Sir Fairfax rides up to the small farm cottage on the outskirts of his vast estate, to see to his business with the farmer. Perhaps more specifically, to see to his business with the farmer’s milkmaids. There are four of them in all, all very buxom and fully figured, with creamy complexions and pale gazes.
He enters the dairy where the cows are milked, to find only one girl at work. Jane is her name, and although she is but one and twenty, her talented fingers command a fine milking of the cows, and makes the soupy liquid pour out gratuitously into the waiting bucket. She sees Sir Fairfax and bids him good morning, with a pearly glint in her eye. He inquires of the whereabouts of the other maids.
“I know not, sir, but ‘ere’s Rebecca come to relive me of my work,” she replies. He turns to see Rebecca has entered the dairy behind him, and she walks over, inspecting the cows as she does so. She runs a pink finger through the pails and amasses a small, velvety amount of creamy milk upon it, and licks it clean.
“Good morning, sir,” she says, slowly and clearly. Though not the most educated of the girls, she is the most well-spoken, and the youngest, at only nineteen years of age. Her fluid words roll off her pink tongue with ease and experience. “Is there anything we can do for you, to-day?”
The frilly frocks the maids wear are wholly unsuitable for their occupation, and they often spill milk on them as result of them getting in the way. Tess enters next, an unscrupulous, messy girl. She is also the greediest, and is the plumpest of all of them, her full face and heaving bosom fuelled by drinking almost as much milk as she gets from the cows. Carrying a pail of milk, she is surprised by Sir Fairfax’s presence and wobbles her pail, splashing soupy lumps of creaminess on her frock, a few more which gloss over her cleavage, and a few other drops which splash her face.
“Oh, Sir Fairfax,” she says, “for what good reason have you come on such a day?”
“For the same reason I always come on Wednesdays,” he says; “to give you my milk.”
“We shan’t have it to-day,” says Sarah, who had come in through the footman’s entrance; “we already have more than enough to go round.” She is the prettiest of all of them, her fine flaxen hair tied back to show her beautiful, and luscious, and milky white face and soft red lips.
“Oh, come, come,” says Sir Fairfax, “even if you already have enough milk to fill your stomachs from the cows, you always enjoy my special fluid. Jane uses her long fingers to gently squeeze it out of me, whilst Rebecca uses her excellent tongue to urge it on; then Tess squeezes her silky bosom around, milking me with her titties and cackling greedy words; finally, Sarah smiles wickedly with her beautiful lips and acts as an excellent target for my wayward member, and the creamy liquid splashes over her, much to everyone’s delight; then greedy Tess will lick it all up and swallow it down.” They say nothing.
“Do not you like my milk?” asks Sir Fairfax.
“Oh no, sir,” gobbles Tess, wiping the thick white creaminess from her cheek with her index finger and licking it clean, “we love it an awful lot.”
