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The Hucows of Delta Mu
🕑 Added 2017-05-06 18:49:22 +0000 UTC PrologueThe Wino, the Witch, and the Werecow
The young man shambled across the expanse of lawn, a ring of trees screening him from view. He was glad to have that much cover, the moon being so bright that it was practically day. Normally, he wouldn’t give a shit, but drunk as he was, the last thing he wanted was to run into campus security. Saint Walstan’s might be a liberal arts college, though they probably weren’t so liberal that they looked favorably upon undergrads who puked on their security guards.
Damn, why had he drunk so much? A stupid question, of course—what else were you going to do when someone insulted your favorite comic book superheroine? He had not let the insult go unchallenged, however, but rather had schooled his fellow pub-goer, arguing on Alley Kat’s behalf while consuming glass after glass of The Drunken Lamb’s house red.
He had covered her complete back story: her rise from stripper to street fighter, of how she dismantled the Bowery Boyz gang from the inside, and how she became a founding member of the Truth Society. He finished his discourse by showing mathematical proof that Alley Kat’s massive breasts were not merely exploitative, as so many claimed, but were actually a factor in her fighting style, helping her to maintain her balance when doing her signature flying double roundhouse kick, the ultimate Tit Fu attack.
He regretted it now as he weaved his way across the moonlit campus, the dorms never seeming so far away. It was the last glass that had done it, that had magically transported him from blotto to shitfaced. A wave of dizziness washed over him, stopping him mid-shamble. He paused there, bent over, his hands on his knees while he rode it out. Was he going to puke? He hoped not; the Nine Witches wouldn’t like it.
That was the name given to the ring of trees surrounding him, nine wych elms spaced equidistantly around a grass circle. It lay in the exact center of the campus, and was used for small outdoor parties and gatherings, even weddings. At least that was the official story. Rumor had it that the Nine Witches had played host to many a romantic tryst.
“Now wouldn’t that be loverly?” the young man mumbled to himself. He had never done it with a girl outdoors. Then again, he had rarely done it with a girl indoors. Okay, once. One time, and that had been a less than stellar experience.
It had been at the beginning of his sophomore year, a bit of Friday night partying at the pub he’d just left. The girl—he couldn’t even remember her name—had been slightly drunk, and had probably accepted his advances because he’d been the only one who’d made any. She was kind of chunky, though lacking the boobage that one would expect to go along with that. He hadn’t minded. He was determined to lose his cherry that night, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The disappointed look on her face upon seeing his erect prick had definitely put a damper on the evening. He knew he wasn’t exactly big down there (in an Internet world, how could you not?), but size wasn’t supposed to matter, was it?
The girl lay there while he did his business, hardly the enthusiastic participant he had hoped for. The pussy had felt nice, though, a sensation he probably wouldn’t have felt had the condom she’d provided not slipped off his prick during the festivities.
The chick was livid upon discovering that he’d come inside her, then positively outraged at the realization that the condom was still jammed up inside her snatch. She had stomped out of his dorm room, albeit carefully due to the latex and jizz squishing about inside her somewhat capacious vag, screaming that she’d snap his pencil dick in two if she came up pregnant. Evidently she hadn’t, since his underwhelming prick was still intact, which was fortunate considering the only sex he had these days was jacking off to images of comic book sluts. It was preferable.
A wave of dizziness washed over him, causing his knees to buckle. He didn’t fight it, but rather let gravity guide him downward so that he lay on his back, his head cushioned upon the soft grass.
I’m going to pass out here, he dimly realized. Would campus security find him? Perhaps, perhaps not. Would he get expelled? Well, what the fuck, if people could fuck against trees and get away with it, then he should be able to fall asleep beneath them. Fair was fair, right?
He opened his eyes to see the silvery moon high above him, gaudy and fat. His vision doubled slightly, the twin orbs reminding him of Alley Kat’s enormous boobs. He imagined those volleyball-sized jugs wobbling side to side as she performed a kata for his enjoyment, jiggling as she did a series of palm strikes, then almost falling out of her costume as she executed a perfect spinning hook kick.
He sighed tiredly. Yeah, it was juvenile, sure. Tits like hers didn’t exist in nature, and even if they did, it wasn’t as if he was ever going to suck on a pair of them.
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Large brown eyes watched as the still form of the Man lay in the center of the circle of trees. Should she approach him? There was no one else about, and she had needs. It would have to be him.
She took a step forward, entering the circle, one hoof on the grass, as instinctively wary as any animal that knows it is far from home. It did not occur to her to wonder why she was far from home, why she was not with others of her kind, or even where home was. Hers was a simple mind, her few thoughts concerned with the most rudimentary motivations: fucking, eating, being milked.
Just then, two figures came into view, walking along a path on the other side of the trees. She froze in place, impossibly large udders swaying back and forth beneath her as she stood there on all fours. She hoped that her natural coloration would render her invisible, black mottling covering almost half of her body, the other half almost as pale as the moon above. For almost half a minute she paused, watching the couple, unmoving save for her tail, which flicked slowly side to side. The couple continued onward without sparing a glance her way, hands on each others’ rumps. She wondered why they did that.
All was silent again, no predators anywhere that she could see. It was time. She put her other fore hoof ahead of the first one, a weighty udder swaying beneath her as she did so. Another step, the other udder counterpointing the first one. They were so heavy, so full, the soft skin expanding as her body continued making milk, expecting release yet finding none.
But that was just one form of pressure, the other she felt lower down, a dull ache in her belly, a tingling between her hind legs. She needed that pressure relieved every bit as much as she needed to be relieved of the contents of her overburdened tits. Perhaps more.
The sleeping Man ahead snuffled, his head lolling side to side. She continued forward, her cloven hooves lightly indenting the soft grass, the blades often tickling her distended teats, causing them to leak a bit.
But not enough to relieve the pressure. The small amount that trickled out was nothing compared to the flood that strong hands could release. She needed hands on her teats—hands to milk her, to empty her. But at the same time she needed to be filled, needed a Man to shove his fat cock into her and make her feel good in the only way that mattered.
The Man snuffled again—was he about to wake? She quickened her pace, a seeming impossibility considering the twin burdens slung beneath her. She was only a few lengths away from him now, the pressure within her growing as she closed the distance between them.
When she reached her goal she stopped and waited. The Man would wake up now. He would milk her and fuck her. That was the cycle of life. She provided the udders and the pussy, he would provide the hands and the cock. It was the perfect arrangement.
She sat back on her haunches and waited, overfull udders leaking onto the grass in front of her. A minute passed, and still the Man had not awakened. She furrowed her brow, a most un-bovine expression clouding her black and white face. Why was the Man not waking up? Why was he sleeping when he should be tending to her? Didn’t he know his purpose?
A subtle throb pulsed within her udders, discomfort spreading from her chest into her gut. She did not like the feeling, but what could she do? She could not milk herself, and other than this Man there was no one else around.
Another throb, this one worse than the previous one, emanated from her udders again. It spread further throughout her body this time, the pain causing her to groan, a low moan reminiscent of fields and pastures. But along with the pain came a feeling of desperation. The pain would surely get worse if she were not milked soon, but the Man showed no sign of waking.
The desperation seemed to awaken something within her, something she hadn’t known existed. It was a voice speaking to her, a calming voice. She listened to the voice, what should have been insensible noises actually making sense to her simple mind. The voice told her what to do, and then showed a picture of it in her mind. It was really very simple. She decided to do it.
As quiet as a whisper, she moved forward, positioning herself over the Man, her body all but shielding him from the pale moonlight. She stood there for several moments, but despite the warmth and closeness of another body, the Man still did not awaken.
The feeling of desperation returned, but so did the voice. She followed its instructions, swaying her shoulders a bit, causing a leaking teat to drag lightly across the Man’s cheekbone, warm milk dribbling into his hair.
Her udders felt so heavy, the skin tight and hot. Another throb of pain caused her to groan even louder than before. The Man would surely awaken now.
But he did not. The voice spoke to her again, showing her another picture in her mind, an action even simpler than the last one. Even a calf could do it.
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He was having the strangest dream. He was standing in a field, surrounded by cows, an entire herd of them. They were milling about, lowing softly, their warm bodies pressing gently against him.
It felt so right, except that it was nighttime. Didn’t cows sleep at night? True, he didn’t know a damn thing about them, except for what he’d seen on TV. A friend once told him that he’d known someone who used to go out cow tipping at night, back home in Bumfuck, Indiana or some other rural backwater. He’d always presumed it was an urban myth, but perhaps there might be some truth to it.
The cow nearest him brushed against him, her warm hide pressing into his erection. He pressed back, enjoying the feeling. He briefly wondered if he wasn’t some kind of pervert for doing this. It was a cow, after all. But he didn’t feel like a pervert. If anything, he’d never felt better in his life.
He looked up to see the moon above him, fat and gaudy. It looked larger than normal, practically blotting out the night sky. But that was the way dreams were. Things were always just a bit out of kilter, usually having some sort of bizarre symbolism. This moon, for instance, was nothing like the real moon. The real moon was varying shades of gray and white, impact craters showing the damage from billions of years of celestial nine-ball. This moon, however, was a uniform pale white, its surface unmarred save for the large pink nipple in the center of it.
Nipple...? he wondered, puzzled by the strange erection on the lunar landscape. He opened his mouth in wonder, the beauty of the heavenly body above him captivating him as Alley Kat’s never had. He gaped in reverence at the giant tit in the sky…and then the sky fell.
“Urggh—” he screamed, his cry stifled as an immense white sphere settled on his face, threatening to suffocate him. Fear overtook him, adrenaline flooding through his system instantly negating the effects of the alcohol in his bloodstream.
…ohfuckohfuckohfuck…
He tried again to yell out, but a soft fleshy something was wedged in his mouth, effectively silencing him. He thrashed sideways, hoping to get away, but whatever was on top of him—some kind of animal!—was practically straddling him, making escape to the left or right impossible…and were those fucking hooves?
Panic rising further, he raised his arms in an attempt to push the creature off of him, but his forearms only succeeded in compressing the beast’s flesh—white flesh!—causing the massive orb above him to spray some kind of goo into his mouth.
“Gluk…!” he gurgled, unable to keep from swallowing the beast’s emission, warm liquid coursing down his throat. He coughed weakly, barely able to breathe for the soft flesh pressing against his nose. Unable to move sideways or upwards, he tried shimmying his body forward, but the beast’s hooves were planted just above his shoulders, blocking his escape.
He tried pushing upward again, only to have more of the beast’s goo spray into his mouth. Fatigue began washing over him in waves, sapping his ability to fight back. His panic ebbing, he laid his head back on the grass, waiting for whatever violence the beast was going to inflict on him.
More goo trickled into his mouth. He swallowed it, no longer having any desire to expel it. In fact, now that he was no longer fighting for his life, he noticed that it tasted pretty good. No, not pretty good—very good. It was sweet but not cloying, and had a silky texture that flowed magically over his tongue. Instinctively, he sucked on the soft knob of flesh in his mouth, and was rewarded with another spurt of the sweet-tasting liquid, followed by another, and another after that.
Pleasant feeling washed over him, causing him to moan into the firm flesh pinning him to the ground. Was he going to die now? Were the milky secretions he was eagerly swallowing some kind of narcotic the creature used to stupefy its victims, so that it might drag them someplace more private to finish them off at its leisure? If so, it was working. The fear was receding, acceptance taking its place.
He moaned again as another wave of pleasure rolled over him. Half-inebriated—no longer by alcohol but by a substance that was every bit as intoxicating, though without the debilitating effects—he brought his hands up, not to push the beast away, but to caress her flesh.
The skin beneath his fingers felt warm to the touch, almost hot, heavy and firm. He pressed his palms into it and more warm liquid filled his mouth. He allowed his hands to roam over the pale flesh, amazed at how good it felt, how good he felt. He continued exploring with his fingers, finding another pendulous mass of flesh next to the one he was sucking on. It was just as weighty as the one above his head, and also had a distended knob of flesh on the rounded bottom end of it.
His fingers wrapped themselves around the dangling teat as if by instinct. It was by far the largest and longest one he’d ever felt, not that there had been all that many. Even so, he knew what to do. He tugged downward on the giant nipple; warm milk sprayed the ground next to his head, spattering his neck and the side of his face. He pulled down on it again, and again the teat sprayed the ground, but this time it was accompanied my a long, low groan of animal satisfaction.
It’s enjoying this! he realized. He continued tugging up and down on the beast’s teat while suckling at the one in his mouth, his face becoming sticky with her sweet cream. Whatever fear he had felt earlier was gone. The creature wasn’t going to hurt him. It just wanted to be milked.
But a sensation of pressure on his groin signaled that milking wasn’t the only thing the beast wanted. It happened again, the animal rubbing itself against his hard prick through his jeans. Hard? His cock felt like it could punch a hole through a brick wall!
What the fuck? he thought, his attention shifting from the swelling in his mouth to the swelling in his pants. His prick had never felt so hard in his whole life, not even during that long weekend he’d spent jerking off to his Alley Kat vs. Scarlet Amazon graphic novel, his porn star staying power made possible by some Viagra he’d scored off a senior.
But his cock wasn’t just hard, it felt hot, the skin almost unbearably taut. Jesus fuck, his dick felt huge! He didn’t waste another thought on it. If this strange animal wanted to fuck, then he was going to give her the high hard one. At least he hoped it was a she. The idea of sticking his prick into a male of the species seemed somehow unnatural.
Letting go of the teat, he reached down with both hands and tugged his pants and his underwear down, his enraged cock actually thudding back against his belly. Holy fuck, he thought, the strange sensation of his dick lying hot on his abdomen confirming his earlier suspicion, that his cock had somehow grown. He reached down, needing to know, his hand closing about the turgid man-meat lying on his stomach, or rather failing to, because his thumb and fingers couldn’t quite meet.
Thank you, God! he said inside his head, tears of joy mixing with the milk drying on his cheeks. He ran his fingers along the unfamiliar landscape of his enlarged dick. Damn, it was big! He could feel veins standing out from the smooth skin, could feel the blood pumping through them. He continued further, overjoyed that the word further could ever apply to his dick. Its weight and heft were unbelievable, but more amazing was its girth. You could stretch a chick to the fullest with a dick like this, though she would never complain. You would fucking own her.
When his hand reached the fat crown of a cock head that now belonged to him he nearly fainted. God, the thing felt huge! He ran his fingers lovingly over the softball-sized knob, unfamiliar sensations flooding his already endorphin-addled brain. He lowered his hand back down along its length, raising it skyward as he went, trying to get a feel for its size. Could a girl even take a cock this big inside her without it ripping her apart? Perhaps not, but that question was at least half-answered a moment later, as the she-beast above him took that opportunity to lower herself onto his throbbing member.
“Ommm,” he moaned around the teat in his mouth as the hottest, wettest cunt in creation began sliding down his now considerable length. Jesus God, was this what fucking was supposed to feel like? He had no idea how long his dick was now, but he could feel every millimeter of it being slowly engulfed by the creature’s pulsating pussy as she took him inside her. Nothing in his life had ever felt so good; not jerking off, not even the miserable slag who’d allowed him access to her sloppy hole.
The creature continued lowering herself, inch by glorious inch until she bottomed out against his pelvis, then began pulsing her muscular snatch around his spasming cock, milking him as he had earlier milked her. There were no words to describe the sensations. This was beyond any pleasure he had ever experienced or even imagined. If what he’d had before was pussy, then this was pussy to the hundredth power. But it was more than just the pussy that set this experience off. It was her warmth, the comforting weight of her giant tits, and the rich sweetness of her milk, not to mention that she was doing all the work, her snapping cunt pulling up on his enlarged prick with such force that he felt his buttocks being lifted off the ground.
Was the she-beast going to fuck him to death? He no longer cared, his mind having moved beyond such trivialities as life and death. All that existed now was pleasure, ecstasy beyond imagining. And not just his pleasure. A lowing sound reached his ears, an inhuman expression of animal lust that made his already hard prick swell up even more.
Moans and grunts filled the air, bestial noises that were alternately human and animal. No passersby heard them, no one saw them, even though several people walked along the cobblestone footpath just outside the ring of trees, more than a few of them remarking that there seemed to be a strong scent of lavender in the air.
One person saw them, however. She was leaning against the northernmost tree approximately forty feet behind them, violet eyes flashing as she watched the mismatched pair consummate a rite older than the Pyramids. She was entirely unaffected by the scent of lavender, being immune to it, as well as having been the cause.
She was young, her high cheekbones and smooth complexion making it possible for her to pass as a student. That was an illusion. In spite her youthful appearance, she was older than most of the student body, the teaching staff, as well as a good many of the buildings on campus, her oddly colored eyes having beheld wonders that would shock the most jaded of anffyddwyr.
She puffed absently on a vaping pen while she watched the two of them go at it, aroused herself at the animalistic display. Her arousal was tempered, however, by the unthinkable waste, a fortune in magical milk being sprayed upon the grass, or else consumed by a drunkard who had no idea of the value of what he was greedily slurping down. Anffyddwyr had a saying: “There’s no use crying over spilled milk.” Elder folk had an altogether different aphorism: “May the Goddess forgive you for wasting her bounty.”
The violet-eyed girl did her best to put aside her ingrained revulsion at the conspicuous consumption taking place before her. There were more important things to think about. She had seen many things in her long life, but she had never seen a cow out in the open like this, at least not without a few witches in attendance. Goddess, she had almost run over the stupid animal with her car!
Something was very definitely wrong here, and it wasn’t just the cross-species hump-fest going on beneath the light of the full moon. Why was this cow blithely wandering around Pendleton, Massachusetts? Why was she not with her own kind? Why was she not at a Gathering?
Moans and grunts, both human and demi-human, woke her from her thoughts. She waited for the sounds of animal lust to subside, using the time to change out the tank on her vaping pen in favor of a different one.
Armed with her most potent weapon, she moved forward. She walked slowly, high heels digging into the soft grass. She wasn’t worried about spooking the beast, knowing from firsthand experience how docile a cow was after a good fucking. Her concern was with the newly created bull. Goddess only knew what he was thinking right now.
___________________________
The young man released the teat in his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and then laid his head back onto the ground, uncaring that his hair was sloshing about in a puddle of milk, untroubled that his pants were around his knees, and supremely unconcerned that someone might discover him lying on the grass with his dick inside God knew what. The only thing on his mind was would whatever he had just fucked let him do it again.
But what had he fucked? It couldn’t be human, surely, but what else did that leave? Perhaps the beast above him was some kind of an animal, a northeast U.S. variant of Bigfoot—Bigtit? Or maybe, just maybe, this was an extra-terrestrial, a space alien. How many times had he fantasized about just such a close encounter? Thousands probably, although not this particular scenario, except possibly for the boobs.
Above him was a round white tit. It was all he could see. If he was honest with himself, it was pretty much all he ever wanted to see, at least since hitting puberty. But something had changed in him within the last few minutes. Yes, he still loved tits, but with the culmination of what could only be called out of this world sex—if what he had just nailed really was a female extra-terrestrial—then he really needed to set his sights higher, not to mention being a gentleman if he was going to be Earth’s well-hung ambassador to a race of super-busty space aliens from the constellation Taurus.
He moved his hands upward, lightly running his fingers along the pendulous milkers that were so vastly superior to those of human women. Her skin was warm, but once his fingers left the softness of the creature’s breasts they encountered fur. Curious, he thought, but was not bothered by it. It could get chilly at night, and what better bedwarmer could there be than a fur-coated alien babe with giant tits who liked to be milked and fucked at the same time? He wondered if she had a sister.
He let his hands roam further, the breasts giving way to what felt like a human rib cage, albeit a furry one. The fur was short and soft; stroking it felt soothing. He continued downward, his arms drawing inward to a surprisingly slim waist, and then back out as his hands flowed over a pair of broad hips. Hips? What kind of alien was this? An all-too human one, if you didn’t count the immense boobs and the furred skin. Perhaps she was a genetic experiment, the next stage of human evolution. She might have escaped from a lab nearby. Boston was only twenty-four miles away, and Darwin only knew what they might be getting up to down there. Yeah, a mutated cow/girl made more sense than lactating space babes, and was a damn sight better commute.
But if she was human, or at least part human, then he needed to know now. He had just had unprotected sex with someone who might or might not be able to conceive his child. There was also the possibility that he might have impregnated someone’s government funded top-secret, eyes-only lab experiment. If the latter were true, he probably wouldn’t have to pay child support, considering that the government would likely give him a lobotomy and stick him in a padded cell a thousand feet beneath the Nevada desert.
He brought his hands back up to her ribs and pushed, lightly. She responded with a soft groan that sounded more bovine than human, but was probably just his imagination (at least he hoped it was his imagination), but shifted her weight backwards as she began straightening up.
From this angle her breasts were all he could see, save for the full moon limning the giant rack. He didn’t even know how to gauge their size, bigger than watermelons but smaller than yoga balls, though not by much. What cup size would she be anyway—36ZZZZZZ? He brought his hands up and parted them, wanting to put a face to the body that his expanded prick was still inside of. His mouth dropped open.
It was a cow. An actual, honest-to-God cow looking back down at him through the valley of her udders: elongated snout, broadened and flattened nose, and black and white mottling covering half of her face. And horns, of course. Kind of hard to miss those.
But the eyes were not those of a cow. They were big and brown, yes, but they were as human as Mother Eve’s, full of curiosity but without accompanying intelligence. The young man opened his mouth in shock, then closed it, then opened it again as the shock was replaced by a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"What’s wrong, stud? Never seen a werecow before?"
The voice came from his left. Startled, he twisted his neck to see a hot looking co-ed dressed in a short skirt and boots standing just a few feet away. She had a crooked smile and was holding the mouthpiece of a vaping pen to her full lips. Despite the darkness, he could see that her eyes were an odd shade of purple.
“Where cow?” he echoed dumbly.
She smirked and shook her head. “That joke was old when I was a ’prentice witch.”
“Witch?" the young man repeated, the shock not so much subsiding as making itself at home. Well, it made sense, didn’t it? If there were such things as werecows, then it stood to reason that witches could exist as well. The only other explanation was that he had completely lost his mind, and he took some small comfort in this. After all, was it better to be sane and lonely, or insane and the center of attention of a massive-uddered human cow and a babe of a witch with an apparent oral fixation? There was only one answer to that question.
“Well, if you’re a witch, baby,” he drawled with the cockiness born of insanity, “I’ve got a broomstick you can ride on.” He proved this by scootching backwards and sitting up on the grass, his enlarged prick exiting its warm hidey-hole and emerging into the moonlight to smack against his belly.
The witch chuckled. “Pretty impressive, stud,” she said, nodding towards his recently endowed endowment, “but it’s not anything I haven’t seen before.” Smiling broadly, she reached a hand under her skirt and pulled sideways, allowing an enormous pair of testicles and an oversized penis to flop out.
“What the…?” he began, but at that moment the witch took a hit from her vaping pen and bent down and blew a double lungful of vapor into his face. The young man’s eyes rolled upwards in their sockets and his body went limp. He collapsed back onto the soft grass, instantly asleep, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
The witch straightened up and looked down at the cow, who was still sitting on her haunches, though looking with great interest at the rapidly stiffening cock raising the skirt under which it was barely concealed. “You want this, don’t you, girl?” she said, hefting her impressive appendage with her free hand. The cow did not respond, other than to straighten up and walk forward so that she could nuzzle the enormous dangling dong with her flattened snout. More than answer enough.
“You’ll get it, girl, and you’ll give me what I want in return, a couple gallons at least, I expect.” The witch got down on her knees and knelt beside the inhuman cow, putting her vaping pen on the grass within easy reach. She ran her hands over the cow’s udders, huge and fat—plenty more milk in them, and all of it hers by Elder law.
But she wouldn’t milk her here. She wasn’t worried about being seen, the lavender potion encircling the Nine Witches would last for another half hour or so, and she had plenty more in her purse. But while her potion could keep the anffyddwyr from seeing or hearing what was going on within feet of them, she would be perfectly visible to other witches, and she was damned if she was going to share this bounty.
That was the worry, other witches. They would want to exploit this cow. Milk her udders dry and fuck her until the setting of the full moon, getting every last drop of the Goddess’s bounty, after which they would discard her naked and all-too human body alongside some farm road just outside of town. She could hardly blame them for that, though. Stray ’cows had been treated that way for centuries.
But they would also want to know how she came by this cow. They would want to know where it had come from, and if there might possibly be more of them. Saint Walstan’s wasn’t exactly her turf, but the last thing she wanted was a bunch of rapacious witches combing the campus for werecows and shagging her co-eds.
She got back to her feet and straightened her skirt, making sure her sizable junk was well out of sight. That done, she removed her belt and cinched it loosely about the werecow’s throat. “Come along, girl,” she said, giving a light tug on the leather strap. “Moonlight’s wasting.”
The cow followed, a bit more relaxed now that she had been fucked and milked, and judging by the cock she had just seen she was going to get fucked and milked again. Life was good.
