasn’t dreaming. If whoever was up there saw her in this disheveled condition, she would become known as ‘the cow in 4D’ by morning.
Fearful of being caught, Melissa grabbed her purse and the cooler, and opened the door onto the fourth floor hallway. There was no one there. She quickly strode down the hall, silently praying that no one would choose that moment to leave their apartment and catch her with her boobs hanging out. She had just got her key in the lock when she discovered that there was no God.
“What the…?”
Billy Miller exited his apartment to be confronted by the two biggest tits he had ever seen in his life. He had been looking at his favorite site, MassiveMams.com, when the power went out. It was a favorite pastime of his, at least until his dad would get home from work.
Annoyed, he’d tried using his cell phone to surf for porn, but looking at big boobs on a small screen was more of a tease than it was worth. Being a child of technology, he had no magazines to look through, nor even any of the typical cheesecake posters on his bedroom wall to tide him over until civilization was restored. There being no other options, he figured he’d head to the mall. There was always some first rate pussy to scope out there.
“Uhhh….” was his first response upon seeing Melissa, followed by slack-jawed staring. Anyone looking at him might think that his brain had locked up from massive blood loss, but in fact the opposite was true. His teenage brain immediately kicked into overdrive. Thoughts, feelings, and situations blazing through his cerebral cortex faster than protons through the Hadron Collider.
Was this his neighbor? He’d seen her before; the fat, blonde chick whose name was Melinda, or Belinda, or something. But this couldn’t possibly be her. That chick was a fatty, but even so he had memorized those melons, jerked off imagining his dick between them and coming on her chubby face. She must have gone on some kind of diet, a diet that took all the fat from her belly and moved it up to her tits, making them even bigger! Man, if every chick went on that kind of diet the world would be a happier place. But why was her dress torn, and her bra open? Why was she standing outside his door with her tits practically in his face. And was that…milk coming out of them?
Melissa watched the boy watch her chest. Despite the pain, despite the pressure, despite even the general shittiness of her afternoon, she couldn’t help but be amazed at how a big pair of milk glands could hold a male in thrall. She’d seen him look at them before, had always been flattered that her body could hold at least that much interest for a teenage boy.
“How old are you, Billy?” she asked, surprised that she had spoken, and even more surprised by what she was thinking.
“Um…eighteen, ma’am.”
She wondered if that was true. He looked old enough, and judging by the tenting in the front of his jeans he certainly looked big enough. “And have you ever, um, milked a cow?” she said softly.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “No, ma’am.”
Melissa reached down and took his hand and placed it on her hot breast, adding a little squeeze for good measure. A jet of milk shot out, splashing his t-shirt.
“Time to learn, cowboy.” And with that, she pushed her apartment door open with her rump and dragged the young boy inside.
Chapter 8
The Cowhand
The next hour was the strangest of Melissa’s life. It was also among the most pleasant. She left Billy in the living room while she went into the kitchen and stripped to the skin, then quickly gathered the necessary and returned to him. Maggie the cat was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t surprising as she didn’t care for strangers.
Billy’s eyes bugged out when Melissa re-entered the living room, her unharnessed breasts wobbling to and fro as she walked, the fat udders already dripping milk into the two stainless steel mixing bowls she carried beneath them. Without a word she sank to her knees, placed the bowls side by side on the floor beneath her, and assumed the position appropriate to her needs.
Jesus Christ, she’s serious! he realized. She really wants me to milk her! Despite his shock, he wasted no time in shucking his clothes off and getting to the floor so that he could get his hands on her tits.
It turned out that it was not so easy as he thought it would be, the dynamics of milking a human cow being altogether different from his neighbor’s four-legged cousins. The immensity of her udders made it impossible to milk her from the side, as both of her milkers hung only a little ways above the mixing bowls, and the distance to the farther teat was hardly a comfortable reach.
But to the sufficiently motivated there are always options. Since milking from the side was out, that left the front. This put both of her udders within easy reach, though given the close quarters he couldn’t see what he was doing, which meant that he had to operate by feel alone. This was no hardship, given the size of her nipples, which he could easily grasp and tug upon, the audible splash of liquid into the mixing bowls letting him know that he was hitting the target. Milking from the front also had an added bonus, in that it put his erect and bobbing cock in close proximity to Melissa’s mouth, where it spent the whole of the next thirty minutes. It was the ultimate foreplay.
Melissa was in heaven. She had a cock in her mouth for the first time in a long time, and the hands on her teats were doing a first class job of milking her. Billy was a little hesitant at first, a little halting, but using his cock like a metronome she managed to set up a rhythm—up-down, up down. She hummed while he worked, keeping him on the edge, an added incentive to ensure that her cowhand would keep at his chore.
There really was no greater turn-on than being milked, something that never would have occurred to her but for an email she’d received, not to mention dozens of hours hooked up to machines designed to empty her of her essence. But as enjoyable as those hours had been, she was experiencing an altogether different kind of euphoria from this milking, a strange yet powerful emotion—satisfaction. It seemed to fill her up at the same rate that her milk was being drained from her. It wasn’t a sexual kind of satisfaction, though, but rather the satisfaction that comes from doing what you were meant to do, of being what you were meant to be. There was also a bond between cow and cowhand, she discovered, a symbiotic relationship that transcended human love or animal lust. She provided milk, and Billy provided the means to extract it. It was need and fulfillment at its most basic.
The time passed in a haze of sensual ecstasy, neither party aware of anything outside of their respective pleasure. When Melissa knew she was empty, she raised her swollen lips from the head of Billy’s throbbing cock, a signal for him to stop. Without a word, she gently pushed the impromptu milking bowls aside, and then turned about, facing away from him, her wide hips framing her glistening pussy, a reward for his efforts. Her cowhand didn’t need to be told what to do next.
He slipped inside her without the slightest resistance, reveling in the feeling of it, the softness of it. This was so much better than her mouth, which was vastly better than his hand, that appendage having been his sole experience with sex prior to this afternoon. Did all pussy feel this good, or had he gotten prime stuff on his first time out? He had seen shit like this on the Internet, though never this good. Melinda, or Belinda, or whatever her name was, was far superior to anything he had on his hard drive, and he had a lot. The rational though dwindling part of his mind seemed to recall someone saying that women in porn set up unreal expectations about women in real life. Billy knew better now. There was no way the Internet could ever live up to his neighbor.
For Melissa the sex was nice, but only that. Billy seemed to enjoy being inside her, and she didn’t mind it. Being fucked was nothing compared to being milked, but it was a pleasant sort of come-down, and it was the least she could do for him considering what he had done for her. Besides, it was what cows were for—milking and breeding. Why not combine the two?
He came quickly, bucking and grunting while he shot his load inside her, his hands grasping at her hips, pulling himself as deeply into her as he could. When he was spent, he bent over and rested on her back, gasping as though he had run a marathon. She said nothing, preferring to bask in the moment. Despite not having come, it was the best sex she’d ever had.
When Melissa felt that her cowhand was rested enough, she moved forward, leaving him to flop out of her. Slowly she turned about, then crawled forward until she could put her head in his lap, whereupon she took his softened prick into her mouth and sucked him back to full hardness. “There, that’s better,” she said, once her mouth was no longer full. She gave him a wink and then got to her feet.
Billy watched her as she stood up, his eyes fixed on her wobbling boobs. Was this really happening? It was like a dream, but better since he’d actually gotten to fuck something. He had to crane his neck back a bit so that he could see her face over her immense rack, not that he was terribly interested in seeing her face at the moment, but his father had always taught him to be polite.
She smiled down at him, her face framed within the ‘V’ of her boobs. “Wait there?”
He nodded, his expression slightly goofy. Yeah, like he was going to walk out on those tits. He watched as she turned and left the room, amazed at how big her
jugs were—even from the back! Maybe he should ask her to go to the spring formal with him. He’d be the talk of the school after that, and that was a motherfucking fact!
Melissa returned a minute later, fresh and clean after a quick trip to the bathroom. She picked up one of the milking bowls and brought it into the kitchen. Billy took the hint and followed with the other one. She fought to keep from giggling as they set the bowls on the counter. Maybe she should ask him to be her personal cowhand, perhaps milk her every day after work. A young boy needed regular chores. She very carefully poured her freshly harvested milk into the extra large plastic measuring cup that Rance had sent her—forty-eight ounces. A new personal best.
Billy sat on the barstool and watched while she did this, keeping quiet. Fewer than a dozen words had passed between them since he’d entered her apartment, most of them his. He seemed to understand that his neighbor preferred to remain silent. Whatever freaky role-playing thing she was into, he wasn’t going to mess with her. Cows didn’t talk, so why should she? He wished more girls thought that way.
So it came as a surprise to him when she spoke. “Billy, I’d like to keep what’s happened between us a secret.”
It wasn’t a question, or even a request, but a simple statement. Not tell his friends? Fuck that, he was going to shout it from the rooftops! He had just milked his neighbor like a cow and then fucked her like one, too. Hell, he wished he was Catholic so he could confess it to a priest!
Melissa seemed to instinctively know this, however. Without saying another word she sank to her knees and took Billy’s already erect cock in her mouth. Surprised, the young stud sat there, his eyes open wide, taking in the visual of his stiff prick being repeatedly engulfed by his neighbor’s hot mouth.