0 comments/ 33471 views/ 3 favorites The Milkman By: Rockspider My name is Jim and I live in Birmingham in the UK. I make my living as a self-employed milkman. My round is in one of the posh suburbs to the South of the city. My customers are mostly bank managers, accountants, lawyers and the like, the sort of people who think they are too good for the likes of me. Balls to them, as long as they pay me that's OK. The only real downside to the job is getting up at 4 a.m. especially when you are on the nest and the missus is sort of warm and soft and juicy next to you. Then you have to go out and face the cold dark of winter. Mind you, summertime is great and any time of the year is good when it gets to 10 a.m. and you can knock off for the day. Saturday is a little later though, cos that's the day I go round again after and collect the weeks money. Here is something that still bloody amazes me. Some bloke you just met in the pub asks what you do for a living and when you tell him, the first thing he says is something like, "Blimey I bet you get a few nice shags from all those lonely housewives. Wish it was me." Load of cobblers that is. Yeah it happens. Once in a blue moon it happens. Usually when it does it is some lonely old slapper whose husband neglects her and who is still half pissed from the night before, reeking of booze and ciggies. I wouldn't touch one like that, even with your dick mate. Usually, but not always. Sometimes it is different. Let me tell you what happened to me. One of my good regular customers is a Mrs. Angela Smythe. She is about forty-five and a little chubby but really smart and very attractive. Her husband is called Arthur and he is, would you believe it, a bank manager. She and I have become quite friendly over the months. Every Saturday when I knock on the door she opens it dressed in a smart housecoat and we chat a bit like this: "Good morning Mrs. S, how are you today, looking well as always." "Good morning Jim, I am very well, thank you for asking. Here is your money for the week." She always gives me the money in an envelope and it is always the right amount. Then I thank her again and off I go. You get the idea? This is a classy bird. And so it goes until just three weeks ago. I turn up on her doorstep on the Saturday morning as usual and we go through the usual spiel, except something is not quite the same. Then it hits me. Her housecoat, which is usually buttoned right up to her neck, has the two top buttons undone. I almost do a double take when I spot this, I swear I can see her tits almost as far as the nipples. Fucking hell, I never had her figured for a goer. Only a few seconds pass before I look up at her face again but I know that she knows I have been looking. It must be all over my face. We finish our business and, as I am turning away she says, "Are you married Jim?" "Yeah, ten years now." "She is a lucky lady." And then she closes the door. That's it. My whole day is shot to shit. My bollocks are in an uproar. Even as I walk away I can feel my dick stirring. The thought of her keeps bothering me all through the week, especially when I am delivering to her house. Did I imagine it or was she coming on to me? Nah she is much too classy a bint to get hot for a milkman. On the other I'm not a complete fucking idiot either and I'm sure we weren't just paying for the milk that last Saturday. So the next Saturday morning here I am knocking on her front door again. I reckon this is where I find out just what the hell is going on. The moment she opens the door I know. She says the usual things but her body is talking a whole different language. No housecoat today, oh no. She is wearing a full-length sort of gown thing open enough at the front so that I can see the curve of her tits again. It is made of the sort of material that you are not sure whether you can see through or not but you wish the fuck that you could. As her body moves the gown clings and releases and it is quite plain that she is naked underneath. Also she is wearing some classy perfume that I don't recognise but I know it has cost her old man an arm and a leg. She must know what sort of effect she is having on me but she gives no sign at all. Doesn't even blink while I stumble and mutter through our usual chat like a bloody idiot. Then suddenly there I am staring at the closed door. She has gone. "Fucking cockteaser." I mutter under my breath as I go back to my wagon. As I get in I can feel my dick stiffening in my trousers. I take a good look around checking to see that no one is watching and then slip my hand into my waistband and stroke myself a few times remembering what she looked like and imagining what was under that gown. The next week drags by. I can't get this bird off my mind and I am so horny I could fuck a goat. My missus gets a good shag just about every night. She doesn't say anything though, just counts her blessings and enjoys it. She is a diamond. The days drag by until, finally, Saturday comes round again and I am standing on the Smythe's front porch and knocking on their front door. I reckon I am ready for anything but when Mrs. Smythe, Angela, opens the front door I am gobsmacked, totally speechless. She is wearing nothing but a nightie which, while not totally see-through, is pretty flimsy. It is also pretty short, only just coming down to below her arse. She doesn't give me a chance to say anything just looks me in the eye and says, "Hello Jim, I seem to have left my money upstairs, come with me and we will go and find it." "Ok," I gasp. She turns and walks away and I follow, closing the door behind me. She goes through a small hallway and up the stairs to the floor above. Only a few paces behind I look up, my eyes following the lines of her smooth legs past her knees, along her fleshy white thighs and right up to her crotch. No panties, just a great big hairy muff with the pink lips of her slit just visible through the thick fur. I can feel my cock getting hard already. At the top she turns and faces me, "Do you like what you see, Jim?" She waits just a heartbeat and goes on, "You want to see my cunt now?" "Oh god, yes, please." Croaking, mouth dry, tongue thick. She laughs and spreads her legs slightly, bending her knees. Her nightie falls open at the front and with the fingers of both hands she pulls her wet pink gash open for me to see. "Now Jim," she orders, "Eat my pussy. Lick my cunt and suck my clit. Taste me and smell me!" I don't need a second invitation. I just bend forward and stick my face in there, licking all up and down her lips and then sucking hard on her clitty. I breathe in hard sucking down that cunt smell. Man that turns me on! I have hardly got going when she pushes my head away and she turns around. She pulls her arse cheeks apart with both hands and says, "I want to feel your tongue in my arsehole Jim, lick me there too!" I stick my tongue way out and lick my way up and down her crack from her cunt at the bottom all the way up to the top of her arse crack, tasting and smelling her. Then I stick my tongue into her hole as deep as I can, reaming her out. She enjoys it for a few moments and then she moves, walking on to a door on the left and going through. I follow her and inside I find her stripped off on a big double bed. Her legs are wide open and this lady is lying there like a slut. "Get your clothes off and fuck me." she says. " I want your cock inside me." I strip off in a flash and my cock pops out of my trousers like a bloody crowbar. I bend down to start sucking on her cunt again but she almost yells at me, "No, I said fuck me, I want your cock in my cunt, I want to be fucked!" I crawl up her body and shove my dick right in, no foreplay. She is sopping. My cock just slides in like it is greased, right up to the hilt and I start to fuck her like there is no tomorrow. I am ramming it in as hard as I can, our pubic bones are banging together, my cock tip is hitting her cervix and she just keeps yelling in my ear, "Fuck me you fucker, ram me, hurt me fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on you fucking wimp!" That pisses me off somewhere inside and I want to fuck her so hard that it hurts but whatever I give her she just soaks up. Finally she gives this incredible scream and starts to shake violently, thrashing all over the bed. It is only her legs locked around my waist that keeps me inside her. Then it is all over for me too. It feel like my cock is exploding and I just pour my cum deep in her pussy as I hold my cock in as far as I can I collapse on the bed next to her, our two sweaty bodies trembling with exertion. Then I hear a groaning sound that seems to come from the far corner of the room. "What the fuck is that?" I shout. Angela grips my arm, "Relax Jim, its only Arthur." She turns toward a curtained alcove in the corner of the room and calls out, "You can come out now Arthur." "Yes dear," says this voice from behind the curtain and I watch in amazement as her husband comes into the room. He is stark bollock naked and he has his hard dick in his hand. He has obviously just shot his load, there is cum all over his belly, and his cock and his hand are dripping. He sits down in a chair a few feet away from the side of the bed. "Arthur likes to masturbate while he watches other men fuck me, don't you Arthur?" "Yes dear," he replies. This is turning a little weird but I think, "What the fuck," and lie back and relax. Angela curls up next to me and softly strokes my chest while I hold her close, my arm around her. Arthur just sits in his chair and says fuck all. Some time later Angela starts to nibble my ear and her hand closes around my soft cock. "Do you think you can get it up again dear?" she whispers in my ear as she strokes it. "Yeah I reckon." She bends down and takes my shrunken dick in her mouth and begins to suck it and roll it around in her mouth. Her tongue is like a living thing, licking all the most sensitive parts. This bird could bring the dead back to life and I'm a long way from dead so it's not surprising when I gradually get harder and harder till my pride and joy is again standing straight up. Angela looks over at Arthur and asks, "Do you think we should ask Jim to fuck me in the arse?" and she whispers in my ear, "He really does love to see a lovely thick cock up my hole." "Yes dear, I do," he replies. "Hasn't he got a lovely thick cock, Arthur? I would really like that in my arsehole. Why don't you ask him to fuck me there?" "Yes dear," and he turns to me and asks, "Please Jim would you fuck Angela in the arse?" Man this is getting so fucking weird, but, what the fuck, I should give a shit, so I say to him in my best artificial posh accent, " Certainly Arthur old chap, I would love to roger her delightful arse." Angela gives a silly bloody giggle and then yells at Arthur, " What are you waiting for you fool, pass me the KY jelly!" "Sorry dear," and he gets a tube of KY from the bedside table and passes it to her. She squeezes out a generous blob into the palm of her hand and smoothes it up and down the length of my dick. She gets on to her knees and bends forward, holding her arse cheeks as wide as she can. "Go on Jim lad, what the fuck are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" I learn fast me. I don't need a second invite before I am kneeling between her legs and the head of my fat swollen tool is pushing at the tight ring of her hole. I give a push and nothing happens so I just ram it at her and, bang, the head pops in past her ring and she gives a little squeal. I just keep going, pushing it in slowly, deeper and deeper until my balls are dipping into her cum soaked snatch. She clenches the muscles of her arsehole and my cock just loves it. I know I am not going to last any longer than a rabbit trying to multiply but I don't give a toss. I just start pumping away at that magical tight shithole. My cock is stained brown as it comes out and goes back in. My nose picks up the smell and I hear her moan as I keep up a smooth even rhythm. In the background I hear Arthur panting a little and I catch sight of him beating his meat at the same pace. I don't give a damn who cums with me but I'm ready. I ram it in one, two, three and then I hold it there buried as my cum just pours out of my cock deep into her guts. I know Angela hasn't cum but she still yells at me, "Yes Jim, fill my arse with your cum, empty your balls in me!" I tremble and shake a few times and then pull my dick out with a sucking sound before I flop onto my back on the bed. She leans down to me and whispers in my ear, "That was great Jim, now be a good lad and fuck off, its Arthur's turn." Bloody hell this is a bit sudden and I am about to ask her what the hell she is playing at when I see her face and she goes on, "You've had yours, don't spoil it now. Arthur deserves a bit as well. Go on, get dressed and go. I will see you next week." Ok, fair enough, and as I am getting off the bed she adds, "By the way, your milk money is on the hall table, pick it up as you go out." I am still getting dressed and Arthur has climbed on the bed. He is crouched behind Angela, who is still on her hands and knees, and he is tonguing her, all the way from her cunt up through her arse channel. I can hear him sucking down my cum from both holes and I can see how she is already getting really hot and bothered again. He is stroking his very hard cock, which I know is going into that sopping wet hole any second now. They don't even notice me leave. A few minutes later I have my money and I am sitting in my wagon, thinking about next Saturday and wondering how the fuck I am going to get the smell of sex off me before I get home. The Milkman Chestnut Falls, 1949 Scotty Stephens sat up straight and cleared his throat as he turned the corner onto Maple Street. The little milk truck trundled along quietly down the little shady street and came to a gentle stop in front of the first house. Scotty sat there for a moment gripping the steering wheel. He had been looking forward to this day for weeks. The wives of Maple Street were notorious for their hospitality to the delivery men who were fortunate enough to get this route, and when Scotty heard of the availability of the position he jumped at the chance. It was only his second job; at only eighteen years old, Scotty had already been working the counter at Hadley's Burger Palace for two years and he was eager for a change. He knew the good fortune that awaited on the morning route of a milkman in Chestnut Falls and, despite being awkwardly inexperienced, Scotty was determined to get out of the burger shop and onto more satisfying prospects. Scotty looked into the rearview mirror; he adjusted his bow tie and straightened his cap. He took pride in his new uniform, fresh and brilliantly white. He grabbed his bottle carrier and loaded it with Mrs. Anderson's order: two bottles of milk, one of heavy cream, and, to Scotty's confusion, a single carafe left empty. It was an odd request, an empty milk bottle, but what was doubly confusing was that every house on Maple Street had the same puzzling request. Taking a breath, he stepped out of his truck and onto the sidewalk. He was a good looking young man, tall, boyish face, brown hair, and he had a solid, muscular build that filled out his new uniform perfectly. He was a delightful young man who always seemed to wear a smile, a smile that back in his high school days made all the young girls melt. But Scotty was oblivious to it. Shy, naive and innocent, Scotty had busied himself so thoroughly with school, his buddies, and the burger palace, that he never gave much of a chance to date girls. He was embarrassed to admit that he had only kissed one girl all throughout his four years at Madison. But all that would soon change, he thought to himself as he walked up the driveway to the Anderson house. He walked around the house to the backdoor and knocked. He checked his breath as he waited quietly. The door opened and there stood Mrs. Anderson; she was tall, slender and radiantly beautiful. Scotty gulped. To him she looked like Lana Turner with her shiny, blonde hair and her fair, smooth complexion. His voice nearly squeaked as he spoke. "G-G-Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," he stuttered. "I have your milk delivery for you." "Well, my word," Mrs. Anderson exclaimed. "If it isn't little Scotty Stephens! When did you become my milkman?" Scotty smiled. "Just this morning, mam. It's-It's my first day." Mrs. Anderson beamed. "Well, how do you like that? Look how big you've grown? Why I remember like it was just yesterday I was watching you ride your bicycle down the street with your friends. You boys were forever getting into all sorts of mischief." Scotty smiled sheepishly and dropped his head. "Yes, mam; but a lot has changed since then." "I'll say," Mrs. Anderson replied. "Well, do please come inside; bring in my order and I'll get my purse." Scotty entered into Mrs. Anderson's kitchen. It smelled of cinnamon and cream. Scotty looked over and saw a small pot cooking on the stove. "Smells delicious, Mrs. Anderson." "Oh, thank you," she replied from the hallway. "I'm just warming up some oatmeal. My husband left for work early this morning and I was so busy with getting my children ready for school, I nearly forgot to eat something myself." Scotty placed his milk carrier down on the kitchen table. "I have your order here, Mrs. Anderson: two bottles of milk, one bottle of heavy cream, and one bottle left empty. If you don't mind me asking Mrs. Anderson, what do you plan to do with the empty bottle?" Mrs. Anderson returned to the kitchen. She paused and made a face. "Why, didn't they tell you?" Scotty was puzzled. "Who didn't tell me?" "Why, your predecessor. Or your boss? Surely they mentioned it." Scotty shook his head. "No, mam. No one told me anything." Mrs. Anderson placed her hands on her hips. "Well how do you like that? You poor boy have no idea." Scotty stood there quietly. He was completely confused. Why hadn't someone told him? There was no time, he supposed; everyone had been so busy and had been running around trying to find a replacement for the Maple Street route, and he hadn't even thought to ask. All Scotty knew, what he heard about the Maple Street route was that the women he brought deliveries to always paid their milkman in kisses. Scotty's eyes widened and his ears had perked up the day he overheard Mr. Davis telling this to old man Hadley at the burger counter one afternoon. Mr. Davis had been the previous milkman with the Maple Street route. He had been whispering about his affairs to Hadley but Scotty couldn't hear everything he had said. But he had heard about the kissing. A kiss from each lady. From that moment on, Scotty was determined to get the milkman job when it became available. "Oh, Scotty, Scotty, Scotty," Mrs. Anderson said, shaking her head. "So young and naive. Tell me, what did you hear about your new job? What did they tell you about being a milkman?" Scotty gulped. He stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say. He decided there was no point in skirting the truth. "I had heard that I would be rewarded with a kiss from each lady on Maple Street." "Rewarded?" Mrs. Anderson laughed. "With a kiss? Oh Scotty, you're too much." She walked over to where Scotty was standing. Scotty licked his lips. "Mrs. Anderson?" he squeaked. "Yes, Scotty?" "Um, you don't have to kiss me," he said. "Not if you don't want to." Mrs. Anderson pierced him with her eyes. She placed her hands on his chest. Scotty swallowed hard and pumped out his chest. He didn't want beautiful Mrs. Anderson to think he was a weakling. He knew he was a strapping young man with a solid chest and he wanted to make sure Mrs. Anderson knew it. "Scotty," she said. "There's so much more that I want to do than to kiss you." She leaned in and gave him a soft, tender kiss. Scotty melted. He couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe it was happening to him, with Mrs. Anderson. Suddenly, there was an urging in his groin. Scotty tried to keep the kiss going but he could feel his penis beginning to grow inside his pants. Scotty tried to think of baseball. He thought of his old leather mitt lying in the drawer of his dresser back at home. He tried to think of his baseball bat, the Saturday afternoon sun, the baseball diamond. Anything to take his mind off what was happening. He moved his hands over the front of his pants. This couldn't be happening, he thought, not now! What would Mrs, Anderson say? There was no way she wouldn't see it. For years Scotty had struggled with it, been ashamed about it, tried desperately to hide it. But it was growing, bigger and bigger, the secret he tried to hide all his life. The real reason why he didn't make time for girls in high school. Would she make fun of him? Would she be afraid? There was no way he could hide it now; it was too late. Mrs. Anderson would know. Scotty Stephens had a thick, 13-inch penis. It was enormous. A mighty python of flesh, hefty and firm. He had had it all his life. Everyday it hung low and heavy between his thighs. Back in high school he would find any excuse to avoid showering with the other boys in gym class. He'd seen the other boys' penises and when he realized how much larger he was than all the other guys around him he labeled himself a freak and avoided getting naked in front of anyone. He did everything he could think of to hide it, but it was no easy feat. Whenever the mood caught him, when it pulsed with warm blood, ready to be put to use, it became a monster to be reckoned with, a massive cannon of manhood loaded with masculine nectar. Scotty's dick was pushing through his pants. Mrs. Anderson looked down and gasped. "Scotty Stephens! What have you got down there?" Scotty's palms began to sweat, the bowtie around his neck seemed to tighten. What would she say? What would she do? Scotty was surprised to see the glimmer in Mrs. Anderson's eyes as she looked at him as she lowered herself down before him. "Mrs. Anderson, what are you doing?" Mrs. Anderson giggled. "Oh, Scotty, don't tell me you've never done this before?" Scotty stood there bewildered. What was happening? Surely Mrs. Anderson could see the growing appendage pressing against his pants. She began to unfasten Scotty's belt buckle. "Mrs. Anderson," Scotty pleaded. "I don't think you should do that. I don't want you to..." Mrs. Anderson shushed him, looking into his eyes. Scotty watched as she pulled his shirt up and undid his pants. Finally, she pulled his boxer shorts down and Scotty's incredible, 13-incher blasted out of his pants. Mrs. Anderson's jaw dropped and she gazed at his enormous member with incredulous admiration. "Scotty Stephens..." Scotty swallowed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ander—" "It's beautiful!" Mrs. Anderson exhaled. Scotty stopped, stunned. "Excuse me?" Mrs. Anderson licked her lips. "It's the most beautiful cock I've ever seen, Scotty." She was truly awestruck. She looked up at him and gazed into his eyes. Scotty stood there before her, his dick unbridled and ready, hard and hot. Mrs. Anderson began to salivate at the thought of tasting his penis, of having his manhood inside her, of tasting the seed that would surely gush forth from his dick like a tsunami. She placed her hand on his thighs and looked up at him. Scotty gave her an adorable, crooked smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Anderson." Mrs. Anderson's eyes bore through him. "I'm going to give you that kiss now, Scotty." Scotty smiled at Mrs. Anderson. Then he quickly closed his eyes and pursed his lips, waiting for her kiss. He waited for a moment, his lips pursed in the air. But no kiss came. Suddenly he felt something soft and wet run gently along the side of his penis. He opened his eyes and looked down. Mrs. Anderson's tongue was running along the length of his shaft lovingly. Scotty's eyes bulged at the sight. What was she doing? Was she really doing this? Was Mrs. Anderson licking his penis? She placed her mouth on his dick, her lips wrapping themselves delicately around the head of his cock. Scotty's body stiffened when he felt her warm, soft tongue against the pulsing head. He swallowed hard; never in a million years did he think he would ever have his penis inside of a girl's mouth. It seemed unnatural, dirty and bizarre, but as soon as Mrs. Anderson began to move her head back and forth, he dropped his head back and enjoyed the intense pleasure of suction, of having a beautiful woman suck on his penis. "Oh, Mrs. Anderson..." he sighed. She looked up at him, her eyes peering up at him over his massive hard-on. She pulled away from his dick. "Does this feel good, Scotty?" she asked sweetly. Scotty swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Anderson, it does." She smiled. "Do you want me to keep doing it?" "Yes, please, Mrs. Anderson." he replied. Mrs. Anderson gave a tiny laugh and opened her mouth for Scotty's enormous cock once more. She gobbled up as much as she could and satiated herself on his thick, delicious meat stick. It was plump and juicy, a feast for which she could have all that she wanted. Scotty couldn't believe what was happening. His thoughts were racing around his head. What good luck had befallen him on this beautiful Monday morning? After all the years of shame, the years of hiding his penis, afraid of what people would say, and now here was Mrs. Anderson, wonderful Mrs. Anderson, being so nice to him. She wasn't afraid, she wasn't making fun of him. Instead she was kissing it. She was sucking on it. And it seemed like she was really enjoying it. Scotty closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling Mrs. Anderson's mouth gave to his penis. It made Scotty feel really special. Mrs. Anderson moaned with pleasure through Scotty's dick. She couldn't believe another woman had never had the chance to taste it before her. Was she really his first? She bobbed her head back and forth, slobbering all over his johnson. She brought a hand to the base of his shaft and began to pump while she sucked the head. Her jaw began to ache from his unbelievable girth, but she didn't waver, she delighted in pleasuring the cute, bashful young man. To give her jaw a rest, Mrs. Anderson pulled Scotty's dick from her mouth and began to trace her tongue up and down and all along the sides of his shaft. She looked up at him as she licked. His eyes were closed and his head was back, he was indulging in the satisfaction her mouth provided. She could see his brawny chest heaving, pushing though his white uniform shirt. She wanted to see more. Mrs. Anderson got up from the floor and began to unbutton his shirt. "Oh, Scotty, you were always such a good boy." "Mrs. Anderson," Scotty sighed. "That felt really good. Will you — will you do it again?" His innocence turned Mrs. Anderson on. "Of course I will, my darling," she replied. "But first I want to get you out of these clothes." Scotty nodded. He usually did everything he could to prevent anyone from seeing him naked, but this was different. Mrs. Anderson had already seen his large penis. He pulled himself out of his pants and tossed them to the side. Mrs. Anderson had already opened his shirt and was busy tonguing his nipple. She brought a hand to his shaft and began to stroke gently. Her hand was small but felt soft and comforting wrapped around his thick flesh. "I want to see your tits, Mrs. Anderson." His face flushed as soon as he said it. He couldn't believe the words he just spoke. It had just come out, instinctually. Scotty bit his lips, ready for Mrs. Anderson to become upset and tell him to leave. But she didn't. Mrs. Anderson pulled away from his chest, smiling at him, the twinkle in her eye. She reached both arms behind her and slowly began to unzip her dress. She pulled the top of her dress down and out bounced two gorgeous melons, soft and tender. Scotty was hypnotized by their massive beauty. Not since he was an infant had he longed to suck on such a breast. He leaned over and placed his mouth on her tit and began to suck on the nipple. Mrs. Anderson placed a hand on the back of his head and cradled him as he sucked, her hand still softly stroking his throbbing hard-on. After he had his fill, Scotty looked at Mrs. Anderson. "Mrs. Anderson? Will you put your mouth on my penis again?" Mrs. Anderson smiled. "I'd love to, Scotty." Scotty, feeling bold and empowered by having the courage to ask Mrs. Anderson to keep sucking on him, sat down on the kitchen table, his arms propping himself up behind him. He was surprised at how free and comfortable he felt being naked with her; how uninhibited he now felt with his large penis. He stared at Mrs. Anderson's creamy jugs, noticing her soft, smooth, perfect skin. How he loved seeing it, all of it, uncovered and exposed. It felt natural, right somehow, to be naked with her, to have his dick swinging freely, hard, primed and ready. To feel soft hands wrap around it, to stroke it, to have a mouth suck on it. Mrs. Anderson lowered herself down on her knees again and took him back into her mouth. Scotty's head swam as she sucked on his dick. He never knew such a feeling, such an incredible sensation could come from a girl's mouth on his penis. There had been mornings when he'd wake in his bed, his penis hard as a ramrod, bulging from his boxer shorts. There had been an uncomfortable feeling from within, something he couldn't satisfy, like an itch he couldn't scratch. Who would have known that relief could have been found by simply asking a girl to suck on it. Mrs. Anderson had moved herself down lower and had begun to lick his balls. Scotty let out a long, loud sigh. Mrs. Anderson was incredible. Scotty wet his lips. He curled his toes as he felt her warm, soft tongue drag over his large, heavy balls. "Oh, Scotty," Mrs. Anderson whispered. "These balls are so big. Do you have a big treat for me?" Scotty was silent. He didn't know what she was talking about. He hadn't brought anything. Mrs. Anderson laughed. "Wow," she said. "You really don't know, do you?" Scotty sat there quietly, not knowing what to say. He just wanted to sit there and enjoy Mrs. Anderson lap up his genitals. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Mrs. Anderson said. "You'll see. Now, watch what I can do." And with that Mrs. Anderson was off to the races. She plunged her head down and began to suck Scotty with everything she had. She'd never in her life had a dick as big as Scotty's and it was definitely putting her to work. But she was a trooper, all her life she prided herself on her ability to give great head; back in her days at Madison High she spent nearly every afternoon working a dick with her mouth. The entire male student body had ranked her the best in their class. But married life slowed her down a bit; she loved her husband, she loved sucking his dick, but she missed the variety, the different sizes, the different lengths, the different smells. But now she had something new, something exciting. Here she had yet another chance, an opportunity to relive her youth, to show the world she still had it; she was determined to give Scotty an unforgettable blowjob. "Oh my..." Scotty let out. He grasped the tabletop. Mrs. Anderson's mouth was really working overtime now. He could feel her tongue swirling around his pole as her mouth sucked harder. She brought both hands to his shaft and began to pump feverishly. Hands, lips, tongue, all of these reserved solely for Scotty's dick, concentrating on only him, working in a perfect pleasurable unison. Scotty didn't want it to end. But suddenly, something erupted inside his balls. An explosion that he couldn't contain. He gripped the table tighter. "Oh! Oh!" he cried. "Mrs. Anderson! Mrs. Anderson!" His dick was engorging. She moaned with pleasure as she sucked, her mouth and hands flying up and down his fuck pole. Mrs. Anderson was sucking the boyhood right out of him. And right then and there, something happened, Scotty changed. With no thought at all, out of sheer instinct, Scotty grabbed Mrs. Anderson's head and shoved it down, thrusting his dick down her throat. "Yeah! Suck it, bitch. Suck it!" His dick spasmed against Mrs. Anderson's tongue and unleashed a tidal wave of cum into her hungry mouth. Scotty, clutching Mrs. Anderson's head, holding it down on his cock, dominated her. Scotty Stephens was now a man. The hot gunk geysered out of him, coating Mrs. Anderson's tongue with a thick, sour sauce. Her mouth flooded with Scotty's aged, pent-up reserves of adolescence. She swallowed. Scotty shot another warm wad, this time it was fresh, crisp, buttery and delicious. She savored it. Her eyes began to water as she tried to keep up with Scotty. She swallowed his batch, and before she could even catch a quick breath he had blasted another round and filled her mouth to the brim. For sixteen years Mrs. Anderson had been sucking her husband's dick every evening when he returned home from work. She would greet him at the door with his drink, usher him to his favorite chair, light his cigarette, and while he reclined with his drink she would do her wifely duty and swallow it all up when he had finished. Then she would return to the kitchen to get dinner prepared. She enjoyed cum, she delighted in it's warmth, how it rushed into her mouth, and the aftertaste that lingered long after the seed was swallowed. But nothing could have prepared her for what young Scotty Stephens was unloading inside her gullet. The Milkman She swallowed again, and quickly she snatched the empty carafe from Scotty's milk carrier and lowered it beneath his dick. Scotty's balls erupted again and his load dumped into the carafe. Mrs. Anderson used her hand to pump Scotty, aiming his cock into the bottle, milking him. Scotty continued to unload into the bottle, his dick milk nearly filling the carafe. Mrs. Anderson's hand warmed itself against the glass of the bottle as it filled with Scotty's fresh seed. Scotty was out of breath as he sat on the kitchen table. He relaxed and his eyes softened as he looked at Mrs. Anderson, her little hand still stroking him. His eyes widened as he looked at the milk bottle in Mrs. Anderson's hands. "Did that come out of me?" Mrs. Anderson giggled. "Yes, it did, Scotty," she said. "And I have a feeling there may be just a bit more left in there." She gave his dick a long, strong suck. A wave of orgasm came over Scotty one last time as he shot one final load of ball juice into Mrs. Anderson's eager mouth. Scotty shivered. He looked down at Mrs. Anderson. His dick was lodged deep into her face. She had the gooey white stuff all over her lips, some of it was running down her chin. She was a mess, but there was something radiant about her, Scotty realized she had never looked more beautiful to him than she did right then. Mrs. Anderson gulped down his load and she let his dick fall from her lips. "Thank you, Scotty; that was wonderful." Scotty smiled sheepishly at her. "Aw, shucks, it was nothing." Mrs. Anderson stood up, still clutching the fresh carafe. "Mrs. Anderson," Scotty asked. "What is that stuff?" Mrs. Anderson shook her head and smiled at him. "Don't you worry about it Scotty. You'll learn about it soon enough." Scotty's dick was beginning to soften. He got up from the kitchen table and collected his clothes. He realized that though Mrs. Anderson had removed his shirt, he was still wearing his black bow tie. He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. He grabbed his shirt but Mrs. Anderson stopped him. "Scotty," she said, placing her hands on his. "You know, it's getting warm outside, maybe you could finish your route without the shirt." Scotty was puzzled. "Without my shirt?" "Yes," she replied, gazing at his body. "You have an incredible body, Scotty. It'd be a shame to hide it. Here," she straightened his cap, took his shirt from him and stuffed a corner of it into the back of his waistband. "There, that's perfect." Scotty stood there in his new uniform sans his shirt. Mrs. Anderson licked her lips as her eyes poured over his chest muscles. She handed him his milk carrier. "Now, where are you off to next?" Scotty thought for a moment. "Next I am delivering an order for Mrs. Gilford." "Mrs. Gilford, next door?" "Yes, mam," he replied. Mrs. Anderson turned to her telephone and began to dial. After a moment, "Yes, Violet? Good morning this is Elizabeth. Yes. Listen, I just received my delivery from the milkman and he'll be on his way to your house shortly. Yes. Yes. Well, you'll never believe it, but there's been a change in carriers. Yes. Well, you'll never believe it but it's little Scotty Stephens. Yes! Yes!" She laughed. "Absolutely. Oh yes, I'm sure you will. Ok dear, I'll see you this afternoon. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and walked over to Scotty. She ran her hands over his chest once more and gave him a soft, tender kiss. "You run along now, Scotty. I'll see you soon." Scotty tipped his cap to her. "Have a nice day, Mrs. Anderson." He walked out of the Anderson home and made his way next door to the Gilford's little white frame house. He skipped up the back steps to the kitchen and knocked on the door. "Milkman," he called. A voice came from inside the kitchen. "Come on in, Scotty." Scotty opened the door and let himself inside. He hadn't even returned to his milk truck, he hadn't even filled his carrier with Mrs. Gilford's order. But it didn't matter. There would be time for that later. Propped against the kitchen table was Mrs. Gilford, a young housewife, fresh and stunning. An emerald, silk bathrobe hung open from her shoulders, her bare breasts exposed, her pussy peeking out at him. Scotty swallowed. "Mrs. Gilford?" His dick began to fill with blood again. She smiled. "Yes, Scotty." A crooked, boyish smile began to spread across his face. Scotty was beginning to understand. It was all coming to light. He tightened his grip around the handle of his carrier; he was the new milkman of Maple Street. He licked his lips. "It seems I forgot to grab your milk from the truck, Mrs. Gilford." Mrs. Gilford pouted her lips and gave him eyes. "Well, how do you like that?" She walked over to where Scotty stood. She smelled of honey and lilac. She placed her hands on his smooth chest and began to play with his nipples. "But I wouldn't worry about it; I prefer to get my milk straight from the source." Scotty was ready to burst from his pants. "You want to suck this dick, Mrs. Gilford?" She giggled and backed away from him. She let the bathrobe fall to the floor and she bent over the kitchen table, teasing him with her smooth, gorgeous ass. "I do. I really do. But first I need you to fill...a previous order." Scotty stared at her bent over the table, her tight little asshole puckering. He unfastened his belt and pulled his cock out — his massive, thick, 13-incher of pure and perfect manhood. Mrs. Gilford's eyes bulged at the sight. Scotty moved closer to her. He readied his enormous throbber and brought it directly to Mrs. Gilford's back door. He placed a hand on her waist. She looked up at him, hesitation in her eyes. Scotty gave her a wink. "Here you are, Mrs. Gilford. Special delivery." The Milkman Cometh 'One extra pint today - and double-cream!' Enoch crunched the scribbled note in his hand, put it in his pocket and grinned: Mrs. Howell was one of his favourite customers and he never let her down. Carefully, he twisted the solid brass handle and eased the heavy oak door aside, shushing it sternly when it creaked on its hinges. He looked over his shoulder, not expecting to see anyone on the lane at this early hour, but better safe than sorry. Nothing stirred in the grey dawn except a robin, hopping over the well manicured lawn, looking for breakfast. "The early bird catches the worm," he said to himself, closing the door behind him and looking up the stairs to his right. "This early bird needs more than a worm to satisfy her appetite," an educated voice said in a husky tone. Startled, Enoch looked behind him where she was waiting, clad in a flimsy nightgown that lay half-open exposing a creamy expanse of thigh and a sensuously curved breast. His grin widened and he stepped forward, parting the delicate lace curtain aside to run a hand across her smooth stomach and around her slender waist, pulling her towards him. "I know what you need," he whispered, taking a firm handful of her pert bottom. She wiggled seductively in his arms, rubbing her crotch on his growing erection, sighing happily at the solid sensation of it on her bushy mound. "Something hot, thick and creamy," she breathed in his ear, nipping it playfully between her teeth. Enoch buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed the soft skin gently, inhaling the light fragrance of her perfume and the deeper musk of her arousal mixed with night-sweat from her slumber, an intoxicating blend that hardened his desire for this middle-aged mother of two. Her kids had left home several years before he arrived in the village, although she didn't mind telling him of their success in London where her husband also worked as some high-flying lawyer, too busy to take care of her most basic need, though he kept her in a lifestyle that suited her expensive tastes. "I got just what you ordered right here," he said, unzipping his trousers. "Mmmmmmm," she purred, wrapping her slim fingers around his thick shaft, "Is that all for me?" Enoch rubbed her juicy slit with a knowing finger and slid his other hand up to cup her breast, teasing the nipple into a hard button. Mrs. Howell arched into his body and moaned softly, encouraging him to suck it while she stroked him from tip to root. "Of course," he said, transferring his attention to the other teat, "this is a special delivery; just for you (and all the other horny white bitches round here). "God, I love this cock," she groaned, rubbing the enlarged head on her swollen clit. "This big beautiful black cock!" 'They all say that,' he thought, feeling her slide smoothly down to her knees. "Suck on it," he said aloud, his voice roughened with desire for her warm, wet mouth. Her moan vibrated through his shaft as she took the head between her lips and he groaned in reply, twisting her hair between his fingers, forcing her mouth open to accept his hard cock. She looked up at him with an expression that would've amazed her husband and shocked her friends who thought of her as Vera the housewife, Vera the staunch supporter of the local Rotary Club; Vera, the well spoken advocate of the Countryside Alliance. Only Enoch ever saw Vera the Whore, the cocksucking whore who delighted in gobbling the contents of his well hung balls; one hand cupped the large, hairy sacs as though weighing the potential amount contained within, the other disappeared between her parted thighs, rubbing briskly. "Fuck my mouth," she crudely demanded when he pulled out to wipe his spit-slick length over her face. Vera loved the way he made her feel so uninhibited, so slutty, and had craved his physical presence ever since she'd laid eyes on him. Their previous milkman, old Ted, had collected his money every Saturday for forty five years in the village before retiring last year, and had introduced Enoch as his replacement on Ted's last round. Her greeting had been cool, her handshake perfunctory, as it was with all tradesmen, but she found herself intrigued nonetheless; his polite manner and dignified approach melted her icy reserve, and after a few months, she began to wonder if it was true: were black men as big as they said? Oh, she watched the chat shows, read the gossip columns on idle afternoons and knew how they bragged that 'once you go black, you never go back'. Her chance to find out came by accident; a simple misunderstanding. Vera had innocently asked if he could deliver chocolate milk and became flustered by his raised eyebrow in response. She'd blushed to the roots of her carefully dyed blonde hair when he asked how many times a week would she like it and avoided his deep brown eyes that seemed to know what she'd been thinking. "Once a week is fine," she'd said, "I like a warm drink at night, before bed, to relax me." "I'm sure you do." She glanced at him, unable to prevent her eyes sliding over his crotch, drawn like a moth to a flame. "What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" "It means," he said, closing the kitchen door with his foot and stepping beyond the threshold, "that a woman like you needs to relax." Vera spluttered at his impertinence. "A woman like ..." "I've seen the way you look at me," he went on, brushing aside her indignant retort, "staring at it - don't deny it." His voice rose to overcome her guilty denial. "We both know it's true." "I am a respectable -" "- married woman, yeah I know; but you're still wondering, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes." "Wondering about what?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes went wide when he slowly unzipped his fly, exposing a long black length of meat that swung between his legs like one of the black puddings in the butcher's shop window. It held her spellbound, unable to deny the truth of what he said. Enoch simply said; "This." offering his enormous phallus up for her in both hands. Vera knew she'd never have a better chance of satisfying her curiosity; her husband was out on an errand, her children were on holiday and the maid never came on weekends. She was alone with her dark fantasy, dangling in temptation before her grey-green eyes. "Can I touch it?" she wondered aloud. "No! You should go - now!" She took a step back and bumped into the large oak table, a wedding gift from her mother. Enoch stood his ground, brandishing the muscular appendage like a deadly weapon. "Do you really want me to go?" he said, slapping the enormous head in his hand. "You can touch it if you like - it won't bite." "Maybe I will," she said coyly. "No, please go," she repeated firmly. "My husband will return soon." 'Then you'll never know how it feels in your hand,' an insidious voice whispered in her mind. 'Or how it feels in your mouth, in your ...' Vera shook her head, partly to clear her lewd thoughts but mostly in disbelief at the size of him. His phallus was growing slowly erect, like the boom of a crane lifting a heavy load, swelling in length and girth beyond anything her imagination could conjure up. She licked her dry lips, aware that her breathing had become short and fast, matching her heartbeat. "I mean it, he'll come home shortly." "Do you think he'll come before I do?" Enoch grinned, his hand gliding over the ebony shaft with long, slow strokes. "You mean you're ... have you no shame!" "Do you? You're standing there panting and rubbing your pussy like a bitch in heat." Guiltily, Vera pulled her hand from her crotch without knowing how it had got there in the first place. She took a deep breath to calm her self and shivered, feeling her erect nipples rub on the inside of her bra, eliciting fresh thrills through her body. "I should call the police!" she said, trying to regain control of a situation that was rapidly getting out of control. "And tell them what?" Enoch said, stepping purposefully towards her. "I'm not going to rape you, Mrs. Howell. This is what you want." "How dare you presume." she said, her vehemence barely above a whisper "I'll dare anything for a beautiful woman, Vera." She ignored his presumptuous use of her Christian name and looked him in the eye for the first time. Her husband hadn't given such a compliment for so long she couldn't remember when. "You think I'm attractive?" Enoch peered down at his erection. "It looks that way, doesn't it." Vera followed his gaze and blushed. Enoch took one step back; "Shall I leave now?" "No!" Her hand shot out of its own volition, capturing the beast behind its large, throbbing head. She took it back quickly, as if it burned her tender palm. "I mean ..." "That's okay, Vera," Enoch said, guiding her hand back onto his shaft, stroking it under her own. "My goodness, it's so hard," she said, squeezing it. Enoch gasped and moved their hands faster together. "Do that again," he urged. "It feels so good!" Vera saw the glazed expression come over his liquid brown eyes and grew bold, realising she now had, literally, the upper hand. His breathing deepened to a low rumble, exciting her in turn. The illicit sensation of behaving badly for once in her strait-laced, buttoned-up life excited her even more, and she stroked harder, faster, the silver bracelet on her wrist jangling merrily in tune with her own desire to bring him pleasure. A powerful tremor ran through his entire length and a thick bead of creamy juice bloomed on the purplish-black head, like one of the snowdrops in the garden at the first touch of spring, she thought, pumping harder. "Keep going," Enoch begged, holding her shoulders to keep his balance. "Don't stop!" His strength forced Vera to her knees, and face to face with the object of her dreams. Tentatively, she stuck out her tongue and lapped the sticky ooze from his slit, bringing a loud groan from him and more juices from his tight balls. Her tongue slid down the underside of his shaft to lick them lasciviously. Enoch breathed deep through his nose and let out a loud gasp; "Oh ... Jeeeesuuuussss!" His emission shot over her head and splashed across her clean floor in a copious explosion of passion, and Vera gaped with awe at the vivid demonstration of sexual prowess; another spurt sizzled past her face, close enough to rouse a long dormant desire. Her mouth gaped wider, taking the next spurt on her tongue, stimulating her taste buds with its salty smooth texture, slipping to the back of her throat and down into her stomach where its heat spread through her loins. She moaned with pleasure at the hot, clean taste of his cum and took him between her carefully applied lips, smudging his shaft in pink lipstick as she swallowed the flow, reaching her own climax when the head hit the back of her throat and spent the final drops in a spasm of relief. "That was nice, dear, but I really do need a carton of chocolate milk next week," she'd said, licking cum from her lips. That became part of their secret code; chocolate milk meant 'come round the back on Saturday morning' or, like this morning, 'One extra pint today - and double-cream!' meaning; 'come inside - Now!' Vera felt her mouth water at the prospect of getting more, now, and relaxed her throat to take him deeper with a convulsive gulp, swallowing a dribble of pre-cum with expectant relish. She only ever sucked him, never anything more; somehow, it didn't feel so much like cheating on her husband who, despite his shortcomings, did love her. Never in their twenty year marriage, or even since she'd met him three years prior to that at the age of nineteen, had any other man been privy to the secrets of her body - but then, no man had ever made her feel like this before: so wanton, desirable and fertile for his seed to sprout fresh passion in her heart. She wanted every inch of his lust and wondered if she could possibly manage it. The whole thing measured nine inches long and almost three inches thick, according to her dressmaker's tape-measure, and his balls were as big as the eggs her geese laid, though filled with far more protein. Her juices flowed at the thought of them cracking under the strain of containing the load that bubbled in their hairy sacs, and she added another finger to the sticky pair already deep inside her wet pussy, fantasising that he was plunging between her trembling thighs instead of her mouth. If Enoch had realised what she was thinking he would've obliged her but, truth be told, he enjoyed the way she worshipped his cock; on her knees, submissive and willing. He locked both hands behind her head and pulled her harder onto his shaft, almost halfway, before pulling her back to begin again, fucking her mouth faster until spittle frothed around her pouty lips. "Yeah, baby, suck that cock," he breathed, "take that big, black cock in your pretty white mouth." Vera gagged and drooled over him like a cheap whore, panting urgently through her nose, working her tongue over the sensitive glans. She winced as his fingers dug into her neck but welcomed the pain nonetheless; it enhanced her own pleasure and she aroused her self further by pressing the tip of her thumb onto her clitoris, dripping hot juices onto the polished hardwood floor. The look in her eyes and the smell of her lust combined with the fact that almost half his length jutted from her mouth like an obscene tongue, brought Enoch to the edge of orgasm and with a muffled groan he pulled out of her mouth, dripping spit and pre-cum over her bared breasts. Oh my God, Vera thought, watching his fist flash up and down the slippery shaft, 'he's going to' - "Do it," she said aloud, "cum all over me!" Her orgasm ripped through her soaking wet slit as the first splash of creamy cum hit her face. She whimpered, trying to stifle the scream of pleasure by jamming her free hand in her mouth while using the other like the dildo she kept secret in her sewing box, feeling her juices cascade over her wrist in a gush of ecstacy. Enoch did just as she wanted and aimed his cock at her face and tits, coating her liberally in lusty blasts of hot spunk. It dripped from her pert chin and firm nipples, and ran down her stomach to slide into her juicy slit where she squished it inside her with a gasp of pleasure. Some of it stuck to her hair where it twinkled in the early morning sunrise like lingering starlight only to fade in the afterglow of their passionate tryst. "Rub it in, baby," he grunted, feeling her hand squeeze another drop from his cock onto her tongue and taking him into her mouth one last time, sucking the dregs from his balls with a slavering joy. He then pointed to the floor where his spunk dripped into her puddle of cum; "you missed a bit." Vera got down on her hands and knees and licked it from her expensively tiled floor like a hungry (horny) dog (bitch), slobbering over every single sticky drop as though it were choice pate. She felt little shame over her degrading behaviour; only a craving for more. The rasping sound of his zipper closing up told her she'd have to wait for another delivery and, with a sigh of regret, she looked up in time to see the front door close behind him. Enoch whistled a merry tune and climbed back into his float without looking back, content with his start to the day. His friends and family couldn't understand why he moved to a tiny village in the middle of nowhere from the city and said he'd soon get bored in the country. How wrong they were! The first few months had been difficult and strange but as he'd settled into the routine of his new life, he'd never regretted leaving his old life behind. Why would he? The air here was cleaner, the grass greener and fewer people in the whole village than were in the tower block where he'd been brought up. After spending the first twenty seven years in the city, he was in no hurry at all to return after less than a year here. Besides, only pain and deceit remained in that concrete jungle; he preferred to think ahead. Today was rent-day, and that meant a visit from his landlord's voracious wife. A wide grin spread across his face; yes sir, life was good!