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MOUNTAIN DADDY’S MILK &
HONEYMOON
ELENA DAWNE
Copyright © 2023 by ELENA DAWNE

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by fucking legend: Sotia the Awesome.
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue

Also by Elena Dawne

About the Author
Elena wants to kick book pirates in the balls…
 WARNING!

If you’re afraid to get wet, then this book is not for you. The content is written to excite and delight.

This is a work of FICTION.

That means I made it all up for the sake of glorious smut — so if you think you recognize some person
or place in this book, you either have some spicy-ass friends or an extremely active fantasy life.
I applaud you!

This book is also intended for ADULTS.

If that’s not you, Sweet Pea, then I love your moxie, but close the book and come back once you’ve
turned eighteen. X
 CHAPTER ONE

I loveThey
the mornings when I’m awake first.
happen so rarely, that a little sense of magic lingers in the air, making it feel even more
wonderful to be cozied-up with a big, warm mountain man.
There’s farm work to do, and we have our first-ever invited guests coming later, but I’ll be tended
to first. Ben’s substantial morning wood is already deliciously firm against my stomach.
I keep an appreciative eye on the hairy, oversized bundle of naked man sleeping next to me and try
my best not to wake him, as I carefully ease myself higher in our bed. Only once I’ve moved into the
perfect position do I allow myself to imagine how good it’s going to feel when my mountain daddy
wakes up, and I’m so ready for it. My breasts are full and achy with his morning feed, and the thought
of his eager suckling encourages a thin milky bead to form at one nipple.
The giddy sensation grows inside me as it always does before a milking session. No matter how
many times we do it, the sheer anticipation of Ben’s rough, silver-streaked beard bristling against my
breasts as he hungrily takes his feed gets my pussy dripping with excitement before we even start. He
never seems to get enough of me, and just thinking about his hot, thirsty mouth on my swollen breasts
makes me feel like his special girl. Every day, he makes it clear that I’m who he craves, and being
Ben’s special girl comes with amazing benefits.
I lean forward and brush my nipple against his lips, teasing his sleepy senses, when normally I’d
be the one waking to his playful behavior.
Ben smiles dreamily but remains blissfully asleep.
I lean even closer and guide my breast to his mouth again, parting his lips with my nipple and
slipping it just inside. Not pushing further or doing anything that might startle him, I simply rest my
nipple between his warm lips and think of all the wonderful things he’s going to do with my body
when he wakes. His tender touches make me feel so loved, and I’m addicted to the way his huge cock
pushes inside and fills me to bursting. It’s the best feeling ever when combined with the sharp,
demanding tugs he’ll give at my breast.
The letdown hits me with a rush, and milk dribbles into his mouth. It drips from his relaxed lips to
his beard, and then onto the pillow beneath him, before he begins to stir.
He presses his lips together around my nipple as he swallows, and as he suckles gently in his
sleep, his thick, meaty cock strains against my thigh. We’ve been doing this long enough for his body
to automatically associate the taste of my milk with sexual pleasure.
I know the exact moment awareness hits him.
The suction at my teat strengthens, and he drives his hips forward, thrusting his cock into my ready
palm. Ben snags my ass in a fierce grip with his huge, calloused hand, and his eyelids fly open. His
rich, brown eyes focus on me, and it’s as if I’m all there is to see.
Before my next breath, Ben pulls off my breast and takes control of my innocent little tease.
I’m rolled and pinned on my back with my wrists held against the mattress over my head, and he
looks me over with a warm and interested gaze that holds absolute approval. “Mmm… Good
morning, sweet girl.”
Without pausing for further civilities, he lowers his bearded face to my fullest breast and latches
on with a thirst that drives me wild with the need to sate it.
He pulls at me with his hot, powerful mouth, as if he intends to take everything I have.
The intensity forces a moan of pure pleasure from my pursed lips. “Daddy.”
Ben’s fat cock strains against my thigh at the pet name that reminds us both how much younger I
am than him, the care he takes with me, and the stepfather-like role he once held in my life, before
Mom lost her fucking mind and threw away the best damned life we ever had.
No matter. I grew up and found him again as a woman ready for a specific lifestyle, and while
Ben took some convincing to see me as grown and fuckable, he came around to giving me what I
wanted. It may have been inevitable — the daddy-and-his-special-girl dynamic pricks at the naughty
urges within us and stirs them into a need too overwhelming to contain.
With the fuse ignited, there’s only one direction our arousal is headed, and while I can never get
there soon enough, Ben prefers to draw out my pleasure. He likes things done a certain way, and I
will be the first to admit that, despite my impatience, his methods always leave me panting with
desire and ready and willing for anything he wants to do to me.
I’m in love with the look on his face when he’s enjoying me, and I’ll never complain about that
sexy smile lingering on his lips. Ben’s taught me that the harder a reward is to earn, the sweeter it can
be. Delayed orgasms are almost torture, but they’re also deeply satisfying when they’re delivered.
Some things are worth the wait, so I don’t complain when he takes his time appreciating my rounded
breasts, hips, and ass.
I adore the way he enjoys my feminine shape. He’s the reason for it — the one who helped my
body blossom and develop over the last year. He invested time and energy into nurturing me, as he
does any living creature under his care — with attention, love, and extra feed. I came to him a skinny
girl, but I’m a fully fledged and filled-out woman now. His woman.
His suction at my breast eases and not ready for him to stop, I thrust my chest thrusts upward. It’s
too soon for him to be done, and I whimper and strain against his hold that has me pinned. I love
being milked, and I never make a secret of wanting more. “Please, Daddy.”
Ben smiles down at me, a knowing look in his eyes. He knows what I want. What I need.
He thrusts my legs apart, to make room for himself and wastes no time pushing his massive cock
inside me. I gasp at the sudden fullness and shift against the intense stretch, angling my pelvis to
receive him more deeply. His heavy balls press flush against my ass, and his satisfied grunt at my
ability to accommodate him puts a proud smile on my lips.
My mountain daddy’s learned all there is to know about my body. I came to him a virgin, but he’s
broken me in so thoroughly, I could take him anytime, anywhere. Being milked several times a day
leaves me constantly primed for his cock.
Ben glides in and out of my slick heat, slowly at first, and then fast enough for us to hear how wet
he’s made me. We’ve both come to love that sound and the wantonness it inspires within me.
“Mmm. That’s my girl,” Ben rumbles as he forces an appreciative moan from my lips and more
slurpy wet noise from my pussy. “Take this big cock.” He grabs my hips and lifts as he drives into me,
so I’ll feel every thick inch of him.
 Fucking into me hard and fast, Ben sets my full breasts jiggling and rolling in a feast for his hungry
gaze that seems to spur him on like nothing else. His cock thickens and jerks inside me, and his thrusts
get more savage and frenzied. They’re the actions of a man consumed, and proof that he loves this as
much as I do — loves what I do to him.
My breath is getting harder to catch, and my heart pounds, as I rise to meet him as best I can.
Trapped where he wants me, I do everything in my power to please him. I bring him deep, to hit my
womb with the kind of impact we both enjoy, and his grunted praise sends a flutter of joy through my
chest.
Sometimes, he tries to hide how much I affect him, but I devour the tightness of his jaw and every
twitch in his big muscles with my gaze, as he visibly unravels at the feel and sight of me.
I’m his. All laid out, for him to use. Every curve and hole I have is for him, and he knows it. This
man is my hero, and I trust him completely. He takes such good care of me in every possible way, and
he’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Ben ducks his head, clamps his mouth onto my breast, and sucks my nipple hard and deep as he
fucks me. I arch into him, as pleasure shoots through me, and I meet his pumping cock with a new
desperation.
The stretch intensifies. My inner walls are drawing tight around him, making him feel even bigger
inside me, and as he pulls the milk from my breast, I begin to tremble with every overwhelming
sensation.
Fluent in the language of my body, Ben reads every breath and tremor and hoists my ass higher. He
brushes his fingers past my tightest hole with intent, and I whimper as everything inside me tightens
even further. “Daddy.”
A loud pounding breaks through my pleasure haze, and I stiffen, but Ben doesn’t skip a beat. He
keeps sucking my tits and pumping his massive cock in and out of my juicy hole like a man possessed.
I trust his instincts. It’s probably not the front door but something out in the yard — the house cow
impatiently kicking a milk bucket, maybe. If Ben believes she can wait for me to come before he tends
to her, who am I to argue?
When the sound comes again, louder, I’m almost certain it’s a knock at the door. Ben still doesn’t
falter.
“Ben?” I crane my neck to hear better. “Are your friends here already? Early for the hunt? Should
I get the door?”
“No,” he growls, lifting his head from my breast. “You should come on my cock while they wait
on the porch.”
I nod, because that’s what I want, but the interruption has thrown me. Riddled with tension instead
of pleasure, my body struggles to follow orders.
Ben pumps into me a few more times, and then gives an irritable grunt. “Maggie, baby, I’m not
sacrificing your pleasure because those assholes can’t read a clock. You’re going to come. We’re not
leaving this bed until your tight little cunt is squeezing the cum from Daddy’s cock.”
“But—”
He shakes his head and grinds into me, until I’m crammed full and my clit is throbbing with
potential. “You’re number one,” he says. “They can wait. Understood?”
He does the grinding maneuver again, and I lose my train of thought. Every lost sensation is back
on the table, luring my weak, needy flesh back into a growing spiral of sensation. I rock into him
uncontrollably, and Ben hums softly and smiles.
“Better,” he whispers, as I move my hips in time with his. His hand grips my ass, and one of his
big fingers circles my asshole again. “You’re going to come hard for Daddy, aren’t you?”
Pressing my lips together, I squirm against his finger and nod.
“Good girl. Make it loud, and they’ll know why we’re not out there, welcoming them.” Ben grins
at my wide eyes, then lowers his face next to my ear. “Make a lot of fucking noise, baby girl. Show
them what Daddy does to you.” His voice is husky with need, and it sends a ripple of early twitches
through my core. He grazes his teeth along my breast and then flicks his tongue over my nipple. “Make
sure they know you’re mine, Maggie.”
An excited little shiver runs through me as I smile.
I’ve never once thought about letting another man fuck me, but any glimpse of Ben’s possessive
streak sends the blood rushing through my veins.
Is he worried his friends will look at me and want me? He thinks I’m that pretty?
Is he wanting to make them jealous? Make them feel they’re missing out on something special
because they’re not fucking me? Make himself seem like the luckiest of them? Is Ben truly so proud to
have me as his woman?
My pussy quivers around his cock, and I hitch my leg higher on his side, to open myself for more.
If he wants his friends to know I’m his special girl, then everyone should hear the claim he’s staking.
Someone pounds on the door again. They call his name — and so do I.
“Daddy Ben,” I cry out, and his big finger pushes into my ass, stretching and stroking my sensitive
flesh until I can hardly breathe.
His eyes are wild with excitement, and I thinks it’s because of my response to sharing our fuck
with his friends. Whatever it is, his enthusiasm is infectious.
It’s as if I’m Ben’s shiny fuck-toy that everyone should want, but nobody else can play with me.
Unless Ben gives permission.
That thought sends an unexpected dirty thrill through me. It makes me naughty… and curious. It’s
the same kind of feeling I got when I tried the milking cups for the first time, out in the barn.
“Louder, baby.” Ben pistons his cock in and out of my soaking cunt. He latches on to my breast,
and tugs and pulls at my teat, as he fucks me in both holes, forcing my pleasure to a ragged peak.
It’s not hard to do as I’m told. I literally can’t keep my noises inside. Actual coherent words are
impossible, as my body responds to his relentless pleasurable commands, but I wail unintelligible
cries at the top of my lungs without a care for how I sound — which is probably like some farm
animal.
Not for the first time, I’m struck by the imagery of being a young heifer getting fucked by the
farm’s massive bull. It’s not far from the truth, and I love it.
Daddy Ben’s friends will think I’m wild.
He pushes his cock deep and gives an appreciative moan as he slows his thrusts to a standstill.
“No. Daddy, don’t stop.”
I beg for more — loudly.
Ben loves it. I feel him smiling into my breast, before he starts sucking at me so hard that I
instinctively buck into him. I rub my clit against him, driving him deeper into both holes, and we both
moan as sensation rockets through me.
I pull tight, squeezing his cock as I rock into him again and again, taking what I need, as I let the
whole world know how good it feels.
Everyone waiting outside is going to know I’m a dirty little bitch, who loves her big mountain
daddy’s cock. They’re going to think about it every time they look at me.
Will they look at Ben as if he’s struck gold? He’s fucking a woman half his age, and she clearly
loves it. Will they wish they could fuck me too?
The idea hits me with an unexpected boost of pleasure, and I take Ben deeper and faster, loving
the way his suckling becomes as restless and edgy as I feel.
Do I want to be fucked by his old school buddies?
I cry out even louder — letting them to know how much I like cock and that I’m hungry for more
— but I feel instantly guilty.
I love Ben. I’m his. His to do with as he pleases.
Maybe he’ll let them fuck me?
I imagine him supervising, as his friends take turns, trying to best him at pleasuring me. Before I
can rein in my imagination, I’m slamming my hips upward, to meet Ben’s hard, unforgiving body.
My body seems to understand and adore the idea of Ben sharing me. The mouth at my breast could
belong to another. He has a whole group of friends. What if two men were milking me? One sucking at
each nipple while—
My orgasm hits so hard, I scream Ben’s name loudly enough to wake even our nearest neighbors,
all those miles away.
Ben eggs me on, fucking me through my spasms as he yehaws, and when I fall limp, he follows me
into bliss with a wholehearted rumble.
“I think you liked my friends’ hearing you take a fat cock, baby girl.”
My cheeks flush with heat, and I squeeze my eyes shut a moment, before opening one just a crack,
to see his face. “I don’t understand why it’s so fun to have other people know how much I love
fucking you, but I do like it,” I admit. Should I be confessing my naughty thoughts about being shared
by his friends?
I’m rewarded with a great smile and a slap on the ass, as he withdraws, but he might not approve
if I told him what else I might want to try.
“Witnesses definitely add an interesting new element to our usual way of doing things,” he agrees,
his grin widening. “I’d better go tidy myself and see to our guests. And to the cows. You be a good
girl and get your gorgeous ass dressed, but don’t wash up. I want you smelling of me all day.”
I shiver and squeeze my legs together. “Yes, Daddy.”
He’s filled me with so much cum, it’s overflowed to slick my thighs. It’s one of my favorite
feelings, and I’m happy to keep myself a mess. Sometimes, after a morning fuck, I’ll wear one of my
short skirts with no underwear, so Ben can watch his cum slide down my legs once I’m up and
walking around. He likes that.
Should I wear a short skirt today? A shiver runs through me, and a little cum leaks from within.
How will the other men react if I bend over and they catch sight of my fucked pussy?
Will they think I’m a juicy little fuck-hole they want to fill too? How would they do it? Take
turns?
My pussy gives a little aftershock of pleasure, and I cinch my thighs, to contain the naughty
thoughts.
I strain my ears to hear Ben’s friends, as he opens the door to greet them.
They cheer and joke around some, and then ask when they’ll get to meet the lady of the house.
I quite like that name.
I also like Ben’s response. “Your curiosity will be rewarded in good time, but because y’all
showed up early, you have to help with the chores while ‘the lady of the house’ makes herself
presentable.”
Presentable?
 We have a lot of freedoms, living so remotely, and Ben likes me topless or bare, so I don’t usually
wear much at all.
I consider my clothing options for company. Just how presentable I should make myself?
 CHAPTER TWO

H oping to please Ben, I decide to wear his favorite town outfit of mine. A simple cropped T-shirt,
my short pink skirt, and nothing else.
He asked me not to wash up, so I don’t. I leave myself the way he likes — well-lubricated and
easily accessible. It’s the way I like it too.
I’ll be giving him every opportunity to access my pussy today. We rarely get visitors, and after
Ben’s showboating and possessive behavior this morning, my body’s on high alert. I already feel
needy again, inside, and I’ll be ready for more of his attention whenever I can get it.
Of course, that may be tricky with four other people vying for his time. He hasn’t seen his buddies
in about a year, so he’ll want to spend as much time with them as he can, before they leave again. I’m
going to have to work hard for my share of Ben’s attention before they go hunting for the rest of the
day, so while they’re down at the barn, I’m going to take care of all the other chores to ensure there’s
time to play.
I quickly set up a platter of cookies and fruit for our guests, and then, munching on an apple slice,
I rush out the door, to collect the eggs. But I’m in such a hurry, I forget to take the big basket.
A cropped T-shirt is not ideal for using as a pouch to hold all the eggs; there’s not nearly enough
fabric. I do my best to gather them all safely, but I’m overloaded, and one falls to the ground. I pull
my shirt a little higher, to keep from losing any more, but it leaves the lower half of my tits hanging
out, so I’ll have to get back to the cabin with the eggs before anyone sees me.
I move fast, concentrating hard on keeping my cargo steady, so no more eggs roll out. The more I
break, the fewer we’ll have to sell, and Ben says we’re saving for something special. A surprise.
Surprises weren’t always good when I was growing up. They usually meant we had to move
house again, or that Mom had a new asshole boyfriend. Ben knows I’ve never enjoyed curveballs, but
he says I’ll like this one, and I trust him, so I can’t help but feel excited. He gives me no hints when I
try to guess what it is, but that doesn’t stop my mind from dreaming up possibilities.
I hope it’s a ring. I’ve dreamed of marrying Ben since I was a kid, and although we haven’t been
together for even a whole year yet, I’d be the happiest girl alive if he asked me to be his forever.
My daydreaming is cut short when I come around the house to find Ben and his childhood friends.
I can only stare and try not to lose another egg to my sudden stop.
I should’ve known they’d be big when he said they’d all played football together in high school,
but looking up at the five of them standing together on the porch makes me feel like a little girl lost in
a forest of huge trees. One of them is even bigger than Ben. And another is holding an infant car seat
handle over his thick forearm, as if it’s a handbag.
My gaze falls on the most adorable sleeping cherub I’ve ever seen. The bow in her short little
curls matches her chubby pink cheeks, and I nearly drop all the eggs, as I run up the steps to beg for
baby cuddles.
“Oh, my God. What’s her name? She’s gorgeous! Can I hold her?”
I look up at her daddy’s face, but he’s looking at me funny.
His gaze slides from my face, to take in the eggs for a good long while — long enough for me to
remember my tits are on display. My nipples pull taut from being caught so exposed, and he’s
definitely staring right at them, but then he shifts his gaze lower, and his eyes widen.
My cheeks flare with heat at the tickling sensation creeping down my inner thigh, and I press my
legs together, to soothe it, smearing Ben’s cum as I shiver.
The big man with the baby saw me dripping Daddy’s cum. I can tell.
I glance at each of the other men in turn, noting the direction of their gazes, and realize they’ve all
seen. Especially Ben.
“Maggie…”
Ben’s tone is all deep and growly, but I can’t tell if I’m being scolded or if I’m about to get bent
over and fucked on the spot.
“Yes, Daddy?”
Ben swears under his breath and gestures for his friends to move aside, to make way for me. “You
have ten seconds to get inside the fucking house and put those eggs away,” he says. “Ten… nine…”
With no time to waste, I rush to do as I’m told. I’m putting the last of the eggs into their cartons, as
the cabin door is shut and Ben’s heavy boots scuff across the floor toward me.
He didn’t even take off his boots? His feathers are definitely ruffled.
I turn to face him, and roll my T-shirt back down when I see his stormy face. “Daddy?”
“Why didn’t you take the basket?” His voice is rough and low, and I tremble on the spot.
“I was in a hurry, and I forgot it. I wanted to get my chores done fast, so there might be time to get
some attention before you left on the hunt. Are you angry, Daddy?”
“Am I angry?” He advances until he’s standing so close my hard nipples brush against his lower
chest. “Am I angry that my friends saw your gorgeous tits, while cum dripped from your sweet young
pussy to coat your thighs? Am I angry they heard you call me Daddy, so they know I’m the big man of
the house who fucks your pretty little cunt?”
I still can’t tell if he’s mad or horny, so I don’t meet his gaze directly. If he’s mad, it’d be bad
manners, and I don’t want to disrespect him. I live for his love and approval, and this whole situation
has got my blood pumping with the need to please him. I’m desperately excited, and I’m not even sure
why.
I haven’t felt this kind of edgy giddiness since I came here to beg him to take my virginity — when
I showed him what I wanted and then had to wait, for him to proceed. Ben likes things done a certain
way. His way. The way that leaves me feeling cherished and deeply satisfied. Always.
I swallow hard and take a step back, before getting down on my hands and knees. I keep my gaze
low and my ass high. “Will you spank me, Daddy?”
“Why? Do you want Daddy to make your sweet, juicy cunt throb, Maggie?”
“Yes.”
Ben kneels next to me and slowly pushes my skirt up over my ass. The brush of his rough hands
sets my skin shivering until every hair on my head is tingling in anticipation.
“Do you think Daddy wants to punish you or pleasure you, baby girl?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, squeezing my thighs together as I tilt my hips, to display myself for him.
“Both?”
 Ben gives a long, low rumble, and I’m pretty sure it means he agrees.
He runs the flat of his hand over my ass and my creamed pussy, spreading his cum and my juices.
He gives me a short, sharp slap over the mess, and heat blooms on my needy flesh as I squirm. Ben
knows how to make me want more.
“Daddy.”
“Did you like showing your tits to my friends, Maggie?”
“I didn’t know that I…” My defense dies on my lips. I did know my shirt was barely covering me.
I just wasn’t expecting an audience. “I didn’t mean to show them, Daddy.”
He gently strokes over the warmth his slap left on my skin, making it thrum with sensation. “I
didn’t ask if you meant to, Maggie. I asked if you liked it.”
My hips shift in a restless sway, and I lower my head as I feel my face warming as much as my
ass. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Ben takes his hand away, and I’m left feeling cold and abandoned.
“Yes.” I whisper the confession, hoping to feel his touch again.
He runs his big hand down my back and pushes two thick fingers into my pussy. “I know you
loved it, baby girl. There’s no point in trying to hide it, when you’re wetter than I left you.”
He pulls out his fingers and delivers another swift slap to my pussy, just the way I like it — a
reward for telling the truth.
I slide against his hand, as my pussy starts to pulse, and I know he’s right. I’m soaked.
“Did you like them knowing your pretty cunt was full of cum?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
The impact of another perfectly placed spank sends me forward, but I get back into position
quickly, greedy for his touch.
“You want me to fill it some more?” he asks.
I spread my legs wider, to brace for an approach from behind. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Mmm…” Ben plays his slippery fingers through my pussy and fondles my clit with expert
precision. “Do you want them to know I’ve spanked you?” He slides his hand down my ass, until it
rests on the back of my upper left thigh, where his hand print will surely be visible marking my skin
below the short hem of my skirt.
“Yes, Daddy.”
I’m given three in a row — one on each thigh, and the last on my clit.
Sensation zings through my core, and I pull tight as Ben mounts me.
He forces his massive cock inside me in one swift thrust, stretching me till I’m gasping. “Daddy.”
“That’s my girl. Nice and tight,” he grunts, pumping his fat cock in and out of me. “You were so
fucking cute out there, gushing over Gunnar’s fucking baby. Makes me want to put one inside you.”
My pussy clamps around him, and he moans.
“Is that what you want, sweet girl? You want a baby?”
I tense and don’t answer. Don’t even let myself think about it. Ben can’t have kids, and I won’t
ever let him think he’s not enough for me. He’s plenty. He’s everything.
“Answer me, Maggie. Do you want to grow a baby in this gorgeous and fertile young body? You
want to feed a baby at your breast? Want to make me an actual daddy?”
My pussy automatically squeezes his cock at the idea he’s sown in my mind, but I shake my head
and try not to think of what a wonderful father he’d be, and how my pussy would gush if I saw him
with a baby in his loving arms. “No, Daddy.”
His growl is low and rough, and he thrusts into me harder and faster. “Lying girls don’t get to
come, Maggie.”
He shoves his cock deep and stiffens as he spills into me with soft, satisfied grunts. A needy
whimper peels from my lips, as my impending climax fades to nothing, and disappointment sets in.
Cum leaks out of me, chasing his cock as he withdraws, and Ben slaps my messy cunt — too
gently to give me what I’m craving. “You’ll keep.”
He gets to his feet and pulls me to mine before straightening my clothes. He’s restrained in his
movements, purposely glancing over my hard nipples with only a hint of his usual interest. “We’ll talk
about this later, Maggie. Right now, it’s time for you to meet my friends, and you’ve already made
quite the impression.”
He cup my face with his big palms and strokes my cheek with his thumbs in a fond gesture. “Do
you realize all four men out there want to fuck you now?”
I almost lose my breath. “They do?”
“Why wouldn’t they? They’ve seen all they need to see. You’re beautiful. And sweet. And you’re
ready to take your man’s big cock in your snug cunt any time he wants it. You’re the dream, baby girl.”
I gaze up into his warm eyes. “I’m your dream.”
“You are.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But maybe it’s time we did some more work toward
yours.”
Confused, I try to read his face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that, if there are things you want, you need to talk to me about them, Maggie.”
“I don’t want anything, Daddy.”
“Oh?” His eyes dance at me, as he slips his hand under my skirt. “You don’t want to come?” He
runs his fingers between my soaking pussy lips and teases my clit.
I melt against him in an instant. “I do.”
“But you won’t want to tell Daddy everything else you want?” He swirls his fingers hypnotically
over my sensitive bundle of nerves, and I grip his soft shirt.
“You’re happy with what I give you? That’s all you want and nothing more?” he asks.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Hmm… I love your commitment to me, sweet girl.” He’s speaking the truth, and I’m being
beautifully rewarded for my loyalty. His deft fingers demand my pleasure with every masterful stroke,
and I give myself over to his care.
His beard scuffs my neck, as his lips find my ear. “What about the things I couldn’t give you
without other men visiting?” he whispers, working me with his magic touch until my legs feel weak.
“Without them, you wouldn’t be getting all hot and bothered about showing off the pink handprints I
gave you, or the cum that’ll seep out of you while you’re serving the coffee. You definitely enjoy the
idea of them seeing you as my sexy little plaything.”
I mumble confirmation against his plaid flannel, as my body responds for me.
“You like the thought of them wanting to fuck you. Don’t you, Maggie?”
I shake my head, but his words make me greedy for more. I chase his teasing fingers, needing him
to bring relief, but he holds me firm, giving me just enough to keep me on the edge.
“Why shake your head? Your body tells me everything I need to know, so there’s no point in
denying it, sweet girl. You can tell Daddy anything, Maggie. And if you do, maybe he won’t leave you
waiting so long to be satisfied.”
I whimper into his warmth, trapped between wanting to come and not being brave enough to admit
the things I’ve been thinking.
“You could come right now,” Ben whispers in my ear, as he demonstrates his expertise with a
single touch that sends a ripple of delight through my pussy. “Maybe I should tell you what I already
know?” he suggests in a gruffer tone when I maintain my silence.
I tighten my grip on his shirt, as his thick, cum-messed fingers stretch my entrance. He must be
using at least three. Maybe four. I’m so slippery, he could probably fit all five. I shiver at the thought
of having him stretch me that much, and then whimper with disappointment as the pressure retreats.
Ben hums with approval and pushes his fingers inside me again, as he grinds his palm against my
clit in achingly slow circles that press too lightly to bring pleasure raining down on me. He’s going to
make that happen with words; I know it.
A full-body tremor runs through me at what he might say, and I seek a more secure grip, in case
my legs give way now that he’s turned them into spaghetti.
“You love me,” he says with certainty.
Too enthralled by sensation to speak, I can only nod and pull myself closer to him.
“Your tits are full and gorgeous, and you love what they do to me. You also love what they do to
the men in town, and what your breasts did to my buddies out there when they copped an eyeful.
They’re beautiful fucking tits, and you’re proud of them.”
He ducks to nip at one of my nipples through my shirt, and I moan in agreement, as I rock against
his hand.
“You love the idea of other people hearing us fuck, and you loved them seeing the spoils drip
down your legs,” he says, his voice growing more husky.
I squeeze at his fingers, as the heat of his words pulls my core tight.
“I bet you’d like to bend over and give my friends a good look at all the cum your sweet, precious
pussy is carting around. Am I right, baby girl? You want to show them the pretty little cunt where
Daddy shoves his fat cock?”
His words add fuel to the fire, and I buck against his hand, needing a little more friction than he’s
giving me. “Daddy.”
“Would you like them to watch me fuck you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge his words, but my body betrays me. My pussy
clamps so tight with need, my interest in his suggestion is undeniable. It’s as if this is an interrogation,
and my pussy is a fucking lie detector, ratting out all my secrets.
He laughs softly. “I think that’s a yes.” There’s a distinct note of satisfaction in his voice. “Is it a
yes, Maggie?”
He stills his hand, and it’s like taking a boiling pot from the stove. I’m forced to cool off, and
there’s an unspoken declaration that he won’t bring back the heat until I tell him the truth.
“Yes.” I whisper it, in case it’s a bad thing to admit, but Ben must think it’s a good answer,
because he quickly pushes me back to the brink of orgasm. It doesn’t take much to rekindle the
sensation, and he rumbles softly in my ear, as my pussy clamps tight.
I’m so close to release, but he expertly keeps me riding that edge. I’m aching with the intensity of
the deprivation, but still he makes me wait. The interrogation isn’t over.
“Tell Daddy one more thing, and he’ll make you come.”
My body’s strung tight, and my mind is racing as much as my heart. What will he make me divulge
next? I’m about to confess everything I’ve ever wanted, just to feel some relief.
“Do you want Daddy to watch them fuck you, baby girl? Have some other big cocks stretching
your tight little cunt? Leave you dripping with seed? Want those seeds to take, so you can grow a baby
in that soft little belly?”
As soon as he says the words, I can’t un-think them, and when he loosens his grip on me
momentarily to brush over my flat stomach, I can’t help but seize the opportunity to ride his hand like
a maniac. I thrust at his fingers, taking all of them deeper until the thickness makes me gasp, and I
cling to him as my body tenses with the full power of an edged and unbridled climax. I clamp around
his big knuckles, my core grabbing and desperate in its wild convulsions at the mental image of him
watching me get fucked by his friends.
It feels so wrong and shameful to admit such a thing when I have the perfect man already, and yet,
every image of that scene passing through my mind brings another wave of pleasure.
Unable to hold back or deny how much I like the idea, I’m propelled forward instead. Thrown
over the edge by the mere suggestion of Ben and his team fucking me, I can only cry out and fuck my
man’s fingers until I’m shaking from the effort.
When I collapse in his arms, Ben strokes the last of my pleasure from my depths with purpose.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, burying my face in his soft shirt. “I’d never ask to do it. I love you. It’s just
a naughty little thought that snuck into my head. It doesn’t mean anything. I promise.”
“Yes, it does,” Ben replies in a stern voice, as he coaxes another fluttering ripple from my pussy.
“It means that we’re not done talking about this, and that you’re going to have to trust me with all
those naughty little fantasies you’ve been secretly stockpiling. Keeping you happy is important to me.
I thought you understood that. Who helped you get what you wanted when he found out you loved
getting milked?”
“You did.”
“Exactly.” Ben slips his fingers from my pussy and presents them to me as they’re dripping our
combined sex juices. “Suck these clean for Daddy, and then go put on some underwear. We’ve got
visitors to tend to, and it doesn’t seem right for you to flaunt your fucked pussy when there’s a baby
present. She was an unexpected little guest, but after seeing how she’s affected you, I’m glad Gunnar
had to bring her along.”
 CHAPTER THREE

W ecabin
have refreshments out on the porch. The weather’s nice, and it’d feel too cramped inside the
with this many big men. It’s cramped enough on the porch. I have to concentrate as I weave
between all the long legs, following Ben and the coffee out with the tray of cookies, and it’s hard not
to bump into anyone’s knees or trip over the baby’s carrier that the daddy, Gunnar, is rocking with his
foot.
I smile at him, but it’s hard to tear my gaze from his chubby little baby. “She’s a real cutie.”
“She wasn’t this morning, when she was screaming down the Bed and Breakfast with all her
damned strength,” one of the other guys says with a smile, as he holds out his hand to shake mine.
He’s fairer than Ben, and he has bright-blue eyes that sparkle with mischief when he talks. “Name’s
Daryl, and it’s real nice to finally meet you, Maggie. Ben’s told us a lot about you.”
I glance at Ben and blush at his obvious pride, as he winks at me. “All good things, I hope.”
“Not a bad word amongst them,” the most solidly built and more serious-looking man assures me,
as he engulfs my hand next in his much larger one. His eyes are warm and brown, like Ben’s, and they
make him seem just as kind, but they don’t smolder like Ben’s do, and a slight blush fills his cheeks as
he looks away shyly. “Vince,” he says quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Vince. And Daryl.” I look to the last of the men, who’s slightly smaller. “That
must make you Jason.”
The blond flashes me an amused smile. “Must it?”
My cheeks warm, and I glance at the baby’s handsome father. “Well, I know the baby belongs to
Gunnar.” I shake his hand, too, and realize each one I’ve held in greeting is about twice the size of my
own. “It must have been pretty intimidating, coming up against y’all when you were a team.”
“It’s definitely something we played up, to instill fear into the hearts of our rivals,” Gunnar
agrees. “And this here is little Viv.”
“Viv? It suits her.” I crouch down next to the sleeping curly-haired angel, about to stroke one of
her chubby cheeks, but Jason snags my wrist before I can make contact.
“Please don’t,” he says.
His grip is strong, and I gasp in surprise at the effect it has on me. The authoritative and firm
gesture of control is not dissimilar to Ben’s, and it feels odd, having another man restraining my wrist.
Jason releases me slowly, lifting one finger at a time from my skin, as if he wishes for them to
linger on me the way his gaze does. “The kid may look like an angel, but the lungs on her could wake
the dead.”
Gunnar pulls the baby’s carrier closer, as if to shield his daughter from the insult. “It’s not her
fault. She’s hungry and upset that I don’t have tits,” he says defensively, before meeting my gaze. “My
ex had a family emergency, so I’m taking care of Viv over the weekend. Unfortunately, the little
blossom has been refusing to take a bottle. It wasn’t until she screamed herself to sleep that I could
even stick it in her mouth for a dream-feed, but she barely drank any.” He glances at his friends. “She
definitely tested some limits this morning.”
“What he means is, she’s lucky she’s cute,” Daryl says with a laugh.
“She’s cute, and her screaming makes for a great little contraceptive,” Jason adds with a grin. “I
like the idea of making babies, but I don’t think I’m ever going to want one for myself.”
“Nobody would make one with you, anyway,” Gunnar says with a smirk. “You’re married to your
job, and you’re never in one place long enough to raise a family.”
“Just the way I like it.” Jason smiles and looks around the green gardens, pastures, and woods. “I
can see why you’re happy here, though, Ben. I do miss the country lifestyle we all had as kids. It
seems a long time ago now that we were getting up to no good out in the wild.”
Ben glances at me. He drops his gaze to where I can still feel Jason’s touch on my wrist, and he
smiles when I hide it behind my back. “Extra hands are always welcome if you’ve got the time to visit
more often than for our annual hunting trip.”
Jason makes a soft humming sound as he closes his eyes and breathes in the fresh air. “I might be
persuaded to swing by on my travels. Unless y’all are starting a family of squawkers like this thing
anytime soon.” He gestures at the baby.
Ben grunts. “We’ve both thought about it, but it’s complicated. More coffee, anyone?”
Big Vince holds out his mug for a top-up, and Ben obliges.
“Leave the baby to sleep, and come sit, Maggie. She’ll be awake soon enough, and I’m pretty sure
Gunnar’s going to ask you to watch her so he can come hunting.” He turns toward Gunnar, whose
wary gaze remains on his little girl. “Am I right?”
“I don’t know. I barely got her to drink any milk, and I don’t enjoy thinking about her upset and
fussing while I’m away. Maybe I should sit this one out?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I pipe up, practically desperate to get my hands on her. “I love babies. I used
to babysit my neighbor’s little boy all the time, and he was even younger than Viv when I started. I
can handle it. I swear.”
Gunnar looks from me to Ben. “Your little hen getting broody, Ben?”
Ben shrugs and seems to choose his words carefully. “She might be.”
My heart beats a little faster as he meets my gaze, and the truth sizzles between us. We definitely
need to talk later.
“You’re not too young for that kind of responsibility?” Daryl asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Frowning, I stand tall so they can all see I’m a grown woman. “I might be a lot younger than y’all,
but I am nearly twenty. I help Ben run this place, and I’m plenty old enough to do all the things you
heard us doing this morning and more. I’m hardly a child.”
Ben presses his lips together but I still catch the twitch of his smile. He clears his throat and pats
the spot beside him, where he’d like me to sit. “Maggie may be young, and free-speaking in a way that
demonstrates her delightfully frisky nature, but she’s a sweet and capable girl. Viv will be safe in her
hands, Gun. If you want to come hunting, you’ve got a fine nanny offering her services for the day.
Maggie knows her own mind, and if she says she’d love to, she means it. It could be good practice…
if that’s what she wants it to be.”
I’m about to sit next to him, but he pulls me onto his lap instead. I stiffen as he slips his fingers
inside me in the same maneuver, but his arm comes casually around my waist. His arm pins me in
place, and when he gently strokes my inner walls, it takes all my strength to appear unaffected.
 “What do you think, Maggie? You want to see what it’d be like if we had a baby?”
My pussy twitches at the idea, and Ben gives a soft rumble as he nurtures the little quiver. He’s
testing me. Using my body’s responses again, to see if I like the things he’s speaking of — and clearly,
I do, but now isn’t what I thought he meant when he said we’d talk about it later.
We have company.
I glance around, to see if anyone’s noticed what Ben’s doing to me under my skirt.
Vince definitely has. The huge man’s sitting next to us, and he can see one of Ben’s hands has
disappeared beneath. Every movement made to tease my pussy must be obvious from his angle, and I
almost expected the man to be horrified, but Vince’s amused smirk is tinged with hunger, and his
obvious interest makes him appear even sexier. The heat of an intense flush washes over my skin, and
I squeeze Ben’s fingers as I shiver.
Ben strokes the front wall of my pussy to make me squirm in his lap, and Vince’s hooded eyes
drink in everything, as he sips his coffee and remains quiet.
I try to fight my urges and sit as still as possible, but the fact that Vince sees what Ben’s doing to
me only makes me want to fuck Ben’s fingers so hard the rest of his friends will stop what they’re
doing to watch me.
The thought makes me panic, but meeting Ben’s gaze over my shoulder does nothing to dampen my
desire. He appears to be enjoying himself too, and when I shift my hips as subtly as I can manage, I
feel his cock hard beneath me, even though he’s come twice this morning already.
He likes the idea of sharing this naughty girl with his friends as much as I do.
The guilt I was feeling falls away in an instant, and when I glance at Ben again, he smiles as if
he’s noticed that weight, lifting from me. He pushes a third finger inside me, and my not-quite-stifled
moan draws more attention.
All gazes lock onto me, and I whimper as my pussy clamps tight around Ben’s thick fingers. Why
do I like it so much when everyone knows Ben drives me wild? With no will to stop, I rock against
his hand uncontrollably until he pulls his hand away and wipes the mess it’s collected over my thigh,
for all to see.
Every man stares and knows the state of my pussy. And I want them to know.
I feel like Ben’s dirty little slut, and I don’t hate it. In fact, the opposite is true. I have no idea
what to do with myself when I feel desperate to shed my clothes and drop to all fours, so I can be
publicly used right now.
I clear my throat, stand on wobbly legs, and adjust my underwear so they’re no longer shoved
aside and riding up. “Pardon my frisky nature for getting the better of me. Please excuse me, while I
go freshen up and put on a fresh pot of coffee, to fill a thermos for the hunt. If y’all didn’t sleep much
last night, you’re going to need it.”
“We all appreciate you doing that, Maggie. Thank you.” Ben’s tone spreads a wave of gooseflesh
over my skin. He makes it sound like everyone enjoyed our little show, and that means he may want to
repeat it.
I twist my thighs together to lessen my desire, but there’s no denying it’s there. Not anymore. I like
other men hearing me and watching me get pleasured, and Ben likes it too.
If there’s one thing we do with our freedom out here together, it’s embracing a wildly sexual
lifestyle and indulging in fantasies we both enjoy. Ben’s always encouraged my curiosity, and he does
his best to give me all I ask for. He’s my loving, loyal, sexy as fuck mountain daddy, and he’s been
trying to remind me of that all morning. Why did I ever think I needed to hide what I wanted from
him?
 CHAPTER FOUR

B aby Viv is awake and fussing when I return, and Gunnar is diligently tending to the confused little
girl as he rummages in the diaper bag Ben’s holding for him.
“Can I do anything to help?” I ask as the other men shy away from the child.
“She needs changing, but would you mind making her another bottle?” He hands me a can of
powdered formula and then a bottle. “The instructions are on the label.” He snuggles Viv closer. “Not
too hot,” he adds with visible concern.
It’s obvious that he cares deeply for his little girl, and I know for a fact that not all men take their
parenting responsibilities so seriously. It’s incredibly hot, and it makes me wonder why he’s not with
Viv’s mom anymore when a caring daddy is maybe the most appealing thing a man could be. I guess
everyone has different ideas about that sort of thing. I glance at Ben. My mom didn’t ever fully
appreciate his big-daddy deliciousness the way I do.
I give Gunnar a reassuring smile. “I know what to do, but you can check the temperature before
she drinks if you want to be sure.”
Once I’ve made up the bottle, I return to find Viv in Ben’s arms. He’s trying to jolly a smile onto
her face by making goofy expressions. It’s not really working for her, but it definitely sets my insides
alight with joy. My sexy mountain daddy is rugged and bossy as hell, but he’s also a big marshmallow
softie, who makes my heart melt.
Seeing him with a baby in his arms makes me want to admit out loud that I want him to put one
inside me, but that may not be possible after an early battle with mumps left him with very little
chance of ever procreating.
I hold out the bottle to Gunnar. “Here you go.”
He thanks me and squirts some on his wrist before licking it off. “Perfect. Thanks.” He catches me
staring at him, and he glances at Ben. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say in a rush, as I calm my thoughts about seeing another big, bearded man with a
thirst for baby’s milk. That can’t be a thing. Gunnar isn’t aware that slurping that milk off his skin is
something that ignites hundreds of incredible fuckfest moments between me and Ben. I swallow hard
and look at Ben too.
He’s smoldering at me so hard, I’m going to go up in flames. He knows I got turned on by
Gunnar’s innocent milk check.
Gunnar’s gaze quickly returns to his grumbling daughter, and he takes a deep breath and holds his
hands out for his baby. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s try this again, Vivvy.”
The baby settles into his arms easily, but she’s not happy about the bottle. She takes the teat into
her mouth well enough, but then scrunches her face into a red fury, and she pulls away unimpressed
and screaming.
“Come on, sweetie. I know you’re hungry, and I’m trying to help. Just try it for me. Please?”
Gunnar is endlessly patient, as he tries several more times, all without success.
“It’s like she’d rather starve. Oh. Baby, please don’t starve. Is it me? Will someone else try?” The
growing desperation in his voice is palpable, and Ben glances at me before gesturing that he’ll have a
go.
Little Viv isn’t nearly as enchanted by Ben as I am. She squawks and fusses, but Ben takes it
tirelessly in his stride, repeatedly soothing her between feeding attempts.
Again, the sight of a baby in his arms does something seriously hot to my insides. If I could be
impregnated simply by watching him flaunt his big-daddy ways, I swear, we’d already have a whole
brood of kids.
Viv continues to refuse the bottle and is getting harder to console. What’s worse, her cries are
stirring something inside me — something I’m probably not meant to share with Ben’s friends.
I meet Ben’s gaze, as my heart starts to pound.
Reading my face like a pro, he drops his gaze to my tits. My nipples are standing proud from
enjoying the sight of him, but the telltale prickle of a letdown is making them tingle, and I can’t do
anything to stop it.
It’s my body’s natural response to both Ben and this crying baby.
Wet circles appear on my T-shirt, blooming from each nipple and turning the pale fabric
transparent.
Ben’s muttered curse brings more attention to it, and soon, all five men are staring at my breasts
as the baby gets even more grizzly.
“Can I try feeding her?” I ask, reaching for Viv and her bottle.
“With your tits?” Daryl breathes in awe, as he stares at my chest. “What the fuck is happening? Is
that normal?”
“For me, it is,” I say simply. I take Viv and her bottle from Ben, and then sit to see if she’ll take it
from me.
It’s no use. She can clearly smell my milk, and keeps lunging for my tits, trying to suck at me
through my shirt. “She really fucking hates this bottle,” I tell Gunnar over her frustrated screaming, as
I hand her back.
He holds her close, and winces when her cries become even more piercing. The poor little button
is bright pink and beside herself with rage. Having breastmilk so close and not getting must have been
perceived as not only an insult, but also an intolerable cruelty.
“Would you consider offering her your breasts?” Jason yells over the din, his hands remaining
firmly over his ears.
Gunnar’s face lights up, as he looks between the damp areas of my T-shirt, my face, and his very
unhappy little girl. “Would you?”
I glance at Ben and shrug. “I could try?”
He watches me a moment, and then takes a step toward the house. “Hold fire.”
He rushes away, and I have to wonder if maybe this is a step too far in understanding what it feels
like to live with a baby. All these men seem desperate for the baby to be fed and soothed, though, and
when Ben returns carrying the big, comfy armchair from inside the cabin, I know he approves.
He does his best to make me comfortable and props an extra pillow at my side, before stepping
back to see what his friends think.
They’re all still staring at my soaked shirt, transfixed.
 “Looks like you’ve got yourself an audience for this milking, baby girl. All that stands between
their hungry eyes and your gorgeous tits is that wet T-shirt,” Ben whispers near my ear, as he leans
close to plump one of the pillows.
Heart racing, I raise my arms, so he can remove it for me.
Ben swears under his breath, and then pulls my shirt off, so all his friends can see my milk-
swollen breasts. He arches an eyebrow at me, as if to ask if I’m satisfied, and I nod and hold my arms
out for the baby.
Gunnar’s quick to relinquish her, and Viv’s just as quick to latch on, suckle, and gulp down my
milk like crazy. Anyone would’ve thought the girl hasn’t eaten in days, at the rate she’s guzzling, and
it’s a really different sensation to the way Ben suckles at me — the suction is strong, but gentle at the
same time, and it’s a different kind of pleasurable.
Having a baby involved definitely puts a dampener on the saucy side of things. I run a hand over
her head of soft curls and smile down at her greedy little snuffles, as she pulls her feed from me.
When I glance up, every single man is staring.
They watch with absolute focus, as I breastfeed Gunnar’s baby. Four of them have slack jaws and
erections. Ben has an erection too, but his mouth is curled into a steamy smirk.
“This is…” Daryl tears his gaze away, only to bring it straight back, and when he notices
everyone else entranced by my breasts, he stumbles slightly and moans, before rushing to cover his
mouth. “Why is this…? H-how?”
“It’s a… hobby we enjoy here on the farm.” Ben’s voice is rough and thick with need.
“Apparently, I’m not the only one who likes my girl’s milky tits. You want to claim these kinks out
loud and tell the guys how this came about, Maggie?”
My face fills with heat, as I meet his gaze. I could say no, but I don’t want to. I like his friends’
thinking I’m a hot piece of ass with great tits and that I do kinky shit with my man, to heighten my
sexual pleasure. I’m pretty sure Ben wants me to embrace my desires and quit hiding them, as if I’m
ashamed of what we do.
I take a deep breath, cup my non-feeding breast, and stroke a spray of milk from my teat, for all to
see.
“What can I say? I’m a sexual creature, and I like to be milked. By Ben. Sometimes, we do it in
the barn with a milking machine, while we fuck. I love it.”
I glance down at the baby and shrug. “This is different, though. It’s not about sex. It’s about a
hungry little girl, getting what she needs. Isn’t that right, beautiful girl?” I look up, to see them all still
staring, and it sends a thrill through me. “Y’all watching me may be making me feel a little sexy,” I
admit quietly.
I shift my gaze toward Ben. There’s a look on his face I can’t quite read. He seems both
incredibly turned on, but also… proud of me? I can’t help my smile. I love being his good girl, and
knowing I’ve pleased him makes my inside burst with joy.
Ben smiles too, and comes forward to kiss my forehead before whispering in my ear, “A baby
looks real fucking good on you, Maggie.”
 CHAPTER FIVE

B en and the others arrive home from the hunt with six wild turkeys and two boars, all strung on
poles between the men. They’re filthy and tired, but spirits are high, as we gather wood and start
a campfire.
Gunnar is so appreciative to have his daughter happy and giggling again, that I’m pulled into a
massive bear hug that leaves me covered in mud and blood and man-stink.
He smells different from the way Ben does after a hunt, but it’s no less intoxicating, and I’m left a
little lightheaded once he’s set me back down with a kiss to the top of my head.
“You’re a saint,” he says, and the others all agree, as they shower me with praise in a way that
makes me feel suddenly shy. I snuggle against Ben’s side and breathe him in for comfort, but he smells
all manly and delicious, like Gunnar had, and it only arouses a bolder energy within me.
“You all need a swim in the creek,” I mumble, as I slide my hand into the back pocket of Ben’s
jeans and give his ass a squeeze.
He rumbles softly, nudges my shirt higher, and drags his filthy hands across my belly, before he
gives my ass a squeeze and wipes more dirty fingermarks down my thigh. “So do you.”
“Last one to the creek is a turd on a stick,” Jason cries, shoving Daryl aside and taking off at a
sprint. Daryl recovers quickly and takes off after him, but the rest of us collect snacks and towels
before ambling along, unhurried by the game. Gunnar wraps Viv in one of the towels, so he doesn’t
mess her clean clothes, and by the time we get to the creek, she’s fallen asleep on his shoulder.
We make her a snug little bed on the bank with the other towels, and then everyone starts stripping
off, to join Jason and Daryl, who are already naked and splashing about.
Privacy is one of the most wonderful things about farm life in the middle of nowhere. These guys
grew up with this kind of freedom, but now that they all live with neighbors, Ben says they take every
opportunity they can to reconnect with their fun-loving roots in the great outdoors.
None of them seem shy about me seeing them in the raw, so I don’t bother feeling embarrassed
about how enjoyable it is to watch five men gallivanting around with their cocks wagging and
bobbing about.
“You coming in?” Vince calls, lazily floating by on his back. His cock is on full display, and much
like the man himself, it is not small.
Gunnar is also exceedingly well hung, and his cock thickens at Vince’s suggestion. He scans the
wilderness surrounding us, and nods. “Nobody around to see you but us. We won’t tell.”
“What happens on the farm stays on the farm,” Jason confirms in a commanding tone. “Ben’s
rules.”
My big mountain daddy’s eyes are on me, and he moves toward me through the water with
authority, confirming that his command is law here. The sheer power he holds over us all makes my
blood buzz and my core ache. He dives under the water and surfaces right in front of me, dripping as
he rakes his gaze over my body and his cock plumps. “They’ll do as they’re told, and you’re free to
do as you please without fear, Maggie.”
He glances over his shoulder at his buddies, and then looks me up and down as I sit on the bank
tracing the dirty fingerprints he left along my thigh earlier. “You want Daddy to wash you in front of
all these men, pretty girl?”
I wet my lips and glance at the other guys. They seem to be waiting for my response, and the dicks
I can see above the water seem intrigued by Ben’s suggestion. Thanks to my visibly hard nipples, my
interest is just as plain to see, but I spread my legs, to show Daddy my soaked panties.
I definitely love the idea of him showing off my body and what I like to do with it. We don’t get a
lot of visitors, and I never would have thought about this kind of thing before his friends arrived this
morning, but now I’m having a hard time reining in my curiosity. It’s like learning to be milked all
over again — exciting and unspeakable, like a secret that’s meant to be kept out here, where we’re
free to do anything that feels good, and nobody can judge us.
Ben’s shown me so many ways to enjoy my body, and now he’s showing me something new. He’s
sparked my curiosity once again, and I want him to teach me all there is when he makes everything
feel so filthy and good.
I peel off my shirt, and then stand, to shimmy out of my skirt and underwear.
The dirty streaks he left on my skin seem even more possessive when I’m naked, and that thought
makes me even more excited.
Ben holds his arms out, to invite me in, and I walk down into the creek, feeling like every man’s
fantasy as every gaze hones in on me.
I wade into Ben’s strong embrace, and he folds around me, making me feel small and precious, as
I stand in the refreshingly cool water. It laps at me mid-thigh, and when the breeze picks up, I shiver
against Ben, as my skin breaks out in gooseflesh. It’s still plenty warm out, so as his fingers brush
over the tiny, raised hairs, I think we both know they’re more to do with anticipation than any chill.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, his cock straining against my belly. “I’m a
lucky man.” He bends low, and his lips find my neck, as his beard tickles along my skin. “But nothing
is more important than you and what you want. Are you sure you want me to show these guys what
you let me do to your pretty little body, Maggie?”
I nod and press a kiss to his chest. “Is it really okay if I’m curious, Daddy? Just thinking about it
feels good.”
He hums in agreement, and his cock twitches between us. “You know I love your curiosity.”
My back is to his friends, and he trails his fingers down my spine, then grabs my ass, spreading
my cheeks and strokes his fingertips over my holes. “You want them to see you washed? Milked?
Fingered? Fucked?”
“Daddy.”
The water’s not deep enough to cover his movements, so his friends can clearly see the way he’s
touching me.
“I want it all,” I confess in a whisper, as I hitch one leg on his hip to show them even more.
Ben moans and pulls my cheeks wider for their viewing pleasure. “That’s my greedy girl.” He
quickly spins me until my back is pressed to his front and I’m facing the others. He doesn’t say a
word, he simply holds me in place, splashes some water at my stomach, and starts washing me. His
firm strokes remove the dirty streaks from my skin, but leave it marked with pink where he’s rubbed.
 I glance from one man to the next, guessing at what they’re thinking. They’re all twice my age, and
like Ben, may have a thing for younger women. Or maybe they like how open I am with my sexuality
— that I so clearly adore being Ben’s milky little sex toy and love to be played with.
I count four hard cocks, not including the one at my back, and I feel so incredibly desired, as Ben
run his hand up the inside of my thigh. I try to trap his fingers between my legs and squirm against
them.
Ben is gentle but firm with his response, manipulating my body until I have less control over
bringing myself pleasure. “Easy, girl,” he says. “Daddy’s got you.”
I melt back into him, and he massages my breasts, pulling a needy moan from my lips, as he rolls
and tugs at my teats. Before long, there’s a pleasant tingle at my scalp and a prickle at my nipples, and
Ben milks me in front of his friends. The milk drips down my body and into the water, and Gunnar
steps closer, his eyes huge, as his massive cock jerks at me.
Ben’s voice is low and husky in my ear. “Gunnar likes your milky tits, beautiful.”
Milking me with one hand, Ben skims his other one lower. It slips between my thighs, and a gentle
pressure encourages me to step my legs further apart. “We’ll let him know you like them too. Show
him how wet your little cunt gets when I milk you, sweet girl.”
He slides his hand through my abundant arousal, tracing my shape and reminding my nerve
endings of the pounding I received earlier. Slippery fingers circle my clit on repeat, as Ben tugs at my
nipple, and I bite my lip on another moan when he spreads my tender and puffy pussy lips to show his
friends my soaking cunt.
Impressed expletives are shared between them, and I rock into Ben’s hand as I’m driven into a
lusty frenzy. “Daddy.”
“Mm…?”
I can hear his smile.
His firm fingers pull the milk from my throbbing nipple as he strums my clit with alternating
rhythms and teases my entrance until I’m panting and desperate for penetration. “Everyone can see
how swollen and tight you are, from being fucked so much already. They heard how much you loved
getting fucked by Daddy’s big cock, and now, you’re showing them you still haven’t had enough. You
want to come again, don’t you, sweet girl?”
I whimper as I chase his fingers.
“Do you want all Daddy’s friends to see you come, Maggie?”
“Yes.”
“How do you want it? Like this? Or with Daddy’s fat cock inside you? Facing me or facing them?
Tell me what you want, beautiful.”
“I want them to see my smile and my tits bouncing while you fuck me, Daddy.”
Ben moans and tugs at my ear with his teeth, then he grips the back of my neck in one big hand and
thrusts my head downward, so my ass presents for him. He pushes his fingers into my hair and curls
them into a fist, tugging as he uses his grip to direct my face toward his friends. Then he kicks my legs
further apart.
The bulbous head of his cock slides through my slit, getting greased in my arousal, and Daddy
roars, as he forces his massive cock inside my ready channel.
“So fucking tight, baby girl,” he growls through his teeth, as he thrusts into me again and again.
“What you do to me… What you do to all of us.”
He tightens his fist in my hair when I dip my head, and my scalp burns as he holds my face up for
his friends to see. Every one of them is holding his cock and stroking in time with Ben’s hip thrusts, as
if they’re imagining themselves fucking me.
An early wave of pleasure washes over me at being so desired.
As my core draws taut, Ben slaps my ass, spurring me on. “That’s my girl. Fucking show them
how you come on Daddy’s cock.”
His cock feels bigger than ever, and I cry out, as he fucks me hard into his waiting hand, so my clit
gets all the pressure it needs.
The full-body tremors explode from my core, clamping and squeezing Ben’s thick cock as he
grunts his load into me. My eyes want to close, but I fight to keep them open, to watch his friends
fucking their hands and spurting cum into the creek. We’re all sharing our pleasure, and I feel so loved
and important that I’m definitely going to want to do this again.
Ben and I are downstream, and all I can think about is that cum flowing to meet us. I could be
covered in the cum of five different men — I could lower my mouth to the water and drink them all
in.
Another twitching quake rocks through me, as Ben fondles my asshole, and his muttered praise
thrills me right to the heart. He thrusts into me a few more times as his cock softens, and then I’m
collected into his arms and washed with tender hands, as the others finish scrubbing up and get out of
the creek to dry off.
By the time Ben’s carried me back to the cabin, dressed me, and led me to the campfire, a wild-
turkey dinner has been made for us, and everyone’s laughing and telling stories about all the things
they used to get up to as kids. I don’t have any brothers myself, but I imagine that’s almost what these
guys are to each other.
I feed the baby again, and as she falls asleep at my breast, a comfortable and sleepy hush falls
over our group. It’s been a long day, and it’s time to turn in.
Gunnar settles baby Viv into the portable crib Jason set up for her in the bunkhouse, where they’ll
all be sleeping. Daryl puts some white noise on his phone, to help her sleep well, and Vince gets
weirdly father-like, ensuring everyone’s done their teeth, while Ben makes sure they’ve got
everything they need for the night.
Despite the lengthy time between get-togethers, they seem really close. They actually care about
each other, and it’s nice to have such warm and friendly company.
I’ve had a wonderful day, and as I begin to feel very sleepy myself, I can’t help but hope for these
hunting trips to happen more often.
I think we’ve all enjoyed this one a lot, so maybe they will.
 CHAPTER SIX

B en’sIcurled up, facing me. He kisses my nose and runs his fingers down my spine.
wriggle in response to the tickling down my bare back but don’t open my eyes. “Hmm?” I
ask sleepily.
“My friends have enjoyed your company, Maggie, and it’s not because you’re the hottest set of
little fuck-holes they’ve ever had the privilege of seeing come.”
My smile at the provocative statement is automatic, and I open my eyes to see Ben’s sparkling at
me.
“It was nice, being able to share with my friends how crazy in love with you I am,” he whispers
before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
“Ben.” It comes out a little whiny, and he rumbles at me through the dimness.
“I mean it, Maggie. I love you so fucking much, and if you let me, I’m going to give you everything
you could ever want.”
He sounds so serious I sit up in bed and turn on the lamp. “What’s on your mind, Daddy?”
“Tell me the truth, Maggie. Did you like taking care of little Vivvy today?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Did you like how it felt to have a baby at your breast?”
His eyes bore into mine, and I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“Do you want to raise babies with me?”
I press my lips together as I look away, but Ben takes my chin in his fingers and directs my gaze
back to him. “Don’t think about the how. Just tell me honestly. Do you want to have babies?”
I gulp down the ache in my throat at what may happen if I say yes. Will he break up with me, so I
can go find that life with someone else? “I want to stay with you, Daddy. Forever.”
Ben smiles sadly and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I appreciate that, baby girl. It’s what I want,
too, but would you please answer the dang question? If I could fuck a baby into you tomorrow, would
you want it?”
I nod my head. “Yes. You’re kind and loving and firm but fair. You always made time for me when
I was a kid. And since I came back to find you, once I was grown. You always make me feel special
when the rest of the world doesn’t even care, and I love you so much it hurts to think about not being
with you. You’re a wonderful man and an amazing father figure, and I’d love to make babies with
you.”
Ben wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb and kisses me again. “I’d like that too, sweetness.
Seeing you with a baby today, I… You’re a natural, Maggie. You’re everything your mother never
was, which is a big reason I never asked her to marry me.”
 Confused, I stare at him a moment, and then shake my head. “Huh?”
Ben climbs out of bed, to get down on one knee. “Maggie, my sweet, sweet girl, you’re kind and
loving. You’re curious and fun, and you ride like a fucking dream. I want to spend the rest of my life
with you, and I want it to be official, but I haven’t proposed yet because I couldn’t be sure if you
really wanted the same things as me or if you were just saying so, to please your daddy. Plus, I’m still
saving for the wedding, the honeymoon, and a ring that’s pretty enough for my gorgeous girl.”
I leap from the bed and sit on his raised knee, sealing my mouth over his so hard we would’ve
fallen backwards if Ben wasn’t so strong and stable.
“That’s the surprise we’re saving for?” I ask breathlessly when I pull back.
Ben wets his swollen lips. “Mm-hm.” He kisses my grinning mouth with a moan and lifts me back
onto the bed. His full weight presses me to the mattress, making me feel small and vulnerable as he
ravages me. He slides his bulky body downward and spreads my legs, to lap at my tenderized pussy
with gentle, teasing licks, until he pulls away and leaves me wanting more.
“I can tell you like Daddy’s plan, but we need to get serious about some things, baby girl,” he
says. “If we’re going to have a baby, it’s going to cost a lot of money — upfront. I’ve done some
research, and it may be possible for me to become a father, but it’ll take some expensive procedures,
to check if I’ve got anything viable to offer sperm-wise. It’ll cost more again to retrieve anything I
have, and we’ll probably need a lot of help to get pregnant with it. It’s possible we’ll need a donor,
but that costs more again.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Right now, we almost have enough put away for the
first round of investigations… but it would mean a tiny diamond for your ring, a courthouse wedding,
and maybe no honeymoon at all.”
A deep frown creases his brow, as I feel my face begin to crumble. “Maggie, I don’t want to spoil
your dream of a pretty dress and that trip to Disneyland we always wanted to take, but I wouldn’t
want to take away your dreams of becoming a mom, either. I want to do all the things, but I want you
to take some time to think, and then tell me what you want most, so we can make that happen first.
There’s no wrong answer, okay? Sound good?”
Crying all over again, I nod and wrap my arms around his neck. “Daddy, I love you so much.
You’re such a good man.”
“I love you too, baby girl. Now come snuggle up and get some sleep. You’ve had a big day,
learning lots of new things about yourself, and you’re not the only one.”
I lift my gaze to his, surprised.
Ben snorts softly and runs his hand over my hair. “It was so fucking hot, showing you off to the
guys, Maggie. I was not expecting to like sharing you that way so fucking much, but you’re so
beautiful when you embrace your desires. There was no holding back for anyone. We were all swept
up in your pleasure and mighty happy to be part of it.”
I smile into his chest, as he pulls me in closer. “I had a really good time, Daddy. Thank you for
helping me understand my body and for taking such good care of me today.”
“My pleasure, baby girl. Quiet now. It’s time to rest.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I close my eyes and sink into my satisfied body, grateful for all I have.
Ben wants to marry me and have kids. It’s exactly what I used to dream about when I was younger.
He was so kind to me, and I wanted to live in the glow of his love forever. We’ve been living as
lovers for nearly a year now, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. Fully grown and no longer at the
whim of my mother and her turbulent and notoriously regrettable decisions, I’m finally able to live as
I please — loved by Daddy Ben in the wild freedom of this homestead.
 My mind sifts through Ben’s words about choosing an order of marriage or babies, and no matter
how I think about it, I want everything right now. If I told Ben that, he’d raise an eyebrow and tease
me about always seeking instant gratification — which I do. Who doesn’t? Who in their right mind
would choose to wait for their heart’s desires if it was possible to have them immediately?
Around and around in circles I go, until I decide I’ll have to figure out how to do everything as
soon as possible. Ben’s always encouraging me to admit my desires and chase them, so that’s what
I’ll do, and no sooner have I put my mind to the task, than do the ideas start bubbling up.
I listen to Ben’s deep breathing and let it lull me into a dreamy state. As I drift off, I return to my
long-held fantasy of being down in the barn on the milking machine, while Ben artificially
inseminates my womb by fucking super-fertile sperm into me with his big dick.
I slide my legs together, to contain the growing warmth between them and snuggle closer to Ben.
The prospect of that fantasy coming true didn’t seem realistic until now, and my thoughts turn to sperm
donors in a way they never have before.
I can’t escape the image of Ben’s friends, shooting their loads for me at the creek today and the
thoughts I’d had about their cum, traveling downstream to get me.
Ben trusts them, and he knows their history — which is what we’d need to know about a donor —
and I like the idea of keeping things in the family. Maybe finding viable sperm won’t be as pricy as
Ben thinks.
I’ll have to talk to him about it, but I wonder if anyone would be up for a group discussion in the
morning.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

B en gazes up at me, as he suckles firmly at my breast.

He’s got his thinking face on. His arching eyebrow has lifted perfectly into position, and I try
to pin it in back down with my finger as I smile.
“Obviously, you’d be the boss, and we wouldn’t do anything if it upset anybody. I want you to be
happy too, Daddy.”
Ben’s cock strains against me, as I whisper his pet name, and he tugs at my breast a little harder,
swallowing more often.
We’re saving my other, full breast for Vivvy. She’ll be up soon, I’m sure.
“What do you think?” I ask.
Ben releases his suction and lets my rouged and swollen nipple slide from his mouth before
wetting his lips and clearing his throat. “You only want a simple wedding band?”
I nod and wiggle my fingers at him. “Anything more would only get in the way or scratch the
baby.”
His lips twitch, but he keeps his smile in it check as he tilts his head to the side and studies my
face. “And you’ll be happy if the only ceremony you have is me, buying you a new sundress and
maybe taking you out to dinner, after the court approves our marriage license?”
“Mm-hm,” I agree, fluttering my lashes at him. “It’s the marrying that’s important to me, not a
fancy dress or a party. I’ll even let you save on underwear by not wearing any, but if we go out for
dinner, you have to buy me steak.”
Ben shakes a little with quiet laughter, as he sweeps my messy hair back from my face. “I’ll buy
you whatever kind of dinner you like, and I’ll buy steak for our whole fucking family once we’ve
saved enough to take all our babies to Disneyland with us.”
All our babies?
He’s seriously thinking we could do this multiple times?
I bite my lip, to keep from grinning too wide. “Disneyland will definitely be more fun if we go
with our kids. We don’t need an expensive honeymoon. You can fuck me all you want right here,
anytime.”
Ben brushes his thumb over my crushed lips, as he hums in agreement, then pulls my face closer
with his big hand, so he can kiss me. “About all these babies we’re going to have…?” He presses his
forehead to mine and looks deep into my eyes.
I know he wishes he could impregnate me without help, and I reach down, to give his enormous
balls a reassuring little squeeze, as I steal another quick kiss.
“We pay for the tests, to see if we can use whatever sperm you do have, and we make our next
decision from there. If we need a donor… I was thinking maybe we could ask your friends?” My
voice gets a little squeaky as I say the word friends, and Ben’s eyebrow jumps back up his forehead.
He says nothing for a long time, and then gives a rough grunt. “I guess we wouldn’t have to think
about what kind of jerk a donor might be otherwise, and if they agreed to help us out, it may not cost
much at all.” He scratches at his beard. “If any of them will donate, we may be able to do it right
here. They swing by, make a deposit, and I get it into you before it’s cold.”
“Would you fuck it into me?” I gasp at how eagerly the words fall out, and then cover my mouth in
a rush.
Ben smiles with one side of his mouth, as he peels my hand away from my lips. “Do you want me
to fuck it into you, Maggie?”
Heat flushes my face as I nod, and Ben grins as he strokes my burning cheeks. His gaze roams
over my restless, alert body, and he tweaks one of my peaked nipples. “Mmm… You’re going to make
the sweetest, kinkiest little wife. Aren’t you, baby girl?”
“I sure hope so,” I reply with a wink. I bounce off the bed and pull on my denim cutoffs. “You
want to come watch me feed the baby, Daddy?”
“You know I fucking do, beautiful.” Ben pulls on his jeans and follows me out into the yard,
where the sun’s rising.
Daryl stretches with a huge yawn as he steps out of the bunkhouse. “I do not miss roosters
crowing or early morning,” he says to someone behind him before looking our way and freezing mid-
step. “Although I could get used to sights like this, first thing. Good morning, half-naked Maggie and
Ben.”
Ben drapes his arm across my bare shoulders and smiles. “Country-living at its best, my friend.
Clothing’s optional. Where’s that baby at? I can hear her howling for titties, and I saved her one.” Ben
swivels and cranes his head around. “Ah. Here they come. What are you doing, Gun?”
Gunnar lunge-walks his way toward us with his baby girl strapped to his chest. “I’m getting my
workout in. Viv likes to keep moving, and she enjoys the constant changes in altitude,” he explains as
he switches to squats. His gaze lands on my breasts, and he sucks in his bottom lip. “Good morning
Maggie. Ben. Maggie’s breasts. Fuck.” He adjusts the bulging cock in his shorts and extracts the baby
from her carrying pouch.
Ben chuckles and reaches for the baby. “Are you sure you’re not exercising because you have a
certain kind of energy you need to burn off, Gun?”
Gunnar sticks one hand inside his shorts, to rearrange his situation there, as his other arm reaches
behind him in a stretch. “No comment. But I love the way your girl’s got no issues about letting it all
hang out.”
“Who’s letting it all hang out?” Jason arrives in the bunkhouse doorway, fully naked.
“Um… you?” I suggest with a smile, taking the baby from Ben. “I’m only topless.” Vivvy
basically throws herself at me, so I try latching her on right where I stand. She goes for it, and a few
seconds later, my brain is blissed out with happy chemicals from the feeding.
“That is… a fucking delightful talent, Maggie,” Jason says with a sigh, as he fondles his plumping
cock.
Ben looks my way with a proud smile, before his face gets all serious and he turns back to his
friends. “Seeing as how y’all enjoy the show so much, maybe you’d consider donating some of the
proceeds one day?”
“Huh?” Vince finally joins us. The considerable bulge in his jeans also shifts at the sight of me,
nursing the baby, but he doesn’t bother adjusting it. There probably isn’t any point, and he knows it —
some dicks are just too big to hide.
Ben glances at me and clears his throat. “Maggie and I re-lit the campfire on our way here, so we
can talk while we’re cooking breakfast. We’d like to ask y’all a favor, but it’s a big one, so we need
you to really think about it.”

THE FOUR OF them stare at us, dumbfounded.

“You want us to donate sperm?” Jason asks, giving us a strange sideways look.
Ben and I nod. “If mine turns out to be as faulty as my doctor’s always suspected, yes,” he says.
Daryl scratches his head, as he looks between us. “Donate… like at a clinic? Whack off in a room
where hundreds of other guys whacked off before you, over the same old porn?”
Ben meets my gaze and shakes his head. “We’d prefer it if you’d swing by and provide your
sample to us directly.”
“How directly?” Vince sizes me up. “I don’t think I’d fit.”
I shiver at the thought of being stretched the way I was when Ben was breaking me in, and Ben
doesn’t miss my body’s cues.
“Uh… our first thought was that you’d come here to empty your balls, and then I’d basically
turkey-baster it into Maggie,” he says. “But better — you could bring your own porn. Or maybe we
could provide the entertainment. Maggie?”
I’m already nodding. “I’d like that.”
“You want one of us to be the dad?” Jason looks uncomfortable. “I… I don’t want any kids, Ben.
You know that.”
“I would be the dad,” Ben informs everyone in a tone that brooks no argument. “Only me. We’re
not asking you to co-parent, Jase. We’re asking for seeds, not more gardeners.”
“Oh.” Visibly relaxing, he nods. “Then I have no issue with it. How much do you need?”
Gunnar clears his throat loudly and raises his hand, as if in a classroom. “I’d happily donate, but
if I knew I’d fathered a kid, I’d want to be part of their life. I mean, if you use my sperm at the right
time, and then nine months later you have a baby, I’m going to know it’s me who made it, right? If that
happens, I… I don’t think I could stay away,” he admits quietly as he leans closer, to stroke Viv’s
curls as she feeds.
“What if there’s a way you can’t know it’s your seed that takes?” Vince asks in a thoughtful tone.
“What if we all donate, and Ben uses it all that same day? There’d be no way you could ever be sure
without a test, so if you could live with the idea of not testing and accepting this would be Maggie and
Ben’s child… Could you do it then? For your friend, who has always wanted to be a father?” He
smiles at Ben and I. “I’d love to help your dreams come true.”
Gunnar leans back in his chair, as he studies Ben. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. I’m in. If you
can do the mix-up thing, I won’t ever try to lay claim.”
All gazes shift to Daryl, who leans forward, staring into the flames. “Have you two thought this
through properly?” he asks. “I mean, you can’t just pump Maggie full of cum and see what happens.
You have to be measured about it and plan things out. There’s a reason these things are done in
clinics, right? You’ll have to wait till Maggie’s ovulating, to improve your chances of conceiving. If
we’re all donating, we’ll need to coordinate schedules, so they line up with that. There are a lot of
moving parts, you know?”
 He lifts his gaze, to scan the group. “We’re all single right now, so there are no other women to
consider in the equation, but if anyone gets into anything serious, we’d reserve the right to pull out.
And if anyone did anything casual in between fertility cycles, they’d need to be tested and clean and
all that. There’s no form of protection when you’re making babies, guys. We need to keep Ben’s girl
safe, while we get her in the family way.”
My face warms, and I can’t help my smile. “Thank you for thinking about that, Daryl. And thank
you all, for supporting us. Depending on Ben’s results, it may not be necessary, but it’d be really nice
if we could see you all more often, anyway. Ben and I really enjoy your company, and I have
something else I’d like to ask, if it’s not too much.”
“We’d do quite a bit for you and Ben, so let’s hear it.” Jason gesture with his fingers, for me to
spit it out.
“Will you all come to the courthouse with us when we get married?” I ask. “And have dinner with
us after? It’s not going to be a big wedding, when our savings will be needed for fertility tests, but
we’d love it if you’d all celebrate our love with us.”
“Aw.” Big Vince covers his mouth as he nods and acts as if he’s not about to cry. “I’d love to
come.” His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat before speaking in a much deeper, more
masculine tone. “If we go hunting beforehand, we could do a spit-roast over an open fire.”
I feel my eyes widen. “That would be so romantic. I was thinking steak dinner in town, but open
flames and partying into the night at home, sweet home? That’s so much better. Ooh. Y’all could drink
and not have to worry about the drive. Maybe I could have a drink too?” I look at Ben with pleading
eyes. “Can we do that, Daddy?” I ask, hoping he’ll understand how curious I am, when I’ve never had
a drop of alcohol.
The others offer cheers of agreement, while Ben stares at me as if I’m some wondrous being. I
heat up under his gaze, and butterflies take flight in my belly. His gaze dips to the baby suckling at my
breast, then lifts to my face, and he sweeps my long hair behind my ear.
“We can do whatever makes you happy, baby girl.”
Beaming at him, and then at each of the others, I feel my heart swell with happiness. “Thank you.
All of you. It’s been wonderful to finally meet Ben’s good, true friends. I can’t wait to get organized.”
 CHAPTER EIGHT

I wake up to my ass cheeks being spread wide, and Ben’s cool, slippery fingers sliding around my
asshole. A hard, slim object pushes inside, breaching any resistance with ease, and I shudder with
surprise as I moan. “Daddy.”
Usually, I’m awake before we do this new daily activity. What got into Ben today?
“According to our predictive records, today’s a good day for ovulation,” he informs me, as he
slides the probing thermometer back and forth a bit. “If your temperature confirms it, I’m going to
make your sweet little cunt a mess,” he teases, as he works it deeper until the thick bulb at the end
nudges up against my puckered ring and makes me want to squirm.
He gives my ass a playful swat, making me clench. “Uh-uh. Keep still, Maggie.”
I do my best to obey, but even after the thermometer beeps, he doesn’t remove it. Instead, he takes
his time, recording the results and making over-emphasized hmm sounds, as if he’s a very thorough
doctor, making a critical diagnosis. There’s a slight curl to his lips, as he adjusts the thermometer
again, so I’m beginning to suspect it’s a game. I surrender myself to his care and do my best to please
him, because it’s nice, seeing him in a lighter mood.
All the medical investigations confirmed that Ben impregnating me on his own, is highly
improbable — as we’d suspected. I think we were both were holding out hope for a different result.
The difference in thinking you know something and actually knowing it has been unexpectedly harsh
to deal with. Reality hits harder than an idea, and although Ben’s put on a brave face, it’s been
difficult to watch his grief as he comes to terms with truly never being able to biologically father his
own children.
I love him so much, and I hate seeing him unhappy, which is why I’ll play any naughty game he
wants to play, and I’ll let him control as many aspects of the baby-making process as he can.
I slide my top leg higher, to give him better access and to entice him further with my gushing
pussy. I always get so wet when he plays with my ass. “Is everything okay with me, Dr. Daddy?”
“Hmm…” His tone suggests that he’s deeply worried. He adjusts the thermometer in my ass,
watching me squirm some more before he pulls it out to glance at it and set it aside. “It’s my
professional opinion that my baby girl is one very hot and fertile young lady today. I have several
colleagues on standby, who are eager to offer their input, and I’ll call them now if you consent to
further treatment. So... do you want to make a baby today, sweet girl?”
My heart breaks into a gallop, and I practically leap into his lap. I loop my arms around his neck
and jiggle my full, heavy breasts at him, the way he loves. “Really? We can start today?”
“Your body’s saying yes, baby, but I need you to tell me with your mouth. You definitely want to
go through with this?”
 Nodding like a bobble-head, I grin at him. “Yes, Daddy. Please fuck some seed into me, so we can
make our baby.”
Ben groans, as his cock strains beneath me. “Can’t wait until the guys get here. Need you now.”
He sinks his big fingers into my hips and lifts me to force my wet cunt down hard onto his thick
cock.
The air rushes out of me on a moan, and I rock against my big man, as I adjust to the stretched-full
feeling. “Feels so good, Daddy.”
“You’re so beautiful when you’re happy, Maggie. And your tits are so fucking swollen with
milk… They’re huge, and I want them bouncing.”
His biceps bulge, as he grips me firmly and drives my body up and down his thick shaft. Using his
strength and desire to take control of my body, he pumps his massive cock in and out of me hard and
fast, so the impact of our fucking jostles my ready-to-burst tits about. Unapologetically obsessed, he
devours the movement of my swollen breasts with his gaze, and I adore being the reason for the
sparkle of wonder in his eyes.
He grips my ass to grind me closer, and my clit lights up, as my nipples begin to tingle. It’s been a
whole long night since I was last milked. My heavy breasts are so full they’ve risen high and proud,
and my skin has pulled so tight and tender, I feel every delicious bounce with heightened sensitivity.
A needy ache, much like that in my core, builds in my breasts as Ben thrusts and grinds into me, I
can’t help but fall apart. I contract around his cock, and he grunts his release into me as I squeeze it
from him.
Milk drips from my breasts as I come, and Ben’s cock strains and pulses more cum inside me as
he watches. As soon as my core settles, he latches on to my breast and tugs, sending more ripples of
pleasure skating through my insides. I’m so perfectly fucked I can barely keep myself upright, and he
lowers me back to the mattress, keeping his cock inside me as he suckles and nurses more quivering
aftershocks from my limp body.
I’m trembling, as his tender care induces several more sweet spasms to squeeze his cock, and he
hums in approval before licking and nipping his way to my other breast, to ease the ache there. By the
time he’s done, I can barely open my eyes, but I feel the press of his lips to my forehead.
“That’s my good girl. Rest some more, while I get things organized. You’ve got a big day ahead,
and you’re going to want to conserve your energy.”

I CAN ’ T TELL if I’m more nervous or excited.

My insides are wildly giddy with the thought of today’s potential, and I’m dragging out my chores,
to keep my mind off counting the minutes until our friends arrive for the big event. I feel so alive and
free, and I’m on the cusp of having all my dreams come true.
Ben and I are about to start a real little family on our homestead in the mountains.
The summer sun is high in the sky, and it’s warm on my bare back as I weed the vegetable garden.
It’s a beautiful day to be impregnated.
I want to raise babies with Ben so badly, and the entire process has gotten me madly aroused.
Taking five men’s semen in one afternoon? My brain knows I’m not getting fucked by them all, but I
can’t help my excitement about the outcome being the same, and that the guys are going to watch Ben
plant their seeds. Apparently, they’re looking forward to it as much as I am — which only adds to my
eagerness.
I don’t know what it is, about having bigger, older men delighted by my young body that burns me
up inside with need, but contrasts add an undeniable element of delight. Age gaps and size differences
are definitely my thing. I squeeze my thighs together, as I think about them seeing their cum dripping
from my pussy once big Daddy Ben fucks it into me.
A shiver runs through me, as my core clenches, and not for the first time, I have to admit that
maybe my level of sexual need might be unusual. I literally feel horny all the time, and I’m not sure
I’m meant to be turned on by the things that rev my engines, but I can’t help it. I mean, I’m even
aroused by the equipment Ben’s gathered for the task. Who gets excited by a big, thick syringe, soft
tubing, and the cock rings he plans to wear, to hold that tube in place as he pumps me full of—
Actually, the studded cock-ring thing must be relatively normal, since they make them. What will
they feel like on Daddy’s big cock?
Unable to curb my endless curiosity, I’ve bombarded my knowledgeable mountain daddy with
every question that’s come to mind about how things will happen, and Ben’s answered every single
one with patience, amusement, encouragement, and a sexually charged interest that lets me know
we’re both incredibly excited by all of this.
He soon joins me in the garden, and his every movement seems exaggerated and restless, as if he
can’t wait for what’s coming either. He works nearby, but not close enough to easily touch me, and he
can hardly keep his eyes off me. My full breasts attract his gaze constantly, as I weed the rows on my
hands and knees, and I like to lift my ass every now and then, so he can see up my short skirt and
know he’s not the only one insanely ready for a hard fuck. His responding growl is always a thrill.
“Baby girl, if you flash that glistening cunt at me one more time, I’ll spank it.”
I lower my head with a moan, as I present my tail to him again.
Ben mutters several fucks under his breath and lunges at me. His tongue is thick and wide, as he
collects my juices in a way that makes me feel fucking delicious. A sharp slap lights up my skin and
ignites my core, before he pushes me into the dirt and mounts me from behind.
His thick cock pushes inside me and gives two aggressive pumps, before he pulls out and leaves
me empty.
“Daddy.”
He pulls me to my knees and strokes my chin. “Suck your slick from my cock, and then put it back
in my jeans, needy girl. No coming until later, when you’re full of cum.”
I do as I’m told, purposely edging him as close to pleasure as he’ll let me. He rumbles as he
smiles, and then he tucks his hard cock away himself, so I can’t take things any further. “We’re both
waiting until you’re full of cum.”
Licking my lips clean, I rub my clit through my skirt. “How much cum will there be, Daddy?”
Ben stills my self-pleasuring attempt before trapping my hands at my sides. “Enough, Maggie.
There will be enough. Everyone’s been saving themselves for the task, to maximize our efforts, and
you will too. No fucking touching yourself until I make you come so hard you suck that baby batter
right up into your womb. You promised.”
I shift restlessly and try to get myself under control, but the sheer thrill of anticipation is killing
me. I can’t stop thinking about what lies ahead. “How much is enough?”
Ben chuckles. “Plenty. More than your pretty little cunt can handle.”
My enthusiasm about that is undeniable, and he grins before he switches from dirty talking me to
using more factual words that shouldn’t turn me on, but definitely still do. “If the guys each produce
an average amount of semen, there could be about five tablespoons’ worth of ejaculate in total,
gorgeous.”
I know baking, and that’s about a third of a cup. That’s for five average men, but I’ve seen those
guys naked. If the size of their balls is anything to go by, not one of them is average, and they could fill
a lot more than a tablespoon each. There is going to be plenty. It’s going to overflow, for sure.
“I’m thinking we’ll use your milking frame on the highest tilt setting to keep your ass raised. That
way, gravity won’t make all that seed just dribble right back out again. I’ll keep you there a while, but
I’ll give you a good rubdown once we’re done and make sure you’re comfortable.”
Ben caresses my cheek, and then bends to kiss the tip of my nose. “I’m going to go double-check
that I’ve got everything set up. The guys will be here soon, and I can’t look at your pretty eyes and
watch your horny little jitters for another second, without wanting to start early.”
He walks away with a swagger in his hips that makes me want to tackle him from behind, roll him
over, and ride him. I am so ready for today’s events.
I’ve watched Ben use straws of bull semen to inseminate his cows, and he knows how wet I got
when we talked about doing everything as if I was livestock, but he seems to believe there’s a better
chance of me conceiving if I come, so he won’t be treating me as if I’m one of his cows. He always
has his own way of doing things, and if he says my pleasure is key to the success of this procedure,
then not only do I trust he’ll do what needs to be done, I’m also all for it!
I’m looking forward to it so much, and I’m already desperate to come, but I’ll hold it. Being
forbidden to touch myself is driving me to breaking point, but earlier today, Ben promised to reward
my obedience. He said he’ll make me come so hard his friends will want to donate twice when they
see it happen. I want all the seed I can get, to improve our chances of someone’s taking root, but
thinking about the guys, enjoying the sight of me that much? It makes me feel beautiful and powerful. I
want to be that desired.
Ben’s also delayed my afternoon milking, so my tits are swollen and throbbing with readiness.
They’ll be fucking huge, for all to see, when the guys show up, which we’re hoping they’ll appreciate.
We didn’t get them any porn to watch, opting instead for a live show. That will be more enjoyable for
everyone involved, since we’re providing their spurting incentive by letting them watch Ben pumping
me with the milking machine while he fucks me.
I can’t stop thinking about it, and by the time I hear Vince’s truck rumbling up our driveway, with
the guys hooting and hollering out the windows, I’m so achy with need my thighs are slick with it.
 CHAPTER NINE

B en strides toward the truck full of our baby-making team with a determined pace that shows his
eagerness to get started, and I practically trip over my feet as I rush to greet them.
Vince looks between him and me and gives a deep, throaty chuckle. “Looks like our favorite
couple want to get this show on the road in a hurry.”
Daryl climbs out of the back seat and adjusts his crotch. “Lucky for them, a month without pussy
has left me fucking ready to blow. I couldn’t think of anything else all the way here, and watching
Maggie’s swollen tits bounce around like a fucking naked Baywatch special just now was the icing on
the cake. I can’t speak for the others, but I’m locked and loaded. Where do you want this shit, Ben?”
“I second the quick release,” Gunnar agrees as he get out of the other side. “I’m curious as hell
about this whole milking situation, and with no baby Viv with me this time, I’m going to enjoy the shit
out of this.”
Ben grins as he hugs his friends and thanks them for making the trip. I greet them as warmly as I
can, but have to settle for a wave instead of hugs. My breasts are getting sore and over-sensitive, and
the thought of them, being crushed against these guys, makes me whimper.
Ben takes my hand and rescues me by inserting himself between me and the men.
“Maggie will have to hug y’all later. I’ve left her too long without being milked, so we’re headed
to the barn now, if you want to come watch her find some relief. Feel free to find your own relief in
the containers provided. To keep biology a mystery, I’ll wait until we have a sample from everyone,
and then I’ll draw up a mixed batch and fuck it into Maggie. Any questions? Everyone still on
board?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?” Jason says, already heading for the barn. “And let’s be honest, we’re
fucking excited about it. This falls under the category of a good time had by all. Not everybody gets to
take so much pleasure from helping out their friends.”
“It’s true,” Vince says, as everyone falls into step following Jason. “This is the kind of shit people
fantasize about but almost never get to do in real life, so really, it feels as though we should be
thanking you two.”
“Well, we’re grateful for your contribution, and I’m really looking forward to the whole process
too,” I confess. “Having you all here is way more exciting than if I had to get poked and prodded at in
some strange doctor’s office with a random guy’s sperm. This is a hot way to get knocked up, but
that? Not so much. I’m wide open to receiving this gift from y’all, but even thinking about the
alternative makes my uterus want to go in defense mode.”
Ben rumbles softly and trails his fingers down my bare back, making me shiver as my milking
frame comes into view. He’s set up outside in the sun, where there’s lots of space and light for
everyone to see. He curls his fingers curl into the fabric of my short skirt and tugs it to the dirty
ground, leaving it there as he leads me over to the cushioned support structure he made specially for
me, nearly a year ago.
“Get your wide-open for receiving, fertile little ass up there, so I can show you off. The guys want
to see how wet you get when you’re milked. They want to know how much you like being watched,
and how needy you are for the cum they want to give you.” He sends me on my way with a swift slap
on my ass that gets my blood pumping.
I try not to rush, as I climb onto my frame, but I’m too excited, and I want everyone to know it. My
full breasts hang down, and when I slip my feet into the stirrups, my ass lifts high and open in
welcome for their investigation. I’m already gushing, and I want them in awe of my sexual appetite —
and just as hungry as I am. I want to give them a good time, because I know I’m going to be having
fun, and the more fun they have, the more they’ll come, and that will mean more chances for me and
Ben to have a baby.
My breasts sway huge and heavy, ready for the milking cups. I have my own special set now,
because several months back, Ben ordered custom parts, and then put them together himself just for
me, so they’re perfect. He always makes sure I’ve got everything I could ever want, which is why
he’s now adjusting my frame to raise my back end higher, and why he’s spread my stirrups wider so
my wet pussy is on full display. He knows I want it like this — that I want to be a spectacle as much
as an object of desire, as I’m impregnated.
I told him he could touch me any way he wanted to in front of his friends, and I’m so glad I did. I
feel like a prize cow he’s trying to sell, as he invites his friends to view the most intimate parts of me.
He spreads my ass cheeks wide with his large hands, and offers for everyone to inspect my tight little
fuck-holes, and he sounds so proud of me and the way my body responds to his words and his gentle
touch.
He’s left me wanting all day, and I’m so ready for this fuck I could scream, but I also love the way
he enjoys dragging out my pleasure until I become crazed by it. I’ll do absolutely anything when I get
in that state, and he may want to show off his skills in getting me there.
My juices slick his thick fingers, and he pushes three inside my pussy, spreading them after entry,
to stretch me even more as I pant and whimper. I can’t see any of the guys, so they must be behind me,
getting a good look at Ben making me gape.
My pussy flutters around his fingers, and he grunts in approval. “My girl loves a good stretch.
Don’t you, Maggie?” He pulls his fingers pull out and slaps my ass, leaving arousal-wet fingerprints
on my skin. A subtle breeze brings them to life, and another needy mewl escapes my throat. “Ready
for milking time, sweet girl?” he asks.
I nod, as my body tries to rock in willingness, but the milking frame is made in a way that keeps
me held fast. By its very design, it restricts my movements and leaves me vulnerable to any approach
Ben wants to make. This is half the fun. Not knowing what he’s going to do to me, while also being
sure he’s going to play with me till I come, is a thrill I won’t ever tire of.
He strokes a steady hand along my back, and then he spreads my pussy lips wide and finds my clit
with his fingertips. “I can’t hear you, baby girl.”
Gasping at the sudden pleasurable pressure, I buck, wanting more, but locked in place, I only
succeed in making a slight clanging noise. I’m at Ben’s mercy, and everyone knows it.
I hang my head in submission, and Ben works my pussy, until I sound filthy-wet, and I’m moaning
at the sensation he’s stoking deep in my core.
“Please milk me, Daddy,” I beg, needing the relief it’ll bring not only to my aching breasts, but
also to the rest of my body, as it lures him one step closer to fucking me.
Ben comes to crouch beside me and makes soft soothing sounds as he strokes one of my firm,
over-full breasts.
Gunnar appears beside him, watching everything with great interest. His sweatpants are
delightfully tented, and his specimen cup is gripped firmly in his hand. His blanched knuckles and
intense gaze remind me of the way Ben sometimes grips his cock when he’s trying not to come.
My pussy twitches at the thought, and someone behind me moans.
“She’s so fucking responsive.” Daryl comes into view with no shirt on, his jeans open, and his
cock in his hand. “What did you just do?”
“We’re getting started,” Ben replies, massaging my hard breast, and then tugging at my nipple to
encourage some milk from me. “Maggie’s tits are too full. They’re swollen tight, so I need to milk her
a bit by hand first, or the suction cups won’t have the right surface tension to attach.”
He pulls the milk from me, squirting at the ground until he slides the cool milking cup into place
on the softening breast tissue. It tugs my nipple downward in firm, repetitive pulls, and I moan at the
relief it brings. My other nipple is strain to prickle and soon a few drops fall to the grass.
Gunnar utters an impressed and guttural fuuuuuck and slips his hand inside his pants.
Ben gives me a wink, and then teases me with the suction of the second cup, drawing my milk
forth until I’m spraying into the cup, and my breast is soft enough for it to suction into place. He sets
the pump line gently swinging, and my pussy ripples, as the weight and sway and steady suction
rhythm of the milking cups prime my body for pleasure.
“She’s fucking gushing.” Jason quickly appears in front of me, taking everything in. “I couldn’t
fully believe you guys until I saw it with my own eyes, but you really like this, don’t you, Maggie?
Being held in place like Ben’s sweet, young, house cow makes you want to come.”
Pressing my lips together, I glance down to where the milking cups are pumping my breasts. I do
look very cow-like, and part of me loves that. Ben takes good care of his stock, and I feel treasured
when he cares for me, too, but the sensation of being milked brings a kind of pleasure I can’t properly
explain to a man.
It’s about the tugging on my teats, to extract something so nurturing and productive from my
breasts, and the way lactation has visibly developed my body into something round and feminine that
pleases both me and my man. Not to mention the way getting milked makes me feel both alive and on
fire, as a sexual creature who craves my mountain daddy’s massive cock.
My core quivers again.
“It makes me want to come so hard.” I’m replying to Jason, but I’m looking at Ben, as his eyes
smolder at me. “Please make me come, Daddy.”
He leans close and kisses my bare shoulder, as a low hum rumbles from his chest. “Soon, baby
girl. The guys need to come first, today. Shall we make them come now?”
I’m nodding before he’s done asking, and it makes him smile.
“Always up for anything, aren’t you, my sweet?” He nips my shoulder, and then stands to full
height to slowly unbutton his jeans in front of my face. “You want to suck Daddy’s cock?”
I nod faster, and he chuckles. “Let me get it wet first,” he says.
Ben walks behind me, and the three men in front of me move closer, to watch him shove his
massive cock inside me. My breath oofs out of me, and Ben withdraws almost all the way before
easing himself in at a more leisurely pace. “Mmm… You’re especially fucking wet today, gorgeous.
The guys can see and hear everything, and your sweet little cunt is so fucking pretty, all shiny and
stretched around my cock.”
 Intentionally unhurried, he thrusts steadily, fucking me in slow motion and winding me tighter and
tighter with his words as he teases me with just a taste of what we could be doing.
“Good girl, getting so fucking tight. Make it even harder to push Daddy’s big cock inside your
little cunt.”
It’s easy to obey. Everything feels so good, but I’m never given enough to feel satisfied, so the
tension inside me keeps rising.
It’s maddening to know I’ll get what I want, but not when or how. I want relief now, but no matter
what I say to provoke Ben into a deeper, harder fuck, he continues at his own infuriatingly steady pace
until I’m begging him for more. Which is when he pulls out altogether and comes to stand in front of
me.
“Suck,” he commands, pushing his cock between my lips before I can object — not that I would. I
love to please him, and sucking my arousal from his cock is something that drives us both wild.
I stretch my lips taut around his shaft, and he sets the milking cups swinging as he fucks my face in
front of his friends.
“Just like that. Such a good fucking girl.” His praise lights me up, and I double my efforts to
please him even more. I want to make him come, but I only succeed in showing everyone how much I
love sucking Ben’s cock.
It’s as if he’s demonstrating how many different ways I love to be fucked by him, and when the
other guys start making noise about how fucking hot it is, I suck even harder, spurred on by their
approval, too.
I get so carried away in the moment that I don’t obey Ben when he tells me to stop. He has to pull
me off him by my hair, and as we stare at each other, breathing hard, no words need to be spoken. I
need him. Now.
Ben drags his hand down his face and visibly braces himself. He bends to give me a quick kiss,
and then he reaches for the equipment on the workbench he’s set up nearby.
Holding the round-ended soft tubing against the underside of his cock, he slides studded cock
rings onto his dick, to keep in place. Once he’s done, his cock looks like some huge and bulky sex toy
that’s going to stretch my cunt to its limits and squirt at me. “Daddy.”
“Nearly ready, baby girl.” He pulls a big plastic syringe-plunger thingy from its packaging and
sucks up all the cum his friends have supplied. I was having such a good time, I didn’t notice them
spurting, despite really looking forward to it. I was too busy enjoying my mountain daddy, and now
I’m going to be rewarded for it with the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
This is it.
When I feel Ben move in close behind me again, I’m nervous about his added size, and how things
will go with the sperm deposits, and what the guys are doing now that they’ve already come, but my
mind goes blank as Ben runs his cock through my slickness. I can feel the added bulk the rings have
given him, and I shiver on my milking frame as the cups continue to tug at my teats. Ben doesn’t push
inside straight away. It’s as if he’s noticed my sudden nerves and is waiting to discover what I need.
“I’m bigger, aren’t I, baby girl? I’m going to stretch you more than ever, but you can take it.
You’re going to take Daddy’s baby-making cock, while the guys watch. They’ll see me put their cum
to good use, and they’re going to love it when I make you enjoy it. You want that, Maggie?” He rests
his big thumb over my asshole and slowly rubs slippery circles around it until I forget all about being
nervous and turn my thoughts to taking whatever he’s going to give me.
I want this. All of this. “Yes.”
“Yes what, Maggie?”
 “Put a baby in me, Daddy.”
Ben grunts in approval and wedges the head of his cock at my entrance. “Sure thing, baby girl.”
His thumb stops rubbing at my asshole, and my inability to move closer, to sheath his cock or even
rub myself against it, makes my impatience unbearable.
One moment turns into two, and then more, but Ben stays right where he is — on the verge of
fucking me but not doing it.
Everything is so quiet. What’s happening? “Ben?”
He grunts again, and it sounds a little like a reprimand for my not calling him Daddy. “Just making
sure you’re ready for me, Maggie.”
The motor on the milking machine kicks up a notch, and the tugging at my nipples increases,
sucking hard enough to make them throb. My pussy squeezes tight in response, and Ben moans. “Any
tighter, and I won’t fit, Maggie. I’ll have to fuck you with the syringe, instead of my cock.”
Another fluttering hits my core, and Ben’s fingers strum my clit. “Mmm. Maybe I’ll do that, too,
but first, you’re going to come on Daddy’s fat, spermy cock. I just injected some cum, to help lube
your little cunt for the ride.”
The pressure at my entrance increases, as Ben’s bulked-up cock forges inside me, stretching me
like never before. He eases back and pumps at me twice, wetting his head before sinking deeper and
rocking his hips to force a moan from my throat.
“That’s my good girl. Fucking take it.”
He pulls back and slams in again, making me take his cock hard a few times before he can piston
in and out of me more easily. The knobby extensions all over his cock create the strangest friction
inside me. It’s like having some big monster’s cock fucking me, and when he digs his fingers into my
hip, to secure his grip on me, all I can think about is claws, and the horrible nightmares I used to have
as a kid — the ones Ben would comfort me after, by hunting under my bed and threatening to tear
apart any monsters that dared frighten his little Maggie with his bare hands. The nightmare feels real,
like a monster’s trying to fuck a baby into me.
“Daddy, I’m scared.” I pant around the words that spill from me in a rush, as my knuckles turn
white from gripping my frame. “It doesn’t feel right. Your cock’s all lumpy, like a monster’s. I don’t
want a baby monster.”
Ben stills instantly, and his firm hold on me relents, as his touch becomes gentle and soothing. He
strokes my skin with his warm, loving hands and speaks in a near whisper. “It’s only me, baby girl. I
promise.”
I nod, but I can feel tears building. “I know. I just… I don’t like it. I thought I would, but I don’t.”
“It’s okay, Maggie. We can stop.”
“But…” I sniff and shake my head. “I want to make a baby with you. And the guys came to watch,
and I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Ben makes calming shushing sounds and presses a soft kiss to my spine. “You’re not disappointing
anyone, I promise. I want to make you happy, and I’ll only give you this the way you want it. That’s
my job, beautiful. We don’t have to do it like this. I don’t like it either. I can hardly feel you, through
all this getup.”
I relax into my milking frame with relief. “Thank you, Daddy.”
When nothing happens, things turn awkward, with the motor of the milking machine becoming the
only sound to reach my ears.
“I think we’re going to give you two some privacy, to sort this out,” Vince says in his deep voice,
as he herds the others back toward the cabin.
 Jason pushes Daryl ahead of him when he keeps trying to turn back. “All this quiet is making
things weirder than they actually are,” Daryl says, finally heading where he’s directed. “I should have
made a playlist or something”
“Music to conceive by,” Gunnar agrees without a hint of humor. “That playlist probably already
exists.”
Their voices fade as they get further away, and Ben turns the suction down on my milking
machine. It brings another level of relief I didn’t know I needed, and he croons softly as he rubs my
back. His lumpy, oversized cock is still jammed inside me, but it doesn’t feel so bad when he doesn’t
move.
He can’t stay there, though.
“Baby girl, when you’re ready, I’m going to pull out and get rid of all this extra paraphernalia. Do
you want me to deposit the semen I have left in the tube?”
I nod. “Yes. I still want the baby, and I still want you to fuck me — just not with all those bumps
and knobs. They scare away my orgasms, and I want this to be nicer and more special.”
“I want that too, Maggie. Daddy’s going to pull back a bit and fill you with cum. Then he’s going
to ditch the alien cock and come back as himself, to make you feel all better. Sound good?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He eases back slowly, and then the fully stretched feeling disappears in a rush of warmth.
“Fuck. Baby girl, four men have made your sweet little cunt a fucking mess. You’re dripping,” he
marvels while cranking up my frame at the back end, so my ass is tilted even higher. “You look so
good. I’m going to make you take some more. I already needed to fuck you like I need to breathe, but
seeing your fertile young fuck-hole bred so well makes me want it even more. You ready for Daddy?”
His words make my core clench. It squeezes more cum out of me, and he rumbles. The mess
dribbles over my clit, and he drags the slick back to my pussy with his fingers before he shoves his
cock inside me, to plug the leak. But there’s no stopping it. I’m so full of cum, it slurps and oozes
from me with his every thrust, in a fucking deluge.
“You hear that, Maggie?” Ben pumps his fat cock in and out of my inundated hole. “That’s the
sound of five grown-ass men thinking you’re the prettiest little breeding missy they’ve ever been
blessed to see naked, milked, and fucked.”
His thrusts get harder, until he’s smacking my clit with his balls. They splatter the mess and bully
the sensitive bud with loud, wet slaps. “You’re Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you, baby? Daddy’s milky
little sex critter. You run on animal instincts, and I fucking love your raw need and adventurous spirit.
You’re my precious, curious little darling. Daddy’s favorite little plaything.”
He’s fucking me so hard the frame shakes with the impact. It sends my tits forward, and the
milking cups yank them back with a strength that makes me cry out as my core clamps tight around
Ben.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbles. “Love Daddy’s hard cock, and he’ll breed your little cunt till it
fruits.”
A ripple of pleasure shoots through me from deep inside, promising more will follow. “Yes.”
“Mmm… You fucking love Daddy’s filthy mouth as much as you love his big dick. You love it like
a little slut, don’t you? You let me fuck your tiny cunt in front of my friends, you take their seed inside
you, and you love it. Don’t you, baby girl?”
“Yes.” I can’t tell if Ben’s trying to ramp up my pleasure or his, but it’s working.
His thrusts get even more aggressive. He adjusts the dial, and the suction on my teats increases, as
his words spin my world. He pounds his cock into me in the same rhythm as the milking cups pump
Another random document with
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 ‘Oh, my poor, blind Stephen! Look again, go on looking until you do
believe.’
They discussed many things quite simply together, for between
these two was no vestige of shyness. His youth met hers and walked
hand in hand with it, so that she knew how utterly lonely her own youth
had been before the coming of Martin.
She said: ‘You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had, except Father—
our friendship’s so wonderful, somehow—we’re like brothers, we enjoy
all the same sort of things.’
He nodded: ‘I know, a wonderful friendship.’
The hills must let Stephen tell him their secrets, the secrets of
bypaths most cunningly hidden; the secrets of small, unsuspected
green hollows; the secrets of ferns that live only by hiding. She might
even reveal the secrets of birds, and show him the playground of shy,
spring cuckoos.
‘They fly quite low up here, one can see them; last year a couple
flew right past me, calling. If you were not going away so soon, Martin,
we’d come later on—I’d love you to see them.’
‘And I’d love you to see my huge forests,’ he told her, ‘why can’t you
come back to Canada with me? What rot it is, all this damned
convention; we’re such pals you and I, I’ll be desperately lonely—Lord,
what a fool of a world we live in!’
And she said quite simply: ‘I’d love to come with you.’
Then he started to tell her about his huge forests, so vast that their
greenness seemed almost eternal. Great trees he told of, erect,
towering firs, many centuries old and their girth that of giants. And then
there were all the humbler tree-folk whom he spoke of as friends that
were dear and familiar; the hemlocks that grow by the courses of rivers,
in love with adventure and clear running water; the slender white
spruces that border the lakes; the red pines, that glow like copper in the
sunset. Unfortunate trees these beautiful red pines, for their tough,
manly wood is coveted by builders.
‘But I won’t have my roof-tree hacked from their sides,’ declared
Martin, ‘I’d feel like a positive assassin!’
 Happy days spent between the hills and the stables, happy days for
these two who had always been lonely until now, and now this
wonderful friendship—there had never been anything like it for
Stephen. Oh, but it was good to have him beside her, so young, so
strong and so understanding. She liked his quiet voice with its careful
accent, and his thoughtful blue eyes that moved rather slowly, so that
his glance when it came, came slowly—sometimes she would meet his
glance half-way, smiling. She who had longed for the companionship of
men, for their friendship, their good-will, their toleration, she had it all
now and much more in Martin, because of his great understanding.
She said to Puddle one night in the schoolroom: ‘I’ve grown fond of
Martin—isn’t that queer after only a couple of months of friendship? But
he’s different somehow—when he’s gone I shall miss him.’
And her words had the strangest effect on Puddle who quite
suddenly beamed at Stephen and kissed her—Puddle who never
betrayed her emotions, quite suddenly beamed at Stephen and kissed
her.

People gossiped a little because of the freedom allowed Martin and

Stephen by her parents; but on the whole they gossiped quite kindly,
with a great deal of smiling and nodding of heads. After all the girl was
just like other girls—they almost ceased to resent her. Meanwhile
Martin continued to stay on in Upton, held fast by the charm and the
strangeness of Stephen—her very strangeness it was that allured him,
yet all the while he must think of their friendship, not even admitting
that strangeness. He deluded himself with these thoughts of friendship,
but Sir Philip and Anna were not deluded. They looked at each other
almost shyly at first, then Anna grew bold, and she said to her
husband:
‘Is it possible the child is falling in love with Martin? Of course he’s
in love with her. Oh, my dear, it would make me so awfully happy—’
And her heart went out in affection to Stephen, as it had not done since
the girl was a baby.
 Her hopes would go flying ahead of events; she would start making
plans for her daughter’s future. Martin must give up his orchards and
forests and buy Tenley Court that was now in the market; it had several
large farms and some excellent pasture, quite enough to keep any man
happy and busy. Then Anna would suddenly grow very thoughtful;
Tenley Court was also possessed of fine nurseries, big, bright, sunny
rooms facing south, with their bathroom, there were bars to the
windows—it was all there and ready.
Sir Philip shook his head and warned Anna to go slowly, but he
could not quite keep the great joy from his eyes, nor the hope from his
heart. Had he been mistaken? Perhaps after all he had been mistaken
—the hope thudded ceaselessly now in his heart.

Came a day when winter must give place to spring, when the daffodils
marched across the whole country from Castle Morton Common to
Ross and beyond, pitching camps by the side of the river. When the
hornbeam made patches of green in the hedges, and the hawthorn
broke out into small, budding bundles; when the old cedar tree on the
lawn at Morton grew reddish pink tips to its elegant fingers; when the
wild cherry trees on the sides of the hills were industriously putting forth
both leaves and blossoms; when Martin looked into his heart and saw
Stephen—saw her suddenly there as a woman.
Friendship! He marvelled now at his folly, at his blindness, his
coldness of body and spirit. He had offered this girl the cold husks of
his friendship, insulting her youth, her womanhood, her beauty—for he
saw her now with the eyes of a lover. To a man such as he was,
sensitive, restrained, love came as a blinding revelation. He knew little
about women, and the little he did know was restricted to episodes that
he thought best forgotten. On the whole he had led a fairly chaste life—
less from scruple than because he was fastidious by nature. But now
he was very deeply in love, and those years of restraint took their toll of
poor Martin, so that he trembled before his own passion, amazed at its
strength, not a little disconcerted. And being by habit a quiet, reserved
creature, he must quite lose his head and become the reverse. So
impatient was he that he rushed off to Morton very early one morning to
look for Stephen, tracking her down in the end at the stables, where he
found her talking to Williams and Raftery.
He said: ‘Never mind about Raftery, Stephen—let’s go into the
garden, I’ve got something to tell you.’ And she thought that he must
have had bad news from home, because of his voice and his curious
pallor.
She went with him and they walked on in silence for a while, then
Martin stood still, and began to talk quickly; he was saying amazing,
incredible things: ‘Stephen, my dear—I do utterly love you.’ He was
holding out his arms, while she shrank back bewildered: ‘I love you, I’m
deeply in love with you, Stephen—look at me, don’t you understand
me, belovèd? I want you to marry me—you do love me, don’t you?’
And then, as though she had suddenly struck him, he flinched: ‘Good
God! What’s the matter, Stephen?’
She was staring at him in a kind of dumb horror, staring at his eyes
that were clouded by desire, while gradually over her colourless face
there was spreading an expression of the deepest repulsion—terror
and repulsion he saw on her face, and something else too, a look as of
outrage. He could not believe this thing that he saw, this insult to all
that he felt to be sacred; for a moment he in his turn, must stare, then
he came a step nearer, still unable to believe. But at that she wheeled
round and fled from him wildly, fled back to the house that had always
protected; without so much as a word she left him, nor did she once
pause in her flight to look back. Yet even in this moment of headlong
panic, the girl was conscious of something like amazement,
amazement at herself, and she gasped as she ran: ‘It’s Martin—Martin
—’ And again: ‘It’s Martin!’
He stood perfectly still until the trees hid her. He felt stunned,
incapable of understanding. All that he knew was that he must get
away, away from Stephen, away from Morton, away from the thoughts
that would follow after. In less than two hours he was motoring to
London; in less than two weeks he was standing on the deck of the
steamer that would carry him back to his forests that lay somewhere
beyond the horizon.

CHAPTER 12
 1

N o one questioned at Morton; they spoke very little. Even Anna

forbore to question her daughter, checked by something that she
saw in the girl’s pale face.
But alone with her husband she gave way to her misgivings, to her
deep disappointment: ‘It’s heart-breaking, Philip. What’s happened?
They seemed so devoted to each other. Will you ask the child? Surely
one of us ought to—’
Sir Philip said quietly: ‘I think Stephen will tell me.’ And with that
Anna had perforce to be content.
Very silently Stephen now went about Morton, and her eyes looked
bewildered and deeply unhappy. At night she would lie awake thinking
of Martin, missing him, mourning him as though he were dead. But she
could not accept this death without question, without feeling that she
was in some way blameworthy. What was she, what manner of curious
creature, to have been so repelled by a lover like Martin? Yet she had
been repelled, and even her pity for the man could not wipe out that
stronger feeling. She had driven him away because something within
her was intolerant of that new aspect of Martin.
Oh, but she mourned his good, honest friendship; he had taken that
from her, the thing she most needed—but perhaps after all it had never
existed except as a cloak for this other emotion. And then, lying there in
the thickening darkness, she would shrink from what might be waiting
in the future, for all that had just happened might happen again—there
were other men in the world beside Martin. Fool, never to have
visualized this thing before, never to have faced the possibility of it;
now she understood her resentment of men when their voices grew
soft and insinuating. Yes, and now she knew to the full the meaning of
fear, and Martin it was, who had taught her its meaning—her friend—
the man she had utterly trusted had pulled the scales from her eyes
and revealed it. Fear, stark fear, and the shame of such fear—that was
the legacy left her by Martin. And yet he had made her so happy at
first, she had felt so contented, so natural with him; but that was
because they had been like two men, companions, sharing each
other’s interests. And at this thought her bitterness would all but flow
over; it was cruel, it was cowardly of him to have deceived her, when all
the time he had only been waiting for the chance to force this other
thing on her.
But what was she? Her thoughts slipping back to her childhood,
would find many things in her past that perplexed her. She had never
been quite like the other small children, she had always been lonely
and discontented, she had always been trying to be some one else—
that was why she had dressed herself up as young Nelson.
Remembering those days she would think of her father, and would
wonder if now, as then, he could help her. Supposing she should ask
him to explain about Martin? Her father was wise, and had infinite
patience—yet somehow she instinctively dreaded to ask him. Alone—it
was terrible to feel so much alone—to feel oneself different from other
people. At one time she had rather enjoyed this distinction—she had
rather enjoyed dressing up as young Nelson. Yet had she enjoyed it?
Or had it been done as some sort of inadequate, childish protest? But if
so against what had she been protesting when she strutted about the
house, masquerading? In those days she had wanted to be a boy—had
that been the meaning of the pitiful young Nelson? And what about
now? She had wanted Martin to treat her as a man, had expected it of
him. . . . The questions to which she could find no answers, would pile
themselves up and up in the darkness; oppressing, stifling by sheer
weight of numbers, until she would feel them getting her under; ‘I don’t
know—oh, God, I don’t know!’ she would mutter, tossing as though to
fling off those questions.
Then one night towards dawn she could bear it no longer; her dread
must give place to her need of consolation. She would ask her father to
explain her to herself; she would tell him her deep desolation over
Martin. She would say: ‘Is there anything strange about me, Father,
that I should have felt as I did about Martin?’ And then she would try to
explain very calmly what it was she had felt, the intensity of it. She
would try to make him understand her suspicion that this feeling of hers
was a thing fundamental, much more than merely not being in love;
much, much more than not wanting to marry Martin. She would tell him
why she found herself so utterly bewildered; tell him how she had loved
Martin’s strong, young body, and his honest brown face, and his slow
thoughtful eyes, and his careless walk—all these things she had loved.
Then suddenly terror and deep repugnance because of that unforeseen
change in Martin, the change that had turned the friend into the lover—
in reality it had been no more than that, the friend had turned lover and
had wanted from her what she could not give him, or indeed any man,
because of that deep repugnance. Yet there should have been nothing
repugnant about Martin, nor was she a child to have felt such terror.
She had known certain facts about life for some time and they had not
repelled her in other people—not until they had been brought home to
herself had these facts both terrified and repelled her.
She got up. No good in trying to sleep, those eternal questions kept
stifling, tormenting. Dressing quickly she stole down the wide, shallow
stairs to the garden door, then out into the garden. The garden looked
unfamiliar in the sunrise, like a well-known face that is suddenly
transfigured. There was something aloof and awesome about it, as
though it were lost in ecstatic devotion. She tried to tread softly for she
felt apologetic, she and her troubles were there as intruders; their
presence disturbed this strange hush of communion, this oneness with
something beyond their knowledge, that was yet known and loved by
the soul of the garden. A mysterious and wonderful thing this oneness,
pregnant with comfort could she know its true meaning—she felt this
somewhere deep down in herself, but try as she would her mind could
not grasp it; perhaps even the garden was shutting her out of its
prayers, because she had sent away Martin. Then a thrush began to
sing in the cedar, and his song was full of wild jubilation: ‘Stephen, look
at me, look at me!’ sang the thrush, ‘I’m happy, happy, it’s all very
simple!’ There was something heartless about that singing which only
served to remind her of Martin. She walked on disconsolate, thinking
deeply. He had gone, he would soon be back in his forests—she had
made no effort to keep him beside her because he had wanted to be
her lover. . . . ‘Stephen, look at us, look at us!’ sang the birds, ‘We’re
happy, happy, it’s all very simple!’ Martin walking in dim, green places—
she could picture his life away in the forests, a man’s life, good with the
goodness of danger, a primitive, strong, imperative thing—a man’s life,
the life that should have been hers—And her eyes filled with heavy,
regretful tears, yet she did not quite know for what she was weeping.
She only knew that some great sense of loss, some great sense of
incompleteness possessed her, and she let the tears trickle down her
face, wiping them off one by one with her finger.
And now she was passing the old potting shed where Collins had
lain in the arms of the footman. Choking back her tears she paused by
the shed, and tried to remember the girl’s appearance. Grey eyes—no,
blue, and a round-about figure—plump hands, with soft skin always
puckered from soap-suds—a housemaid’s knee that had pained very
badly: ‘See that dent? That’s the water. . . . It fair makes me sick.’ Then
a queer little girl dressed up as young Nelson: ‘I’d like to be awfully hurt
for you, Collins, the way that Jesus was hurt for sinners. . . .’ The
potting shed smelling of earth and dampness, sagging a little on one
side, lop-sided—Collins lying in the arms of the footman, Collins being
kissed by him, wantonly, crudely—a broken flower pot in the hand of a
child—rage, deep rage—a great anguish of spirit—blood on a face that
was pale with amazement, very bright red blood that kept trickling and
trickling—flight, wild, inarticulate flight, away and away, anyhow,
anywhere—the pain of torn skin, the rip of torn stockings—
She had not remembered these things for years, she had thought
that all this had been quite forgotten; there was nothing to remind her of
Collins these days but a fat, half-blind and pampered old pony. Strange
how these memories came back this morning; she had lain in bed lately
trying to recapture the childish emotions aroused in her by Collins and
had failed, yet this morning they came back quite clearly. But the
garden was full of a new memory now; it was full of the sorrowful
memory of Martin. She turned abruptly, and leaving the shed walked
towards the lakes that gleamed faintly in the distance.
Down by the lakes there was a sense of great stillness which the
songs of the birds could in no way lessen, for this place had that
curious stillness of spirit that seems to interpenetrate sound. A swan
paddled about in front of his island, on guard, for his mate had a nest
full of cygnets; from time to time he glanced crossly at Stephen though
he knew her quite well, but now there were cygnets. He was proud in
his splendid, incredible whiteness, and paternity made him feel
overbearing, so that he refused to feed from Stephen’s hand although
she found a biscuit in her pocket.
‘Coup, c-o-u-p!’ she called, but he swung his neck sideways as he
swam—it was like a disdainful negation. ‘Perhaps he thinks I’m a freak,’
she mused grimly, feeling more lonely because of the swan.
The lakes were guarded by massive old beech trees, and the beech
trees stood ankle-deep in their foliage; a lovely and luminous carpet of
leaves they had spread on the homely brown earth of Morton. Each
spring came new little shuttles of greenness that in time added warp
and woof to the carpet, so that year by year it grew softer and deeper,
and year by year it glowed more resplendent. Stephen had loved this
spot from her childhood, and now she instinctively went to it for
comfort, but its beauty only added to her melancholy, for beauty can
wound like a two-edged sword. She could not respond to its stillness of
spirit, since she could not lull her own spirit to stillness.
She thought: ‘I shall never be one with great peace any more, I shall
always stand outside this stillness—wherever there is absolute stillness
and peace in this world, I shall always stand just outside it.’ And as
though these thoughts were in some way prophetic, she inwardly
shivered a little.
Then what must the swan do but start to hiss loudly, just to show
her that he was really a father: ‘Peter,’ she reproached him, ‘I won’t hurt
your babies—can’t you trust me? I fed you the whole of last winter!’
But apparently Peter could not trust her at all, for he squawked to
his mate who came out through the bushes, and she hissed in her turn,
flapping strong angry wings, which meant in mere language: ‘Get out of
this, Stephen, you clumsy, inadequate, ludicrous creature; you
destroyer of nests, you disturber of young, you great wingless blot on a
beautiful morning!’ Then they both hissed together: ‘Get out of this,
Stephen!’ So Stephen left them to the care of their cygnets.
Remembering Raftery, she walked to the stables, where all was
confusion and purposeful bustle. Old Williams was ruthlessly out on the
warpath; he was scolding: ‘Drat the boy, what be ’e a-doin’? Come on,
do! ’Urry up, get them two horses bridled, and don’t go forgettin’ their
knee-caps this mornin’—and that bucket there don’t belong where it’s
standin’, nor that broom! Did Jim take the roan to the blacksmith’s?
Gawd almighty, why not? ’Er shoes is like paper! ’Ere, you Jim, don’t
you go on ignorin’ my orders, if you do—Come on, boy, got them two
horses ready? Right, well then, up you go! You don’t want no saddle,
like as not you’d give ’im a gall if you ’ad one!’
The sleek, good-looking hunters were led out in clothing—for the
early spring mornings were still rather nippy—and among them came
Raftery, slender and skittish; he was wearing his hood, and his eyes
peered out bright as a falcon’s from the two neatly braided eye-holes.
From a couple more holes in the top of his head-dress, shot his small,
pointed ears, which now worked with excitement.
‘ ’Old on!’ bellowed Williams, ‘What the ’ell be you doin’? Quick,
shorten ’is bridle, yer not in a circus!’ And then seeing Stephen: ‘Beg
pardon, Miss Stephen, but it be a fair crime not to lead that horse close,
and ’im all corned up until ’e’s fair dancin’!’
They stood watching Raftery skip through the gates, then old
Williams said softly: ‘ ’E do be a wonder—more nor fifty odd years ’ave
I worked in the stables, and never no beast ’ave I loved like Raftery.
But ’e’s no common horse, ’e be some sort of Christian, and a better
one too than a good few I knows on—’
And Stephen answered: ‘Perhaps he’s a poet like his namesake; I
think if he could write he’d write verses. They say all the Irish are poets
at heart, so perhaps they pass on the gift to their horses.’
Then the two of them smiled, each a little embarrassed, but their
eyes held great friendship the one for the other, a friendship of years
now cemented by Raftery whom they loved—and small wonder, for
assuredly never did more gallant or courteous horse step out of stable.
‘Oh, well,’ sighed Williams, ‘I be gettin’ that old—and Raftery, ’e do
be comin’ eleven, but ’e don’t feel it yet in ’is limbs the way I does—me
rheumatics ’as troubled me awful this winter.’
She stayed on a little while, comforting Williams, then made her way
back to the house, very slowly. ‘Poor Williams,’ she thought, ‘he is
getting old, but thank the Lord nothing’s the matter with Raftery.’
The house lay full in a great slant of sunshine; it looked as though it
was sunning its shoulders. Glancing up, she came eye to eye with the
house, and she fancied that Morton was thinking about her, for its
windows seemed to be beckoning, inviting: ‘Come home, come home,
come inside quickly, Stephen!’ And as though they had spoken, she
answered: ‘I’m coming,’ and she quickened her lagging steps to a run,
in response to this most compassionate kindness. Yes, she actually ran
through the heavy white doorway under the semi-circular fanlight, and
on up the staircase that led from the hall in which hung the funny old
portraits of Gordons—men long dead and gone but still wonderfully
living, since their thoughts had fashioned the comeliness of Morton;
since their loves had made children from father to son—from father to
son until the advent of Stephen.

That evening she went to her father’s study, and when he looked up
she thought she was expected.
She said: ‘I want to talk to you, Father.’
And he answered: ‘I know—sit close to me, Stephen.’
He shaded his face with his long, thin hand, so that she could not
see his expression, yet it seemed to her that he knew quite well why
she had come to him in that study. Then she told him about Martin, told
him all that had happened, omitting no detail, sparing him nothing. She
openly mourned the friend who had failed her, and herself she mourned
for failing the lover—and Sir Philip listened in absolute silence.
After she had spoken for quite a long time, she at length found the
courage to ask her question: ‘Is there anything strange about me,
Father, that I should have felt as I did about Martin?’
It had come. It fell on his heart like a blow. The hand that was
shading his pale face trembled, for he felt a great trembling take hold of
his spirit. His spirit shrank back and cowered in his body, so that it
dared not look out on Stephen.
She was waiting, and now she was asking again: ‘Father, is there
anything strange about me? I remember when I was a little child—I was
never quite like all the other children—’
Her voice sounded apologetic, uncertain, and he knew that the
tears were not far from her eyes, knew that if he looked now he would
see her lips shaking, and the tears making ugly red stains on her
eyelids. His loins ached with pity for this fruit of his loins—an
insufferable aching, an intolerable pity. He was frightened, a coward
because of his pity, as he had been once long ago with her mother.
Merciful God! How could a man answer? What could he say, and that
man a father? He sat there inwardly grovelling before her: ‘Oh,
Stephen, my child, my little, little Stephen.’ For now in his pity she
seemed to him little, little and utterly helpless again—he remembered
her hands as the hands of a baby, very small, very pink, with minute
perfect nails—he had played with her hands, exclaiming about them,
astonished because of their neat perfection: ‘Oh, Stephen, my little,
little Stephen.’ He wanted to cry out against God for this thing; he
wanted to cry out: ‘You have maimed my Stephen! What had I done or
my father before me, or my father’s father, or his father’s father? Unto
the third and fourth generations. . . .’ And Stephen was waiting for his
answer. Then Sir Philip set the lips of his spirit to the cup, and his spirit
must drink the gall of deception: ‘I will not tell her, You cannot ask it—
there are some things that even God should not ask.’
And now he turned round and deliberately faced her; smiling right
into her eyes he lied glibly: ‘My dear, don’t be foolish, there’s nothing
strange about you, some day you may meet a man you can love. And
supposing you don’t, well, what of it, Stephen? Marriage isn’t the only
career for a woman. I’ve been thinking about your writing just lately,
and I’m going to let you go up to Oxford; but meanwhile you mustn’t get
foolish fancies, that won’t do at all—it’s not like you, Stephen.’ She was
gazing at him and he turned away quickly: ‘Darling, I’m busy, you must
leave me,’ he faltered.
‘Thank you,’ she said very quietly and simply, ‘I felt that I had to ask
you about Martin—’

After she had gone he sat on alone, and the lie was still bitter to his
spirit as he sat there, and he covered his face for the shame that was in
him—but because of the love that was in him he wept.

CHAPTER 13

T here was gossip in plenty over Martin’s disappearance, and to this

Mrs. Antrim contributed her share, even more than her share,
looking wise and mysterious whenever Stephen’s name was
mentioned. Every one felt very deeply aggrieved. They had been so
eager to welcome the girl as one of themselves, and now this strange
happening—it made them feel foolish which in turn made them angry.
The spring meets were heavy with tacit disapproval—nice men like
young Hallam did not run away for nothing; and then what a scandal if
those two were not engaged; they had wandered all over the country
together. This tacit disapproval was extended to Sir Philip, and via him
to Anna for allowing too much freedom; a mother ought to look after her
daughter, but then Stephen had always been allowed too much
freedom. This, no doubt, was what came of her riding astride and
fencing and all the rest of the nonsense; when she did meet a man she
took the bit between her teeth and behaved in a most amazing manner.
Of course, had there been a proper engagement—but obviously that
had never existed. They marvelled, remembering their own toleration,
they had really been extremely broad-minded. An extraordinary girl,
she had always been odd, and now for some reason she seemed
odder than ever. Not so much as a word was said in her hearing that
could possibly offend, and yet Stephen well knew that her neighbors’
good-will had been only fleeting, a thing entirely dependent upon
Martin. He it was who had raised her status among them—he, the
stranger, not even connected with their county. They had all decided
that she meant to marry Martin, and that fact had at once made them
welcoming and friendly; and suddenly Stephen longed intensely to be
welcomed, and she wished from her heart that she could have married
Martin.
The strange thing was that she understood her neighbours in a way,
and was therefore too just to condemn them; indeed had nature been
less daring with her, she might well have become very much what they
were—a breeder of children, an upholder of home, a careful and
diligent steward of pastures. There was little of the true pioneer about
Stephen, in spite of her erstwhile longing for the forests. She belonged
to the soil and the fruitfulness of Morton, to its pastures and paddocks,
to its farms and its cattle, to its quiet and gentlemanly ordered
traditions, to the dignity and pride of its old red brick house, that was
yet without ostentation. To these things she belonged and would
always belong by right of those past generations of Gordons whose
thoughts had fashioned the comeliness of Morton, whose bodies had
gone to the making of Stephen. Yes, she was of them, those bygone
people; they might spurn her—the lusty breeders of sons that they had
been—they might even look down from Heaven with raised eyebrows,
and say: ‘We utterly refuse to acknowledge this curious creature called
Stephen.’ But for all that they could not drain her of blood, and her
blood was theirs also, so that do what they would they could never
completely rid themselves of her nor she of them—they were one in
their blood.
But Sir Philip, that other descendant of theirs, found little excuse for
his critical neighbours. Because he loved much he must equally suffer,
consuming himself at times with resentment. And now when he and
Stephen were out hunting he would be on his guard, very anxious and
watchful lest any small incident should occur to distress her, lest at any
time she should find herself lonely. When hounds checked and the field
collected together, he would make little jokes to amuse his daughter, he
would rack his brain for these poor little jokes, in order that people
should see Stephen laughing.
Sometimes he would whisper: ‘Let ’em have it hot, Stephen, that
youngster you’re on loves a good bit of timber—don’t mind me, I know
you won’t damage his knees, just you give ’em a lead and let’s see if
they’ll catch you!’ And because it was seldom indeed that they caught
her, his sore heart would know a fleeting contentment.
Yet people begrudged her even this triumph, pointing out that the
girl was magnificently mounted: ‘Anyone could get there on that sort of
horse,’ they would murmur, when Stephen was out of hearing.
But small Colonel Antrim, who was not always kind, would retort if
he heard them: ‘Damn it, no, it’s the riding. The girl rides, that’s the
point; as for some of you others—’ And then he would let loose a flood
of foul language. ‘If some bloody fools that I know rode like Stephen,
we’d have bloody well less to pay to the farmers,’ and much more he
would say to the same effect, with rich oaths interlarding his every
sentence—the foulest-mouthed master in the whole British Isles he
was said to be, this small Colonel Antrim.
Oh, but he dearly loved a fine rider, and he cursed and he swore his
appreciation. Even in the presence of a sporting bishop one day, he
had failed to control his language; indeed, he had sworn in the face of
the bishop with enthusiasm, as he pointed to Stephen. An ineffectual
and hen-pecked little fellow—in his home he was hardly allowed to say
‘damn.’ He was never permitted to smoke a cigar outside of his dark,
inhospitable study. He must not breed Norwich canaries, which he
loved, because they brought mice, declared Mrs. Antrim; he must not
keep a pet dog in the house, and the ‘Pink ’Un’ was anathema because
of Violet. His taste in art was heavily censored, even on the walls of his
own water-closet, where nothing might hang but a family group taken
sixteen odd years ago with the children.
On Sundays he sat in an uncomfortable pew while his wife chanted
psalms in the voice of a peacock. ‘Oh come, let us sing unto the Lord,’
she would chant, as she heartily rejoiced in the strength of her
salvation. All this and a great deal more he endured, indeed most of his
life was passed in endurance—had it not been for those red-letter days
out hunting, he might well have become melancholic from boredom.
But those days, when he actually found himself master, went far to
restore his anæmic manhood, and on them he would speak the good
English language as some deep-seated complex knew it ought to be
spoken—ruddily, roundly, explosively spoken, with elation, at times with
total abandon—especially if he should chance to remember Mrs. Antrim
would he speak it with total abandon.
But his oaths could not save Stephen now from her neighbours,
nothing could do that since the going of Martin—for quite unknown to
themselves they feared her; it was fear that aroused their antagonism.
In her they instinctively sensed an outlaw, and theirs was the task of
policing nature.

In her vast drawing-room so beautifully proportioned, Anna would sit

with her pride sorely wounded, dreading the thinly veiled questions of
her neighbours, dreading the ominous silence of her husband. And the
old aversion she had felt for her child would return upon her like the
unclean spirit who gathered to himself seven others more wicked, so
that her last state was worse than her first, and at times she must turn
away her eyes from Stephen.
Thus tormented, she grew less tactful with her husband, and now
she was always plying him with questions: ‘But why can’t you tell me
what Stephen said to you, Philip, that evening when she went to your
study?’
And he, with a mighty effort to be patient, would answer: ‘She said
that she couldn’t love Martin—there was no crime in that. Leave the
child alone, Anna, she’s unhappy enough; why not let her alone?’ And
then he would hastily change the subject.
But Anna could not let Stephen alone, could never keep off the topic
of Martin. She would talk at the girl until she grew crimson; and seeing
this, Sir Philip would frown darkly, and when he and his wife were alone
in their bedroom he would often reproach her with violence.
‘Cruel—it’s abominably cruel of you, Anna. Why in God’s name
must you go on nagging Stephen?’
Anna’s taut nerves would tighten to breaking, so that she, when she
answered, must also speak with violence.
One night he said abruptly: ‘Stephen won’t marry—I don’t want her
to marry; it would only mean disaster.’
And at this Anna broke out in angry protest. Why shouldn’t Stephen
marry? She wished her to marry. Was he mad? And what did he mean
by disaster? No woman was ever complete without marriage—what on
earth did he mean by disaster? He frowned and refused to answer her
question. Stephen, he said, must go up to Oxford. He had set his heart
on a good education for the child, who might some day become a fine
writer. Marriage wasn’t the only career for a woman. Look at Puddle, for
instance; she’d been at Oxford—a most admirable, well-balanced,
sensible creature. Next year he was going to send Stephen to Oxford.
Anna scoffed: Yes, indeed, he might well look at Puddle! She was what
came of this higher education—a lonely, unfulfilled, middle-aged
spinster. Anna didn’t want that kind of life for her daughter.
And then: ‘It’s a pity you can’t be frank, Philip, about what was said
that night in your study. I feel that there’s something you’re keeping
back from me—it’s so unlike Martin to behave as he has done; there
must have been something that you haven’t told me, to have made him
go off without even a letter—’
He flared up at once because he felt guilty. ‘I don’t care a damn
about Martin!’ he said hotly. ‘All I care about is Stephen, and she’s
going to Oxford next year; she’s my child as well as yours, Anna!’
Then quite suddenly Anna’s self-control left her, and she let him see
into her tormented spirit; all that had lain unspoken between them she
now put into crude, ugly words for his hearing: ‘You care nothing for me
any more—you and Stephen are enleagued against me—you have
been for years.’ Aghast at herself, she must yet go on speaking: ‘You
and Stephen—oh, I’ve seen it for years—you and Stephen.’ He looked
at her, and there was warning in his eyes, but she babbled on wildly:
‘I’ve seen it for years—the cruelty of it; she’s taken you from me, my
own child—the unspeakable cruelty of it!’
‘Cruelty, yes, but not Stephen’s, Anna—it’s yours; for in all the
child’s life you’ve never loved her.’
Ugly, degrading, rather terrible half-truths; and he knew the whole
truth, yet he dared not speak it. It is bad for the soul to know itself a
coward, it is apt to take refuge in mere wordy violence.
‘Yes, you, her mother, you persecute Stephen, you torment her; I
sometimes think you hate her!’
‘Philip—good God!’
‘Yes, I think you hate her; but be careful, Anna, for hatred breeds
hatred, and remember I stand for the rights of my child—if you hate her
you’ve got to hate me; she’s my child. I won’t let her face your hatred
alone.’
Ugly, degrading, rather terrible half-truths. Their hearts ached while
their lips formed recriminations. Their hearts burst into tears while their
eyes remained dry and accusing, staring in hostility and anger. Far into
the night they accused each other, they who before had never seriously
quarrelled; and something very like the hatred he spoke of leapt out like
a flame that seared them at moments.
‘Stephen, my own child—she’s come between us.’
‘It’s you who have thrust her between us, Anna.’
Mad, it was madness! They were such faithful lovers, and their love
it was that had fashioned their child. They knew it was madness and
yet they persisted, while their anger dug out for itself a deep channel,
so that future angers might more easily follow. They could not forgive
and they could not sleep, for neither could sleep without the other’s
forgiveness, and the hatred that leapt out at moments between them
would be drowned in the tears that their hearts were shedding.

Like some vile and prolific thing, this first quarrel bred others, and the
peace of Morton was shattered. The house seemed to mourn, and
withdraw into itself, so that Stephen went searching for its spirit in vain.
‘Morton,’ she whispered, ‘where are you, Morton? I must find you, I
need you so badly.’
For now Stephen knew the cause of their quarrels, and she
recognized the form of the shadow that had seemed to creep in
between them at Christmas, and knowing, she stretched out her arms
to Morton for comfort: ‘My Morton, where are you? I need you.’
Grim and exceedingly angry grew Puddle, that little, grey box of a
woman in her schoolroom; angry with Anna for her treatment of
Stephen, but even more deeply angry with Sir Philip, who knew the
whole truth, or so she suspected, and who yet kept that truth back from
Anna.
Stephen would sit with her head in her hands. ‘Oh, Puddle, it’s my
fault; I’ve come in between them, and they’re all I’ve got—they’re my
one perfect thing—I can’t bear it—why have I come in between them?’
And Puddle would flush with reminiscent anger as her mind slipped
back and back over the years to old sorrows, old miseries, long
decently buried but now disinterred by this pitiful Stephen. She would
live through those years again, while her spirit would cry out,
unregenerate, against their injustice.
Frowning at her pupil, she would speak to her sharply: ‘Don’t be a
fool, Stephen. Where’s your brain, where’s your backbone? Stop
holding your head and get on with your Latin. My God, child, you’ll have
worse things than this to face later—life’s not all beer and skittles, I do
assure you. Now come along, do, and get on with that Latin.
Remember you’ll soon be going up to Oxford.’ But after a while she
might pat the girl’s shoulder and say rather gruffly: ‘I’m not angry,
Stephen—I do understand, my dear, I do really—only somehow I’ve
just got to make you have backbone. You’re too sensitive, child, and
the sensitive suffer—well, I don’t want to see you suffer, that’s all. Let’s
go out for a walk—we’ve done enough Latin for to-day—let’s walk over
the meadows to Upton.’
Stephen clung to this little, grey box of a woman as a drowning man
will cling to a spar. Puddle’s very hardness was somehow consoling—it
seemed concrete, a thing you could trust, could rely on, and their
friendship that had flourished as a green bay-tree grew into something
more stalwart and much more enduring. And surely the two of them
had need of their friendship, for now there was little happiness at
Morton; Sir Philip and Anna were deeply unhappy—degraded they
would feel by their ceaseless quarrels.
Sir Philip would think: ‘I must tell her the truth—I must tell her what I
believe to be the truth about Stephen.’ He would go in search of his
wife, but having found her would stand there tongue-tied, with his eyes
full of pity.
And one day Anna suddenly burst out weeping, for no reason
except that she felt his great pity. Not knowing and not caring why he
pitied, she wept, so that all he could do was to console her.
They clung together like penitent children. ‘Anna, forgive me.’
‘Forgive me, Philip—’ For in between quarrels they were sometimes
like children, naïvely asking each other’s forgiveness.
Sir Philip’s resolution weakened and waned as he kissed the tears
from her poor, reddened eyelids. He thought: ‘To-morrow—to-morrow
I’ll tell her—I can’t bear to make her more unhappy to-day.’
So the weeks drifted by and still he had not spoken; summer came
and went, giving place to the autumn. Yet one more Christmas visited
Morton, and still Sir Philip had not spoken.

CHAPTER 14

1
ebruary came bringing snowstorms with it, the heaviest known for
many a year. The hills lay folded in swathes of whiteness, and so
F did the valleys at the foot of the hills, and so did the spacious
gardens of Morton—it was all one vast panorama of whiteness.
The lakes froze, and the beech trees had crystalline branches, while
their luminous carpet of leaves grew brittle so that it crackled now
underfoot, the only sound in the frozen stillness of that place that was
always infinitely still. Peter, the arrogant swan, turned friendly, and he
and his family now welcomed Stephen who fed them every morning
and evening, and they glad enough to partake of her bounty. On the
lawn Anna set out a tray for the birds, with chopped suet, seed, and
small mounds of breadcrumbs; and down at the stables old Williams
spread straw in wide rings for exercising the horses who could not be
taken beyond the yard, so bad were the roads around Morton.
The gardens lay placidly under the snow, in no way perturbed or
disconcerted. Only one inmate of theirs felt anxious, and that was the
ancient and wide-boughed cedar, for the weight of the snow made an
ache in its branches—its branches were brittle like an old man’s bones;
that was why the cedar felt anxious. But it could not cry out or shake off
its torment; no, it could only endure with patience, hoping that Anna
would take note of its trouble, since she sat in its shade summer after
summer—since once long ago she had sat in its shade dreaming of the
son she would bear her husband. And one morning Anna did notice its
plight, and she called Sir Philip, who hurried from his study.
She said: ‘Look, Philip! I’m afraid for my cedar—it’s all weighted
down—I feel worried about it.’
Then Sir Philip sent in to Upton for chain, and for stout pads of felt
to support the branches; and he himself must direct the gardeners
while they climbed into the tree and pushed off the snow; and he
himself must see to the placing of the stout felt pads, lest the branches
be galled. Because he loved Anna who loved the cedar, he must stand
underneath it directing the gardeners.
A sudden and horrible sound of rending. ‘Sir, look out! Sir Philip,
look out, sir, it’s giving!’
A crash, and then silence—a horrible silence, far worse than that
horrible sound of rending.