Simply playing with the breasts, or even tugging on the nipples was not a sufficient way to stimulate lactation in a short amount of time. The women’s breasts were not keeping up with the rate at which the births were anticipated. No, the maidens required hard sucking on the nipple to ensure they produced sufficient amounts of milk.
At first, he enlisted the help of a few men friends from the village, and of course, selfless Julian volunteered himself, to suck at the tits of the maidens. He and his men friends organized the women in a group. He had them lay on their backs on the floor of the cottage in a circle, naked. He purported this being the first ceremony of removing the curse when the hard-headed Frederique refused to go along with the plan.
But a curious thing happened, as the men and he sucked on their large, creamy breasts, the maidens were prone to fits of hysteria. First, their hands rose to the heads of the men and their graceful, long fingers twirled through the men’s hair. Then the ladies applied pressure to the backs of the men’s heads, forcing them to take the maiden's breasts into their mouths deeper and deeper still.
With the men’s mouths stuffed full of the maidens’ voluptuous tits, the ladies parted their legs and arched their backs greatly. Then, up from the bellies of the sisters came an evil, raw moan, a collective primal squeal which reverberated off the walls of the cottage, through the windows and echoed off the hills and valleys of the village. As the men sucked harder and harder on the sister’s tits, the sisters bucked their hips wildly while grinding their exposed cunts against their hands with the ferocity of a lion ripping a lamb apart.
As all of this madness went on, Alyssa screamed, fuck me now, at her stimulator Michael Talbot. Julian rushed at Michael, pushing him off Alyssa and across the cottage right before Michael plunged his hard cock into Alyssa’s wet cunt. All of the men, Julian included, could listen to these begging women and hardly resist the urge to answer their begging by ramming their hard cocks into their virginal cunts. So that method was put to rest. Forever.
Once again secluded, but still not producing sufficient milk, Julian got the idea for his invention in the most delightful way.
It came at dawn while Julian spied on the beautiful Veronica in her bath in the garden. Julian hid behind the tree to the right of the tub, pants down around his ankles, and yanked and jerked meanly at his cock while watching Veronica languishing in the tub. Her breasts, as all the maidens, had grown even larger as they began to ready for the milk. Her tits were buoyant in the water, bobbing like two of the sweetest, heaviest apples low on a branch. The ladies complained their breasts had grown extremely sensitive to the touch in the days before they readied for the children. The water was obviously soothing to Veronica because she leaned back in the tub and sensually stroked her huge tits.
Julian gripped tightly the shaft of his cock as he pictured milk as sweet as honey and warm as the sun flowing freely from Veronica’s exquisite tits. He took his other hand and slid the tube of skin that covered his cock up and down the hard rod in short furious bursts. He felt the tingling begin in his scrotum as he closed his eyes and saw himself kneeling under Veronica’s pendulous tits as she lowered her dark nipples into his mouth. He pictured himself closing his lips tightly around her beautiful nipples and bearing down while suckling harder and swirling his tongue around to get the milk running. Julian spread his legs wide and thrust his hips deeply back and forth while gripping his cock and pretending he was ramming it in and out of Veronica’s tight cunt.
Finally, he came against the tree when pictured the milk spurting out of Veronica’s tits like his semen spurted from his cock; his lips tight, guzzling her warm, sweet milk and draining her tits by sucking down every last drop.
Julian bit down hard on his bottom lip to prevent himself from screaming. When he was done making quite a mess against that poor tree in the garden while spying on poor unsuspecting Veronica in her bath, he was left quite disheveled and breathless. He steadied himself against the sticky tree and watched Veronica as she stood in her full glory from the tub. And that is the exact moment when the idea for his amazing milk-producing invention came to him. As he stood there gazing upon the pristine Veronica, looking like Venus rising from the shell, heavy beautiful breasts slick with the water from her bath, the steam rose off her stunning body like smoke tendrils.
And that was the answer: steam.
Roadside ASSistance
Five, four, three, two, one…game! State wins,' I shouted; the bar erupted in cheers. State beat Lane by a field goal, which meant we were headed to the championship game for a three-peat baby. The bar was crowded with State fans and a few Lane buttholes were scattered about. I can't say that I understand the game of football that well, but I support my team. After moving to the South, football became a part of my life. Anywhere you went in Alabama you were asked, State or Lane? You had to pick an allegiance.
So, why the South? My dad got this once in a lifetime job that uprooted the entire family from Vermont. Leaving all my friends behind was hard to do. I even contemplated living with my Gran until I finished high school. But moving to Great Plain, Alabama in my sophomore year wasn’t so bad after all. Rounds were purchased and the celebration had just begun. 'Chris!' Someone shouted from across the room. I turned, trying to make out who it could be.
'Chris Saturday,' the voice yelled out again. With my beer in hand I turned and caught a hand waving frantically in the air. It could only be one person, Justin. Justin was my old roomie from freshman year. He’d decided that college wasn’t for him and became a private entertainment dancer, a stripper. After a year of stripping he opened his own club. Two more quickly followed.
Justin was from here, so his accent was thick; not the Paula Dean fake-thick, but the genuine southern man's drawl that’d give a man like me a raging hard on.
“Long time no see.”
'You exaggerate too much. We saw each other last week at Kellie's party,' I said, giving him a playful jab to the stomach.
'I know, but it seemed like longer. I’ve been so gosh darn busy. I think I'm getting that disease that's been going around.'
I looked at Justin in amazement. The things that came out of his mouth were unbelievable. I sat back down on the stool to brace myself. 'What?' I said, trying to contain my laughter.
'Ah, that celebrity exhaustion disease. You know Kenny James who won that singing competition on TV?” he asked. I hunched my shoulders. I didn’t watch that crap.
“Chris, the new voice from Nashville? Anyway, he came down with a case and had to cancel three shows,' Justin said with a puppy dog face.
Justin wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he meant well. Thankfully his folks were smart enough to hire a business manager for his business to take care of the important stuff.
'You better take it easy buddy, I hear there isn't a cure,' I said, trying to keep a straight face. Justin furrowed his brow and nodded in agreement, “I know, right.”
Before I came to State I was a pure virgin. I thought of myself as being asexual. I just didn't have any desire to be with anyone, male or female. I was focused on graduating at the top of my class, scoring higher on the SAT’s and getting a full scholarship. It never crossed my mind that I might be gay, or maybe I was just in denial. Luckily, I had Justin to introduce me to a new world, a world full of sexy men. After a few more drinks, and more laughs than I could count, it was time to hit the road.
Though the irresponsible Chris would have loved to stay and whipped a few asses in shuffleboard, I had work in about 8 hours and I needed my beauty rest. My granny always said the night air ages you quicker; that stuck with me so I always tried to make it in at a responsible hour.
The drive home from the city was a long one. On a beautiful late fall night you could hear the cicadas singing and the all the night sounds you couldn't hear in a busy congested city. Though the commute is a bitch, it's damn peaceful. Every so often you’d pass a car, maybe two. If you ever ran out of gas you were shit-out-of-luck because the nearest gas station was 15 miles away.
The roads were another story. They're shit. Potholes, high grass on both sides, and disappearing yellow. If one wasn't used to driving these roads on a daily basis it'd be a deadly commute. A popping noise came from the
