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Beth woke early and lay alone in bed for quite some time, fingering her pussy for pleasure. Then she washed her firm young body in the farmhouse yard, using a pitcher of water, yawning sleepily. She dried herself with a rough towel, enjoying its texture on her creamy skin. She stood in the sunlight for a while, caressing her heavy, pointed breasts, wishing she had a lover to take charge of them.
    Oh, a lover to suck on them! To handle them!
    All alone in the farmhouse kitchen, she put on a plain cotton dress. It was tight across her rump, and did little to conceal the swell of her tits or the firm studs of her nipples.
    She took the milking pail, and walked out across the pasture to find the cow in the barn. She straddled the three-leg stool and milked the cow, enjoying the squirt of the milk into the pail and the feel of the udder in her fingers. She imagined milking her own breasts like this, squeezing her superb nipples and letting the white stuff flow out.
    One day! Maybe in the future. For now, I haven’t even got a man. I never even had a man inside me yet. I want one though. I need something thick and strong between these legs of mine. If I don’t get it soon, I’m going to explode.
    ‘Good milking there, girl.’
    She jumped like hell. In the barn door, a man was leaning watching her at work. She blinked, trying to get a look at him. He was a stranger, like many who passed by the farm, and he looked big and strong. Dark suit, white shirt – and old-time snakeskin boots. She stood up to get a better view.
    Damn, he was good-looking. She looked into his blue eyes, aware that the only thing between his gaze and her voluptuous body was the thin cotton of her dress. The man touched his hat brim and smiled.
    ‘Didn’t intend to startle you, girl. But I’m a milking man myself, and I admire a good hand action.’
    ‘Oh, yeah?’ Beth wiped her hands on her dress. The action simply forced the fabric even tighter across her tits, and she knew that he could see their curve. She knew too that her nipples were stirring into wakefulness, and they would be brazenly visible. Sure enough, the man glanced at them carelessly, then looked back into her eyes.
    ‘Yes, a fine hand action,’ he said. ‘Now, would you care to see how I do it?’
    ‘Well, ok. The cow has more milk to give.’
    ‘Does she, now?’ His eyes moved over her body, and Beth could feel her nipples straining at the front of her dress. She blushed, but she was excited by being alone with this big, handsome man. ‘If a cow has milk to give, I’m the man to milk her.’
    ‘I’m sure you are,’ Beth said, putting her head on one side. Being alone on the farm, she had rare opportunities to flirt with men, and she wanted to make the most of this. ‘Go right ahead, stranger.’
    The man advanced towards her, and she handed him the stool. She stood watching him as he milked the cow, his big, powerful hands releasing the liquid expertly. He was damn good, she had to admit. She thought momentarily of those hands on her body, handling her needy flesh, and her heart thumped in her chest. Just then, he stood and faced her.
    ‘Cow’s all done,’ he said. ‘What did you think?’
    ‘You were ok.’
    ‘Just ok?’
    ‘Well, you were pretty good. I like the way you milk. It’s good and firm.’
    He smiled and looked at his hands. ‘I like to be good and firm with the udders. They respond to it.’
    ‘I’m sure they do, stranger.’ Beth was conscious of her own tits, heavy and excited under her dress. The man looked at them again, quite openly.
    ‘Cows aren’t the only thing I know how to milk,’ he said.
    ‘Yeah? What else?’
    ‘I can milk women.’
    She slapped his face, but he just smiled, and spoke calmly, looking down at her tits.
    ‘I could milk those beauties for you, girl.’
    She laughed.
    ‘I’m just nineteen years old and never even been pregnant. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have a man. No way could you ever get any milk from