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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Peter File.09 - Molly Does the Milking
Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 01:10:07 -0400
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PeterFile#09: MOLLY DOES THE MILKING
In which Peter gives a generously-bosomed friend a hand
with the milking, and the favor is returned.
Editor's Note: Partialism, the fixation of sexual
attraction on secondary sexual characteristics, is
commonly associated with masturbatory addiction.
The habitual masturbator, accustomed by long practice
to manual gratification, loses his capacity to
perform normal coitus and may find the primary female
genitalia intimidating (see Peter File #05). He transfers his
sexual attention to other parts of the female body, most often
the bosoms, usually responding strongly to women with generous
endowments. The logic of this choice is clear: After her vulva,
the breasts are the most feminine part of a woman, and the
traditional association of the breast with nurturing and
sympathy provides an important reassurance to the sexually
insecure masturbator.
Peter's breast partialism is apparent in many of the Peter
Files.
-- Dr. Margaret Wilson, Registered Genital Therapist.
--------
The summer after graduating from college, I spent
traveling around the country, and I stopped for a week to visit
one of my friends who was then living on a farm in northern
California. The farm was run as a commune by several young,
hippie-type men and women who had moved there to escape modern
city life. They were all very friendly, and I liked them right
away, but one in particular caught my attention, a girl named
Molly. She was a redhead with a farm-girl plumpness, and a
large, heavy bosom which gave her an earth-mother quality. At
first sight I was seized with a desire to suckle at those huge,
nourishing breasts, but I was far too shy to make any approach.
Finally I did manage to talk to her, and her easy, free-spirited
manner made me feel so comfortable, that I arranged to help her
with her chores the next day.
I didn't know just how free-spirited she was until the
next day when I went to the barn to meet her. I heard some
footsteps, and out of the door came Molly, carrying a full
bucket of milk in each hand and-- incredibly-- nude from the
waist up! I stared open mouthed at her two massive breasts
hanging bare before me, and she was the first to speak.
"Oh, hi! I already started with the milking." I was
still staring dumbly at her bosom, unable to pull my eyes away.
"I guess you're surprised to see me like this. I usually don't
wear much when I'm doing the milking, it gets pretty warm in the
barn. You don't mind if I keep my top off, do you?"
I managed to stammer, "N...No, not at all..."
"Good. The guys here on the farm are used to it, we all
go around half naked, but it does bother some guys. I don't want
you to think I'm making a comeon or anything. It's just a lot
more comfortable without my top. Sure you don't mind? I know how
some guys are about seeing a girl's tits."
I assured her I had no objections, trying to sound
perfectly casual. I could feel my member starting to throb
painfully inside my pants, but this was a small price to pay for
such a vision.
We got down to work, spending much of the afternoon
milking the cows and performing other routine chores in the
barn. I must have seemed pretty dumb to her, because I could
hardly work or converse with my attention so attracted by the
magnets of her breasts. Whenever she walked, the heavy pendants
swayed hypnotically. Each time she leaned forward to milk a
cow's udder, her own teats swung down beneath her, and I longed
to seize them and mimic her rhythmic squeezing with my own
hands. I tried not to be obvious in my voyeurism, but often she
caught my eyes riveted on her endowments and seemed to smile
slightly.
Although I wanted to prolong the heavenly feast for my
eyes, the chores and milking were done at last. I expected Molly
to replace her top and head for the house. Instead, she stood in
front of me, her hands squarely on her hips, her breasts proudly
bare. She looked down at my crotch and at the stiff erection
plainly visible through my jeans and frowned,
"Now what's that all about?"
I stammered, "I... I'm sorry Molly... I can't help
getting like this... when I look at you..."
She laughed. "No, I guess not. You're not used to the
way us country girls dress, are you? Actually, I thought you
might give me some hassle, but you've been a real good boy all
afternoon, and I think that deserves a reward. How'd you like to
try your hand at milking?"
She placed her palms beneath her heavy breasts and
hefted them slightly toward me. I fell to my knees at her feet,
and grasped her treasures. She gently pressed my head to her
bosom and let me suckle to my hearts delight on each rosy nipple.
I could have continued forever, content to do no more
than suckle and knead her bounty, but she said, "Now I think
there's just one more little cow that needs milking," and
reached down and unsnapped the front of my jeans. She pushed me
down on my hands and knees and, reaching underneath, extracted
my very erect penis from my britches. She grasped it in her
hands and began squeezing it with practiced movements, milking
me exactly as she had the cows. She leaned forward, and I could
feel her heavy breasts resting on my back. I was in heaven, and
smiled up at her gratefully.
She winked, and said "wait, I'm forgetting something."
She reach around and grabbed an empty milk pail, just the same
as she used on the other real cows. She slid it underneath me,
and the resumed her milking, holding my throbbing teat over the
waiting pail.
She pulled slowly at my penile teat, joking as she
milked, about how much cows seem to like to be milked, about how
much each one can be expected to yield, about what makes a
"contented cow" yield more milk, etc. She seemed to be enjoying
the humor of comparing the panting young man straining in her
hands to a cud-chewing Holstein. She hefted my scrotal sacks in
her hand and commented approvingly on the fullness of my
"udder", and ran her fingers along my penis with complements to
the length and diameter of my "teat".
I was getting more and more aroused, now issuing soft
moaning sounds as Molly stoked my penis in a gentle rhythm. She
teased me about the sounds I was making, "That's a good little
cow, mooing when it gets a milking. Does it like to be milked?
Let Molly hear it, then. Moo for Molly, moo like a little cow."
I could not help yielding to the embarrassing but oh so
exciting teasing, with "M.. Moo.. oh, Molly, milk me .. Mooo ..
Mooo .."
We continued like that for a delicious eternity, as she
was in no hurry to make me "let my milk down." But at last the
inevitable happened. I tensed, my "mooing" became more
insistent, and Molly's strokes became firmer and faster urging
me towards release, until I let down my milk in gushing spurts
between her fingers. She aimed my spasming teat at the bucket
and I squirted thick, white streams that spattered the bottom of
the bucket in audible spurts.
I helped Molly every day that remained in my visit, and
she repeated her service each time. She never showed interest in
anything further sexually, and I don't think she really
considered what she was doing for me to be a sexual act. To her
it was just a friendly favor to relieve the tension that I built
up while helping her. And being then (and still!) a compulsive
masturbator, I wasn't wanting for anything more.
- end
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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