It was a great job: she had the best job ever, being a hostess and a dairy maid. Damn few people could do what she did, making her guests as happy as she made them. She slammed the SUV into gear. Her guests were happy, well fed, and anxious to come back, and the population of Pennington could just bite her. Yeah, to do all that her tits had to be swollen huge, to give ounce after ounce, mouthful after mouthful, of human milk. They didn’t have to stare like she was some freak, just because she had a twenty-four inch waist and wore a G-cup.
Damn them all for whispering and pointing. Rotten people. Next time she had to come into town, she’d style her wheat-colored hair into wavy blonde pigtails and wear some Daisy Duke shorts with a rip across the ass, instead of this denim skirt that covered more than half of her thighs, and a T-shirt that would stretch across her tits like plastic wrap, instead of this entirely modest peasant shirt that fit nicely even around her extraordinary bust. If they wanted to roll their eyes at her like she was some slut, she’d give them something to talk about, the scum!
Jordyn roared out of the parking lot, her packages flying across the back seat. She’d show them, she’d buy her next lipstick on line like she bought her books. The postman could bring a smiley-box with everything she wanted, and the shop-keepers of Pennington could wonder why they weren’t making any money. If they didn’t treat their customers like people, they didn’t deserve her business! One little bitch of clerk had moo’d at her behind her back. Little twat didn’t know a thing about customer service—this client didn’t want to come back, ever.
Every one of Jordyn’s clients booked their return visits months in advance. They couldn’t wait to come back to see the Dairy Maids at Manley Dairy, and not just swim in the pond or play cowboy round-up, either, though the dairy farm offered all sorts of rustic pursuits. No, they wanted the personalized services of a Dairy Maid like Jordyn who wore the dark blue skirt that marked a top producer. They wanted to lean back in her lap and drink the most exclusive beverage in the world. And they all treated her with respect—suckling from her breasts was a privilege accorded only a few. And not a one of them from that bunch of dirty-minded townspeople.
Through a haze of tears, Jordyn aimed the vehicle down the road toward Manley Dairy, where everyone was glad to see her (except that bitch Rita) and she was treated like the lovely woman with a unique ability that she was. And she’d better get back to the dairy as soon as she could. Not just to get back among civilized people, but because she’d taken longer at the hair salon than she expected, and her breasts were full.
Full for Jordyn was really full. She averaged close to ten ounces per breast every six hours, and big as she was, that was about as much milk as she could hold. She timed her pumping by the clock when she didn’t have a client to feed directly (and oh how much nicer it was to have a man nurse the milk from her dripping nipples than to lie back while the pump went whum whum whum, although that was awfully nice when she got a little extra stimulation from one of the other dairy maids.) The big pumps were good too—she’d bend at the waist to lie on the milking bench with her huge breasts in their basins and the rollers tugging at her nipples while she rested her head on the stanchion. With a vibrator in her pussy to add some low level stimulation, she’d let down her milk and relax into a milking trance for as long as it took to drain her giant breasts.
But she needed to keep her wits about her now while she was driving: no milking trance yet, no man’s lips wrapping around her swollen buds. No matter how badly she needed to express some of the milk that filled her, she couldn’t stop. Somehow the road got longer the worse she needed to get back to the dairy.
Read the rest of this hot milky adventure: Deputy Mack never enjoyed his milk this much before, in 7100 sizzling words.
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