Chapter 13: Learning the Milk House Rules

[A peek into the future as post first-fuck training commences and Lilly warns onlookers]

Early afternoon, before milking, I just waited, laid out on the loading dock in the sun trying to do something about my glaring white skin. I wanted to look dark like Lilly if I was going to have to bare my entire body and soul all summer. I wanted to look natural instead of like a beacon. I lay there and played with my long penis as the sun shown down and it was very happy standing proudly on its own casting a sizeable shadow.

Geez, what fun that was and I could really feel the sun’s energy coursing through my penis as if it was being paid extra attention to. It was an extrovert even if I was definitely the opposite.

I seriously wondered why it wasn’t sore from all the handling it was getting. But what was to wonder when I was being induced magically to have such a big one. I didn’t believe in magic, at least before, but I bet Lilly was keeping my penis soothed with her magic, ready, steady, always applying more of my gizem and other stuff.

I’d already gone into the milking parlor to take a shower under one of the hose nozzles. I was so gross with poop and grass, all sorts of things stuck to me but surprisingly I came totally clean, no scars or scratches. But I did have to pay attention to every crack and crevice after being forced to do such nasty things. I used a tooth brush.

I was told it was normally part of Lilly’s responsibility to clean the milk house, the room on the end of the parlor separated by a wall and a door. It had a very tall ceiling and was filled with stainless steel pipes. Maintaining this facility was a task of disassembling pipes and cleaning pipes out with hot water plus a disinfectant brushed.

It took a good portion of the day to accomplish the complete cleaning once a week and daily the shortened version might take close to two hours. Once I’d learned to do the job the routine became somewhat monotonous if I was alone but it was extremely important to keep the bacteria count low enough to make grade.

Milk grade meant everything because if the milk incoming at the bottling plant tested dirty a dairy could lose its A grade and be reduced to a cheese producer, a huge loss of revenue.

When the milk was sucked into the vacuum driven piping system from the cups placed on the cow’s teats it traveled through the wall separating the parlor from the milk house. It cascaded down through the piping to be released through a filter using a special paper product to remove debris. As I’d mentioned before, the milk was sometimes contaminated with poop because shit just happens, really, on a dairy.

In time I would see mastitis infection added to the milk and anything else that might get sucked-in that was part cow. That didn’t stop me from drinking raw cream rich milk, that is until its richness started causing me to break out in hives.

But once the milk had passed through the filter it dropped to a sump, was pumped up through pipes and transferred across overhead to spill down over refrigeration evaporator coils in the form of closely spaced horizontal pipes that were freezing cold. The creamy milk coursed down over and through the slight spacing between the pipes for thorough contact to make the milk frigid. A trough under the coils caught the milk and it was gravity transferred slightly downhill out to the tank truck.

Immediately outside the milk house in a covered parking area sat the big stainless tank truck used to haul the raw milk to a local bottling plant. A long arm of stainless pipe extended from within the milk house to, into- through the dome lid on the truck’s tank. After the filtered milk had run down the refrigerator evaporator piping, almost freeze cold it was transferred out into the insulated-cooled truck tank to wait for the daily delivery run. Everything was bug screened and kept fresh and sanitary. It seemed odd the milk house environment was exactly the opposite of the adjacent building where the bunk house resided, instead, the milk house was supposed to be sanitary. Such a contrast.

[Be on time for Fucking school and have your penis on hand because the teacher is a goddess with limited patience]

I was to be taught by Lilly the chore of milk house cleaning. Her company I was gladly learning to keep as much as possible for obvious reasons. For reassurance I was anticipating something extra fun because she’d hinted numerous times we were going to be doing something sexual entirely new for me, learning how to fuck. I was nervous but I wanted to know. I hoped it didn’t like hurt or something. I toyed with the idea of asking the wife do it to me even if it was dangerous to do so in the kitchen. But at the moment I needed to pay attention to Lilly and learn my chores.

Lilly arrived on the loading dock, came and laid right on top of me as I sun bathed. No need to ask, her legs straddling as she played with me and kissed me all over. She’d already removed her clothes with a flick as quick as a flash. She, naked, pleased me, her new naive boy toy feeling softness all over.

“You’re blocking my sun”, I teased. “Don’t want those tan lines.” I told her I was working on her kind of skin color. I could only hope. “I wonder what a person would think if they drove in and saw nude sun bathing on the loading dock”. “What’s to wonder?”, she responded, shrugging her shoulders. “The sun’s out.”

I loved the comfort she had with her self image; kind of made me jealous. How lucky to have the gift of complete self respect. But I couldn’t help but wonder about people seeing us, me with my erection between her legs, pressed up against her butt crack as it spit goo.

That was fun!

Now that I had a STIFF one she signaled for me to come along with her as she towed me around the dock, behind the tank truck, into the milk house. It reminded me of the girl who glommed on to me in first grade but she didn’t pull me around by my penis and I wondered what would have happened if she had. Of course mind reading Lilly gave me a look for that. Then I remembered what a nasty little mind I had when I was young, thoughts I almost never let be known except on occasion which really got me in trouble. “Believe me. You’re not in trouble now,” Lilly said. “And it’s a good thing you didn’t try what we are about to do next. You would have been in amazing trouble but now? Oh YEAH. You’re going to do it now. It’s the reason you are here.”

Lilly laughed.

[About to be launched on my way to being a breeding 2 legged sire livestock] [Once fucked, learned how to, my training took off - and here Lilly takes me to town to get me used to being exposed to the public. “Not parking officer but rather just fuck training my livestock here, just about to ejaculate him again and then we’ll move on”]

In the milk house she was uncharacteristically serious in teaching me the order of pipes, how to clean them, what went where in the room, about changing the filters and how the hanging evaporator cooler had to be serviced. She had me standing in the middle of the milk house looking up high while she identified everything in view using my erection to steer me. I got the sense that this was a responsibility not to be taken lightly because she repeatedly pointed out that the dairy’s existence depended on good clean and thorough work.

We started to set up ladders and get the cleaning equipment arranged. “Okay now... , “ she moved about pointing out different features and all the while brushing up against me and managing to slide a hand over my sensitive spots, arousing me with tantalizing teasing. “You do understand,” she repeated while squeezing my balls and staring close focus into my eyes for emphasis.

Apparently the serious lessons were changing focus, the pointing fingers managing to slip into my anus as I bent over for a pipe and was held tight with a grip.

I would pretend to be confused, “R-e-a-l-l-y?,” questioning her teaching methods as I tried to wipe my erection on her. “Yes, really. Here, I’ll help you.” She pointed for me to get up on the ladder. As I climbed she groped me good while explaining what she wanted in perfectly calm tones, very serious, but causing me to stay aroused. “I’m having trouble keeping focused,” I said, “ ... and my erection is in the way,” being silly with a lilt in my voice. “Never mind. I have a place for that thing to keep it safe and out of harms way.” And she having said that started to get me really excited that maybe I was going to also learn what a fuck was.

I loved the fact that Lilly liked teasing and she like me kidding her back. I grew up with a grandpa who loved a practical joke so Lilly made me feel more at home.

But she really reinforced the importance of proper cleaning as if it was a life and death matter. “The life of the dairy depends on this work. Don’t ever skip steps to finish early. This is disease control, not forgiving if you get lazy.” It wasn’t until we’d gone through each necessary step thoroughly that the mood finally lightened up, re purposed.

In a changed mood she relaxed, smiled, moved forward and placed her hands on my chest. Slowly, feeling, descending, she put both hands on my penis as we stood in the very center of the milk house and she warmed up to me. “What?” I noted a change in her eyes as she instructed,

“We have to sanitize you before we start cleaning.” I was nothing but skin and would have assumed myself all ready for the work. It seemed I was already revisiting my initiation? And, yes, acting out my role as livestock. “Bernice and the wife already cleaned me very thoroughly at the kitchen, v- e-r-y thoroughly.” I teased back, laughing. “You should have been there. I told them I was going to “fuck” them but I don’t yet know what a Fuck is. They thought that was pretty funny.” Lilly poked to make me flinch. “Oh, you think that’s so funny huh? Do you want to find out lover boy?”

“Learn what? I thought that my initiation was over.” “This isn’t initiation Pal. This is getting you adjusted to cleaning the milk house. And you made the choice to stay naked but don’t assume that you are clean. I want you REALLY clean for the next step and you’ll have to get used to sanitizing me too. What have you got to lose?” “Maybe just my virginity?,” I asked with a big question mark kind of smile.

In theory I figured that I knew what she was aiming to do to me -- in theory. I’d heard her leave enough hints in conversation and I made that statement with a smart ass flare covering up my growing nervousness as my parochial vanguards kicked in to protect me from ... what? I wondered just how losing one’s virginity was actually managed.

I didn’t really know what a “Virginity” was. I remembered high school talk about popping somebody’s cherry. I had no idea what that was but I wondered if it hurt. I took a really deep breath, held it and started worrying.

“Fucking” sounded so compelling but what sort of leap would it require? I was afraid to try something so new and so exotic and ALWAYS forbidden before marriage as if alarms would go off if you tried it.

“Okay Mr. Innocent. Pretty soon you might lose that cherry virginity but for the moment...” Lilly got a big sponge and a bucket, squatted down and filled it with warm water frequently looking up to catch my gaze. The water came from the same source that we used to wash cow teats. I watched as she mesmerized me with her very methodical manner of movements, eyes twinkling at me. She’d hooked up a long thinner rubber hose like surgical tubing ready-attached to parlor warm water. I just went along with her in this operation frankly hoping that it wouldn’t take too long before finding out what losing my virginity was all about. I was getting both impatient and scared in anticipation as she stretched that hose, let it snap back and gave me a funny look, I, hoping not to experience any pain.

She tossed the hose over my shoulder and then put some of that shampoo-soap like substance into the bucket that seemed really kind of extra thick and slimy, even snotty, a lot of bubbles fizzing, maybe thicker than my gizem. Then she started applying that to me. “Stand still.”

She put gobs of it on me, shoulders, working down, a hand full on my penis as she went about doing other parts of me. Then pulling on it over and over as the slimy soap dangled away snotty below, swinging globs, hitting the spring water flowing on the floor, it had lumps in it and I felt pretty silly being slimed up for reasons I didn’t understand.

But I wasn’t going to complain because she felt so good. I remembered getting treatment like this in the parlor before the son showed up and I loved those bubbles popping especially inside my anus.

She held the bucket up and told me, “Hold this up just under your penis while I soak you.” I held it with my two hands spread apart on the handle to leave room for her work as I stuck my stuff through. I leaned back to stick me all the way out and watched.

She stretched my penis and began applying more slimy bubbles up from the bucket. That was fine. She stroked. More, again and again, slowly, then methodically on the tip, she tickled the hole in the end, everything as it got hard and harder and hardest. “That really makes my penis feel weird Lilly.” She smiled a wink of approval into my wondering eyes as I inhaled deeper and shivered with chills. Then she reached under to wash the rest of my scrotum for a bit, seemed unusually long moments reaching down into the bubbles surrounding my balls.

She held that slime up simultaneously stretching my erection with lots more goo, always an inordinate amount. I sighed, “O-o-o-o-h,” a trailing away “Mmmmmmmm,” compelled to let loose some of the fever building energy as utterances and ejaculations. “My legs are getting weak Lilly. Am I sanitary y-e-t?”

By now the ejaculations resulting had filled the bucket noisily over flowing.

The bubbles in the soap fizzed and popped and tickled as they slowly ran down the front of me. I had a hard time keeping attentive to my bucket holding with all the distraction. I finally had to reach up and put one hand on the back of my head and keep leaning to get plenty of air.

Aside from the mesmerizing handling Lilly was providing me, those bubbles were adding to the overall thrill of her gentle hands and I started to ejaculate again. Again, again and again my penis spurted and this time it felt far more stimulating than the last. I just tingled inside and out. I even felt it in my teeth as it tickled my anus extraordinary.

She lowered the bucket a bit to make better room for my lengthing penis, down deeper, to capture more gizem. She told me to “Use both hands.” She ran very warm water with the hose over my mid section for a long time. I was very soothed and could have kept that up, okay by me, but then the command came, “Turn around and bend over.” I was hesitant, looked at her composure but of course I assumed what that was about. I was still ejaculating as I turned and that made me feel light headed as I bent. It was anus probing time again. “O-K,” I sighed.

She moved around in line and gave me a shove; she was in charge. I bent low while she pushed me down further and ran that sponge with goo up and down my backside making sure to get my bum good and cleaned. She applied much more gooey slimy soap and used her fingers to slowly rub up and down continuing to massage my balls. She stopped on the upstroke.

“I’m going to put my hose up inside you now,” she said. This is the part of sanitizing that nobody else has done, not that you know of. You’re going to like it; trust me.”

I felt her pull at my butt cheek to make room for her work, maybe fingers playing at my anus and then an amazing warmth entered through, a tickle, familiar entry and pressure but different than fingers and a hand.

Simultaneously she reached through squeezing on my balls as if she was pumping them like bulbs, not hurting but loads more gizem came out of me, more than I ever thought my penis could produce. I think my hair stood on end and I was on my toes in surprise, almost fell over in the rush of a very strange yet wonderful feeling. “OOOOooooh!”

Her fingers entered more as well and twisted, turning in my anus as some kind of energy was swelling inside me. I was shocked how she would stick that hose up my butt and then add her hand as well. Perhaps it would explain the increased amounts of ejaculating, suddenly, shocking, steady.

I was somewhat blinded by the sense of energy steadily leaving me as an enduring ejaculation. “That’s fucking awesome!”

Easily it made me less aware of what was going was going on with my anus. I wondered if the hose was causing the duration by feeding the process more fluid to a system.

She’d leaned over and pulled on the warm water rubber hose hanging around my neck making slack to insert more length up my butt. It ran only a small amount of water, dribbling, so she turned it on more. She stood me up.

I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing behind but only noted the warmth that built inside my mid section as the moving hose tickle-affected my anus. I sensed something else inserted, maybe more fingers?. It was a bit alarming, didn’t hurt but rather warmed my insides including the strange midsection paralysis.

The oddness of experiencing what seemed to be somehow filling me reminded me of my childhood and my dad’s obsession with enemas. Lilly started to stroke my penis rapidly and that focus caught my attention away from anything else, as energy, maybe the same, was rising from my balls to the tip of my penis. That felt wonderful but in a new different sensational way as the continuous gizem kept pouring out.

My voice jiggled as I moaned loudly and energy, I assumed water, rose and rose as if I was literally filling up.

Something was moving inside me, moving even further up inside. I kept my words to a minimum, mere groaning paying attention to Lilly’s unseen by me work as the noted hose was gradually moving up from the floor.

The energy she was probably responsible for grew into other portions of me making the rising feeling indescribable. I couldn’t pinpoint her method but she was busy in my butt crack as I noted the hose kept rising, more, more and more from the floor and my anus tickled with that energy as some probably leaked out.

It was really hard to stay focused on either my ejaculating penis or my anus which I couldn’t see anyway. The performance was astonishing, energy rising to an absolute rush. Would my penis literally become a fire hose?

As kids we three all hated, anticipating his inquiry, my dad’s demands about bowel movements. If we were at home sick, questioned as to whether we’d had bowel movement, and answered “no” it meant that we were going to get an enema! We hated that!

In our religious household there were allowed no foul words, “nasty” references and lying wasn’t tolerated either. But I’d go through a lot of hesitation in answering if I’d not gone poop hoping for some kind of reprieve by stalling. I didn’t want to get an enema, NO! I hated that thing going up my butt, getting naked, the vaseline, the butt plug, the entire embarrassment and having a poop emergency, being watched as I took a crap.

I never pooped every day. Why should I do it when I was sick? But I loved skipping school. Everything about being sick was just great except the possible enema and it seemed I always forgot about it throughout the day until it was too late.

My problem was I usually had a lot of fun laying in bed playing with toy trucks and I’d forget about the inquisition of questions coming when the old man arrived home after a hard day at work. I could lose time in my imagination playing by myself and you’d think he would forget about that damned thing once in a while. But no.

First thing in the door after parking the car in the garage, fix himself a drink, a High Ball. Then the inquisition started with lighting a cigarette and taking the edge off the frustration of the day’s work by getting a little buzz on. What a concept. Park the car in the garage, come in and kiss the wife, fix a stiff drink, light up a smoke, loosen up and ask the big question before sticking a hose up one of the kid’s asses. That’s what I would call really living.

“But honest, I feel okay dad”. “What?” asked Lilly. “Oh, sorry, you’re making me feel funny and I’m remembering being a kid with a hose in my butt.” “I know,” said Lilly. “I hear you thinking.”

“We kids knew the drill, having experienced the enema routine since early childhood. Dad was an enema junky. If we were going to get it we’d go in the bathroom told to get completely naked and lay on the cold tile floor, the freezing tile floor. The old man would come in with his rubber hot water bottle that included the tubing and paraphernalia. He would put something in with the water as he filled the rubber gland and then screw in the tubing apparatus. Out would come the Vaseline jar for the butt plug on the end of the hose that went in your butt.

It was awful waiting as he ran threw this prescribed procedure, his own contrivance, as you lay there naked. He would hold up the enema bottle with one hand and tell us to “put your knees up in the air and spread em”. Guiding the butt plug end down, with Vaseline smeared, he would stick the enema in your butt and release the water flow with the metal stop clip on the tubing. He’d stand up and hold the bottle high. Gravity was his friend.

In would go the liquid, flowing by its own weight and beginning the bloating process as the water entered via gravity pressure. In moments you’d begin to feel like you had to poop like crazy. The cold of the tile floor became insignificant and all you were focused on before, including the embarrassment of being naked, all gone with a building poop emergency.

Embarrassment, not over yet, you would get up while trying hard to not to poop on the floor and hurriedly get over to the toilet where you could let go of all your inhibitions as the relief became reality. No need for congratulations, the sense of letting all go where it belonged was reward enough.

The enemas stopped when we were teenagers. I don’t know why but I wasn’t going to complain. The old enema bottle remained on its hook in the bathroom for years and you’d get to look at it if you were sitting on the john. Memories, and it was all about poop. What was weird was the enema hung on a nail alongside an old violin. And there they remained untouched.

I always felt sorry for my older sisters who also had to endure that damned thing. I couldn’t imagine being a preteen girl having to get all naked on the floor while the old man stuck the butt plug in. That must have been kind of perverted.”

“Poop,” Lilly muttered. “Imagine that?”

Suddenly there was a funny feeling in me. Felt like maybe a vacuum inside my innards. The hose Lilly was working with dropped to the floor, still running. It came out.

I hadn’t seen any enema bottle hanging in the milk house. Of course I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing but I had my suspicions. There was also her weird magic that kept dull my being able to feel everything that went on. The feeling of pressure rising inside me had stopped but not before I almost choked with odd pressure in my throat. There was quite a coil of that hose now laying below me and that point of pressure rising from my balls to my penis was really acute. It felt just a little like something might have been traveling out through my penis and it was excruciating- arousing but hurting. It wasn’t the same as ejaculation either or it was just way more intense.

I got a strange recollection of a nun doing what my dad did to me while in school in front of class and I don’t know where that came from. But I remember a nun who used to get after me in class even though I was such a quiet shy kid. She would call me out while the class was quiet, reading, telling me I was going to get in trouble, how she was going to make me stay after if I didn’t shape up. I wasn’t doing anything but thinking evil thoughts about her and she started it.

She threatened to keep me after school for something remedial. She really scared me and I began sneaking around so she wouldn’t notice me. I had this idea she was going to do something nasty to me if we were alone. Why would I think thoughts like that? A nun giving me an enema in front of class? Or maybe something like that in a back room, our of sight. My crazy creativity probably would have me getting it in front of the class with no clothes on. Yeah, a nun with a jar of Vaseline and an oversized enema butt plug as the class cheered her on.

That caused to remember how those nuns smelled and in the summer heat it was just like vegetable soup.

I wondered if Lilly was giving me strange ideas. I wondered if she had been tutoring my mind long before we met. Did that nun actually get me alone and do something to me? Was my memory erased? And why? They were preparing me, maybe I had already been fucked, whatever that was.

Lilly had quickly managed her hand in my butt crack and grabbed my penis again with her other hand. “Sanitizing”. What in the world was she up to?

Her work felt even more weird than normal and my erection did alarming tricks as she manipulated her hand up my butt with undue pressure inside. She pulled back on my shoulder rather sharply to bend me back at the middle and twisted her magic different ways holding positions for moments while it felt like, only slightly, moving somehow inside me.

My erection got ever so much harder and actually was moving around in front too, even slapping against my stomach crazily, making noise, a tremendous pulling sensation that didn’t hurt for some odd reason but was still frightening.

She’d made my penis do crazy things before but this was exaggerated and I assumed the pressure inside me was making a difference. Most astonishing was how long my penis grew as if the pressure glowing inside was adding to its length and girth like a water balloon being filled. I wondered if I was dreaming.

“Oh ... Lilly, that is absolutely bizarre! It’s undulating.” She pulled her hand out of my butt crack and I felt some gush of pressure released. “Okay, stand up straight.” I straightened up and lots more pressure let go, a whole bunch with a loud gush. It again reminded me of the enema but so much more volume that it made me dizzy and my anus sizzled with a lot of friction.

I turned toward her and looked for poop on the floor as she immediately applied much more goo to my crotch. I studied the floor some more to see if I could understand what that pressure was all about. She gave me a look, socked me in the stomach and more pressure let go. Wouldn’t you know it, surprise, I never lost my hyper lengthened erection. It stayed lengthened, permanent, even after the water had rushed out of my ass.

I worried that it was going to become constantly stiff, that maybe it was her goal, to have me her perpetual boner, her handy permanent grab towing handle and towel bar.

I didn’t want to complain to her but was compelled to finally ask, “Lilly, you keep working your hands up inside through my anus.” “Yeah,” she said. “Well ... I was just wondering.” “Wondering what?” It seemed like a good time to ask and it seemed rather odd she was increasing the use, doing that more often, although she had tried to explain the purpose a little bit before. I was wondering about that odd feeling of something manipulating at the back side of my penis, somehow inside me now with lots of water.