Five minutes later you emerged, eliciting a gasp from Keira.
"fuck it" you had thought, "I want the proper experience!"
You emerged from the changeroom wearing just a cowprint bikini. Keira, for the first time you'd ever seen since you'd known her, looked shocked. Your began to feel a needy tingling and could feel your nethers slickening.
Your breasts - heavy with milk because Keira had brought you out here before your scheduled pumping time - stood at attention. Already small damp patches appeared on the thin fabric of the cowprint bikini. It was bad enough that your nipples were standing at attention and visibly poking out, but now the dampness from your nipples had turned the bikini almost completely sheer around your areolae.
Moving to the front of the barn you felt the mid afternoon sun and a slight breeze play on your skin, the feeling heightened by your fluttering anticipation. From behind your back you produced a cow bell collar from the changeroom and presented it to Keira. Obviously floored once again, she stood still for a second. You loved seeing her like this. She took a moment and then carefully brushed your long brown hair aside to lock the collar around your neck. Falling into place, the bell produced a dull 'tock' as well as a high little jingle. Slowly, you bent over, bringing your knees to the ground and your hands to the soft grass in front of you. You dug your hands into the soft grass, sinking your hands in and letting it slide in between your fingers. On all fours in this outfit it was obvious that you were a milk cow for the herd.
Entering the barn's large open door you felt soft straw between your fingers. Unsupported, your milk-laden breasts hung below you, jiggling slightly with each step. Each shuffle forward caused your bell to toll slightly. Stalls lined both sides, some open with milking equipment inside in pieces, some closed and impossible to see inside from your lowered vantage. Aaron - visibly impressed by your theatrics - lead on to an open stall on the far end. Keira walked in pace with your crawling keeping a few steps ahead, guiding you. Sunlight streamed in from the high windows and the whole barn felt magically cozy. As you approached the stall you could hear soft moos floating on the air.
Entering the stall you saw a chrome machine that you recognized as a goat milker. Keira followed, closing the wooden slatted stall door after you. The stall smelled wonderful and the combined ambience of the barn lulled your fears and self consciousness. The stall was fairly large and square. A thin, soft layer of sawdust and straw covered the floor which got thicker and coarser towards the edges where a small rectangular bail of hay rested, along with a wooden block and tin pail.
Aaron simply asked: 'may I milk you?' You vigorously nodded. He untied your cowprint top, allowing it to fall to the floor. His weathered hands rubbed oil into your hanging breasts. Already droplets of milk formed at your nipple. He attached the suction cups. Already in your mind you were screaming to be milked. A switch clicked. Sweet suction!
Your mind blanked of everything else in that moment, focusing only on the pressure and pleasure, the heat flowing out and the feeling of waves of lust seemingly directly rushing from your worked nipples to your vagina. First came droplets which fell after a few determined tugs from the machine. Then came small drops. You could feel the heat rising in your breasts. You could feel the warmth flowing over your whole chest and ducts deep inside opening to let down their white bounty. The drops gradually became heavier and more defined, giving way to streams. Hot white milk began to spurt out with each and every rhythmic hum of the milker, each pull more satisfying than the last. You let out a loud moo. You didn't really mean to - it just felt like the right thing to do. Had you done it wrong? It sounded stilted somewhat. Suddenly you felt an irrational panic overtaking you and pulling you away from the bliss of milking. You were being self-conscious again. Keira piped up "don't try to moo loudly, like you're copying a cow. Let your natural moans become 'mmm's or 'mo's. The longer ones will take care of themselves for perfect moos'. Just something else I learnt" she said, quickly making contact with Aaron with a wry smile.
You gave it a go, feeling relief - yes, she was right! Your mind settled back into the rhythm, your placid, low mooing mixing with the sounds of the machine's tugs. This was it. You were the cow you'd always wanted to be. You wanted to stay in this stall to be milked forever. Your mind entranced by the click-clack of the machine. Each tug brought you closer to a pounding crescendo. Soon you couldn't take it any more, your sensitive breasts fed your hungry clit with electric bolts with every demanding tug from the milker.
Aaron removed the milkers, finished with their task as orgasm after orgasm wracked through your body. Losing control of your muscles, you took a wobbly half step before crumpling to the side. Keira's soft hands and Aaron's strong arms were there to catch you. Your matted brown fringe stuck to your sweat glistened forehead, and small beads ran down the center valley of your back. In your reverie you could only look up and give a soft, plaintive moo. You hoped to return as much as possible to this wonderful oasis. All of your stress from college had simply melted away.
Keira hefted the bottle of milk containing easily double you had ever managed milking alone. "I think it's time to introduce her to the herd."
