Deacon didn't know anything about being a spy. But he still wanted to be a good spy. This determination had been a trademark all through his young life. He'd been shortest in his class in elementary school, and then in high school. That disadvantage, which would have made other boys withdrawn and uncertain, only made him try harder. The coach said he had no chance of becoming a football player with his sleight build, he became a pretty darn good running back. Taller guys made fun of him and said he'd never pull girls at his height, and he used his cuteness and charm to prove them all wrong.
Not that Deacon was interested in the sleight, waifish high-school girls he'd left behind in middle America. His interests lay elsewhere. Perhaps it was inevitable that, given his small size, he'd grow interested in larger, more mature women. It was fortunate, therefore, that he'd been given the task of observing the large house and property next door.
It was filled with women. Large-breasted, nubile, horny women. And apparently a couple of dudes. Why? Deacon still didn't quite get it. But his mom, more determined and ram-headed than even he, had assigned him the task of watching carefully. And his mom wasn't someone he could say 'no' to. Even asking her reasons was bound to earn sharp-tongued rebuke.
So, when Laura Reed quit her job at the Herron County police department, he didn't ask why. When she hauled up stakes and moved halfway across the country, he didn't ask why. And now that she'd told him to snoop around the large property next door, he was going to do it. It was, his mom said, filled with Herrons. The same Herrons that Herron County had been named after. The same Herrons who had been the target of the major case his mom had been working on for the prior four years.
The case was supposed to be closed. But his mom was opening it up again. Deacon had an idea it had something to do with a grudge she was holding against one of the women. He'd been told to pay special attention to the activities of a particular redheaded MILF… a woman named Veronica who turned out to have an absolutely enormous pair of tits. Needless to say, his interest in 'helping out' with the surveillance had gone up quickly, once he saw the target.
From what he could tell, the Veronica woman preferred the indoors. She stayed in a room on the top floor. The best part of his day was the morning, when he used his binoculars to peer out the window of his own bedroom, which was high enough to clear the tall fence around the Herron property and provide a clear view of the inside. Veronica always got undressed in front of her window, revealing the biggest, heaviest pair of MILF tanks he could imagine. He had no idea how she managed to carry them without falling over. He wasn't sure if they were the largest in the house - the auburn-haired mom had a pair that looked like over-inflated bimbo balloons, and seemed to defy gravity - but the boobs of the target were Deacon's favorite.
Invariably, he would end up jerking off while watching her. Especially on the days when the redheaded MILF decided to stay in bed and do a bit of masturbating of her own, the perfect wat to start the day. At such times, she almost always kneaded her breasts with her hands, making the massive jugs wobble and bounce like mounds of jello. Sometimes she fingered herself, sometimes she used a dildo that looked about the size of a pet iguana. Either way, Deacon always managed to bust a nut before she stepped into the bathroom and out of view.
His walls were filled with pinups of women who had beautiful, mocha complexions similar to his own. He had always been an ass-man. Or ass-boy, as the case may have been; he had only turned eighteen a few months prior. The posters of thick, round, bubbly black cheeks that covered his room were testament to that. Lately, though, he felt like he was being converted. There was, he'd decided, something to be said for tits. Especially, huge, alabaster milk tanks that could probably make even his dick disappear!
That was another advantage of being short. His athletic, slender 5'4" frame made his big, fifteen inch cock look even bigger. It was already a problem to hide it, especially since he had a wardrobe full of relatively tight designer jeans and urban wear. Even sweats weren't foolproof. On this day, he was in black denim and a gray hoodie, skulking outside the Herron property, looking for a chance to do some 'up close and personal' reconnaissance.
His mother had insisted. She'd become angry that he hadn't found any incriminating information yet. Deacon , she'd said, I know this Herron Family is dirty. You just have to look harder. Well, they were dirty alright, but thus far not in the way she'd suspected. From what he could tell, most of the women on the property spent their time laying around, masturbating, and fucking the male who also lived at the house. From the vantage in his room, he'd seen no drugs or illicit activity of any kind.
He had to get closer.
Deacon had a plan. The Herron property was undergoing renovations, and every day, several workmen would end up 'off the job' due to being seduced one or several of the girls. For this reason, there was high turnover on the job site, with new guys coming and going. This, he thought, would give him the perfect chance to slip in. Thus, he'd loitered by the fence that marked the property line, waiting for this chance… and at approximately 11 AM, it came. He watched as an orange-haired girl in wool thigh highs literally pulled a muscled construction worker away from the job site and into a supply shed, leading him by his dick. In his haste to get a blowjob, the man left his hardhat and high-visibility banana-yellow vest.
Deacon collected these, and suddenly, he was on the job . There were four or five guys bustling around, so he did his best to look busy as he scanned the backyard and pool area for likely hiding spots. The workers appeared to be expanding the house onto an adjacent lot. Trying to look like he had a purpose, Deacon walked around the side of the house toward the driveway, where he saw a Dodge Charger boxed in by a shittily-parked pink Porsche Carrera.
The garage door was open… and he heard an exclamation from inside.
"Gosh darnit… why won't this thing work?" It was a peppy, female voice, and Deacon immediately detected a strong Herron County drawl. He himself had a bit of an accent, but nowhere near as country as this. This girl sounded young, and like she'd just stumbled straight off of a farm and onto the west coast. Pressing his body against the side of the garage, he put his ear to the brick. There was a clicking of switches, a frustrated sigh… and then the voice again. "Sis told me she'd fix it! Now what am I gonna do?"
It didn't sound like drug talk. Yet, his mom assured him that the whole family was hiding their illicit activities. Deacon knew he would have to see more to know more. Stealthily, he sidestepped along the wall and peeked around into the open garage door.
Inside he saw shelves. Tools. Boxes labeled in marker, shoved all the way to the back wall. "JOY'S STUFF". "JANINE'S SCIENCE STUFF." Others. He could see why the cars were parked in the driveway, there were so many boxes by the back wall, a vehicle wouldn't be able to fit inside. None of them were labeled DRUGS or PROOF OF CRIMINAL ACTIVITY or CRYSTAL METH, though. And they were far from the most interesting discovery.
Where the car would have been, in the center of the garage, was a machine Deacon couldn't quite recognize. It looks a bit like a vacuum cleaner, and a bit like a set of bagpipes. It was a mishmash of strange parts and hoses, sitting on top of an old oil stain that darkened the floor. The emerging hoses were tipped with large clear suction cups that shaped like flower bulbs.
The girl leaning over it was even more interesting. One thing immediately jumped out - her breasts were absolutely huge. One could almost feel the bowling-ball-sized, sloshing weight of them as they threatened to snap the suspenders on her skimpy denim overalls. She was wearing a white tee-shirt, but the front of it was soaked through, revealing the pale color of her skin with an increasing pinkness toward the place where her large, raised nipples pushed into the wet fabric. These in turn hung against the overall straps, bisected by them, the denim strand digging in and really revealing how soft and bouncy each tit was. Just one breast was as large as his head.
At first, Deacon's heart raced - he thought he was face-to-face with the MILF redhead, the one who was his mother's nemesis. His mom had 'briefed' him about Veronica Herron; telling him that she was a dangerous seductress adept at corrupting innocent men. But a second glance revealed that this girl in the garage couldn't be her. She was younger, peppier in her movements, and her face had no shadow of vice or criminality. Rather, it was open and earnest. The girl was also thinner around the hips - even if her enormous fuck tanks were just as large. A daughter, perhaps. The striking red hair was just as fiery and crimson. And she was just as beautiful as the older version. With the very light dusting of freckles on her nose, and her hair pulled back in pigtails and decorated in blue bows, she looked very much like a certain famous fast food mascot… plus about fifteen cup sizes!
Then, Deacon put it together. The front of her white tee was not soaked through with water… it was milk . And the machine she was fussing over? A milking machine! A helpless whistle of arousal blew through his lips and he felt his cock jump in his jeans. The girl looked barely older than him, but she had an absolutely lewd pair of wobbling, jiggling milk tanks hanging off her chest!
She glanced up at the sound. All at once, the jig was up. Their eyes met, her surprise as plain as his desire for her. Deacon swore under his breath. Some spy he made. He'd wanted to do a good job, but now he was in danger of blowing the whole case. Automatically, his mouth started to stammer an excuse.
"Uh, sorry… ma'am… I was just looking… for some sheet rock, for the job-" Sheet rock? That was something construction workers used, right? He certainly hoped so.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" the girl exclaimed, her face lighting up. Deacon saw with relief - and astonishment - that there was no hint of suspicion in her eyes. The smiling redhead had taken one glance at his hardhat and vest, and simply assumed that he was part of the construction crew. "My tits are achin' something fierce, and Ginny's gol-darn machine is on the fritz!"
Deacon glanced sideways and held up a finger. "Uh-"
"Ginny's at the junk yard," the girl went on, and started to walk toward him. It was like watching two bags full of jello bounce as she moved. Her shirt was sopping wet in a three-inch radius around her nipples. Deacon bit his lip as he watched. Jugs. Milk trucks. Fuck mounds. Big, fat, jiggly funbags. He could barely hear what she was saying. The girl approached within a foot and extended her hand in a friendly greeting. "Name's Violet, but everyone calls me 'Wendy'."
"Wendy," Deacon managed, and feebly pointed to her hair. "Because of the-"
"Yep!" She gave a cheery, disarming smile… but it only lasted a second, as she looked down and her eyes widened. "Gosh! Looks like you could use some milkin' too!"
Deacon's eyes followed hers. His jeans had grown extremely tight because of the burgeoning hardon trapped in one leg, and this young redhead was no fool. She'd spotted it immediately, which filled Deacon with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Through his binoculars, he'd already seen the seductive way the women in this house treated the construction workers. Before he even had time to think, she was reaching out to touch the tube-shaped outline bulging below his waist.
"Golly, that's a nice hog!" she said, flashing beautiful, brilliant green eyes at him. They dazzled above a tiny crop of freckles below each one. "How about you help me out, and I'll return the favor?"
It was an indecent proposal… but something about the way the girl's voice sounded - totally wholesome, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - made it impossible to feel too dirty. No, he wouldn't be producing his penis in an oil-stained garage, nothing so tawdry! He'd just be helping out a damsel in distress.
"O-ok!" he blurted, as her hands went to his waistband. A snap of belt buckle and buttons later, she was hauling his half-hard meat out.
Here it comes, Deacon thought. The gasp of surprise. But what came as her warm hand gripped partly around his shaft was more appreciative than surprised, and Deacon quickly realized why. His cock was big - the biggest he'd seen, anyway, bigger even than the porn stars he sometimes watched clapping those ebony MILF cheeks on the internet - but the guy living in this house, Jon, had one that was even bigger. Deacon had seen it in action, out in the pool area.
"This's a real nice one," Violet complimented him. "Kinda like the boys back home! It could probably even beat our horses!" Again, something about her earnestness was effortlessly endearing. There was an innocence in the way she acted… but only to a point. She started jerking his cock slowly as their bodies pulled closer together and they locked eyes. They were about the same height.
"You're kinda short, huh?" she asked, and Deacon gave a chuckle.
"Depends where you measure!"
She blushed and giggled. "That don't bother me none," she assured him, and her handjob started to become very pleasurable indeed. The tip of his cock was pressing against the soft, warm bulge in the front of her tee shirt… stabbing up into some seriously bouncy underboob. "I was different growin' up, too!"
Yeah, she was different alright. Deacon winced as he felt his knob get enveloped by milk-soaked, t-shirt-wrapped boob. There was so much jug area to cover, he could almost thrust right into it, like a pin into a pincushion. "That… feels really good!" he managed. "B-but… I should help you out, too… that's the deal, right?"
"You're darn tootin'!" And the grip on his penis lessened… but only long enough for the redhead to throw the denim straps from her shoulders and pull the tee-shirt over her head. It was tough going, since the shirt was soaked through, and clinging to her alabaster skin. As it rose, it got stuck several times, causing her to make cute exclamations of complaint through the cotton shroud around her head. Her tits rose with it, seemingly attached, too big to fall free.
Deacon's eyes were wide as saucers. He wouldn't be mentioning this in his report to his mother, the image of more and more underboob appearing as those big, pale milk tanks lifted up, up, up… and then finally fell from the wet tee with a satisfying, wobbling bounce. Violet threw the soaked garment to the side, shaking out her pigtails, and for the first time, Deacon was able to admire just how huge those tits were. What was her bra size? K? It had to be at least that. Yet the rest of her body was rather petite, and she had a nice set of hips that meant her denim shorts were still perched on her hips even without the attached suspenders!
"Wow," Deacon said. "S-so… you need me to-"
"Well, heck… we can kill two birds with one stone! But you better strip down those jeans, unless you want 'em soaked." There was a motorbike on a kickstand near the left wall of the garage, someone had been tinkering with it. She took his wrist and maneuvered him in that direction, encouraging him to settle back against the seat. Deacon let it happen. She knelt down on the smooth cement of the garage floor and knee-walked toward him. Deacon could see dark smudges on her knees and bare feet, it only made her look cuter, more country . He lifted his legs out of his jeans and let his long, heavy cock fall fully free - as much as it could fall, anyway. It was hard enough to be bobbing almost perpendicular to his body.
"Just… push 'em together around your big ol' dick, okay? I know what boys like!" She said it with total conviction, and she wasn't wrong. Then, the sexiest sight yet, she took hold of her breasts, compressing them slightly from either side with her palms… and offered them to him, lifting them up and forward toward his dick. As she did, Deacon saw first flecks, then rivulets of white emerge from around her large and puffy nipples in two-dozen places. She was lactating alright, and the very act itself seemed to be turning her on, if her lip biting moan was any indication.
He lowered his hands and took hold of those big, fat marshmallow jugs. They were soft and warm and heavy. He could almost sense the milk within, it was like holding a couple of liquid-filled balloons, but with even more give. He squeezed experimentally and she moaned. His fingers sank in and he felt flesh swell against the webbing between his digits.
"It feels… real good, when you squeeze 'em!" she assured him, her lower-lip trembling. Her face had become almost plaintive, begging him to continue, which Deacon found indescribably sexy. "You can do it harder! I really need a good milkin'!"
Given the green light, not knowing quite what would happen, Deacon pressed down from each side, really smooshing those fat knockers together around the lower third of his shaft, then kneading them upward. She gasped louder. He felt wetness explode against his pelvis as milk jetted, contrasting with his dark skin, running in rivulets briefly between the square impressions of his abs before dripping down onto his cock. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed, out of surprise. These weren't just tits, they were serious milk cannons! The warmth and pressure was like nothing he'd felt.
She rose up a little, high enough so her tits could move further up his shaft, near the tip. As his squeezing hands moved, so did her body, obediently following him along, letting him use her. The contrast of his mocha skin and her alabaster tits was delicious to behold. "They're real sensitive," she confessed to him, blushing deeply. "So… this feels real… real good!"
Deacon smiled a little. "So… you'd like it if I do this?" he teased, and squeezed down really hard with one hand, closing the circle of his thumb and forefinger around the wide protrusion of her nipple. Milk exploded in all directions, like a sprinkler turning on, and Violet gave out the biggest moan yet, not of discomfort, but something undoubtedly orgasmic. This cute, big-boobed teen was on the verge of cumming, Deacon realized. And all from getting her tits roughly handled!
"Y-yeah!" she moaned, her legs shaking. "You… can be as rough with 'em as you want!"
Deacon knew he might never have this chance again… and he wasn't about to waste it. Being the adventurous sort he was, he took every advantage of her invitation, and started to wear those titties out . He groped them and lifted them. Clamped his splayed fingers down so hard that he was sure she would moan in pain as he felt the delicious, soft compression of her flesh. He pinched her nipples, he slapped those big balloons, first softly, and then harder. The bolder he grew, the more he was sure she would finally give in… but apparently, Violet's huge tits were made to absorb his sexual aggression!
She never complained once. She just kept asking for more. And when he gripped one of her fat jugs and beckoned her to stand so he could raise it to his mouth, she eagerly complied. By now, his finger-marks were visible in red. He gripped, squeezed, and then milked, drawing his hands from up against her ribcage all the way out to the tip of her huge breast… and he could actually feel the liquid inside, creamy and thick and fertile, roiling in her ducts! Violet gave the loudest cry yet as Deacon opened his mouth and sealed his lips around her nipple.
He could feel it. The hot, smooth liquid spurting into his mouth, filling it. Dripping down his chin. The bumpy pores of her areola against his lips. He didn't just start sucking, he buried his face in that huge tit. He was a young man absolutely committed to getting the most out of his tit-sucking experience.
"Yes! Suck 'em! Suck 'em as much as you like! Drain 'em dry! It feels so good!" He kept his face pressed against her breast as his right hand moved to her pelvis and then down into the front of her overalls, finding them devoid of panties… and the soft mound below completely slick with her wetness. He slipped one finger inside, then two. Her hands clapped desperately around his back, pulling him close. "F-f-f-f-feels… real good!" she repeated, and threw her head back.
Deacon could tell she was coming, this innocent redhead was going off like a firecracker. Her insides were clamping around his fingers, her breast was pulsing out waves of milk, he could feel the heat of her body and the shuddering of her muscles as they clung together. His cock, jutting up at a 45 degree angle, was pressed against her chest, in the valley of her cleavage. He felt on the verge of going over the edge himself, but before he could approach the climax, she was gasping and starting to settle down.
He pulled his mouth away, saliva-strands breaking. How much milk had he swallowed? His shirt was soaked with it, a lot had run down his chin. The flow had actually been too strong to just start gulping. Yet, he hadn't minded, either. Something about draining this beautiful young tit-goddess like one might milk a piece of livestock spoke to hidden urges inside him. "Did you like that?" he asked, wiping his mouth and grinning sheepishly. He had a very charming grin, it was one of his best qualities - and had allowed him to prosper socially despite his lack of physical height.
"It was… real good," Violet replied, and now her hands were behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "It felt amazin' - it's always better with a real person than this machine. She gestured toward the milking apparatus, which was laying on the ground like a disused metal octopus. Then, she looked down at her chest shyly, in particular, her right breast. "But… there's a whole other one still to go, so…"
Deacon waggled his fingers. "Give it here," he said, and then both laughed. But then Violet blushed even more.
"Well, it ain't fair that you milk me twice before I even milk you once," she said. "That ain't how we do it back home!"
"Oh?"
She took a step forward, and reached to take a hold of Deacon's throbbing, leaking black cock, leading the head to lay against her chest again. A thick dribble of cum slid out to pour onto her right breast as she smoothly and gently ran her hand up and down his shaft. "Lemme show ya," she breathed, and pulled his cock down, making the knob indent her flesh as it moved, until it was poking directly into her large, pink nipple. Deacon could feel the pointy tip pressing against his dickhole. She shifted forward again, and his cock pressed into the flesh of her breast, pushing the tissue down.
They cried out in unison. Deacon had never felt anything like it. Violet's huge, soft tits were so big, his knob could actually sink into the warm, wet, milk-sopping flesh like one might press a finger into the golden surface of fresh-baked bread! "F-f-uuuuck!" he groaned, and clutched the parked motorbike to steady himself. He watched as milk exploded around his cocktip, running down his shaft, tickling the sensitive length all the way to his balls. "That's-"
"Not all of us girls can do this!" Violet explained, her speech strained as she squinted her eyes shut with arousal. "But mama says I'm special!"
"You… definitely are!"
"Go on… poke it on in there! Don't get all shy now!"
Deacon reached out and put a steadying hand on the back of her neck… then steadily pressed his hips forward. He felt an unspeakable, pulsing feeling of hot pressure as his penis compressed her nipple and inverted it, folding the flesh around it, pressing several inches. It wasn't far - the distance to her ribcage was perhaps six inches in all - but it still felt like heaven… and most arousing of all, the pores on her wide, pink nipple exploded with a flowering burst of mini-spurts, causing milk to erupt outward, all over his dick and pelvis.
"Fffffnnnnnngh!" he moaned. What else could be said.
"Keep doin' it!" Violet asked. "Please! It's workin'!
"Y-you… like getting milked like a cow, don't you?" Deacon seethed, tightening his grip on her neck… before he had an even better idea and grabbed her pigtails. She seemed to enjoy this, and held her own breast in place with two hands so he could poke his dick into it and force the milk out. He thrust his hips shortly, sharply, not able to move much, and occasionally feeling the hardness of her torso as he reached the limit he could press forward. The feeling of heavy titflesh around his dick was amazing .
"Yeah! Milk me like a big ol' cow!" Violet moaned. "Mess up my boobs with that big ol' horse pecker!" That this dirty talk was rather agrarian-themed didn't make it any less hot, and Deacon groaned and felt the pleasure building in his cock. The combination of the milk lube, the the sensation, and the visual of pressing his big dick into her breast and making it fold around him and bounce back each time, was too much to resist!
"Oh… fuck, I can't hold it!" he blurted, and then gasped as hot lances of sperm burst from his long cock and into the recess that his prick tip had formed in her boob. He held himself in place, forcing his cock as far as it could go, putting on the most pressure possible. She threw back her head and wailed, her breasts 'ejaculating' their milk even more copiously, really soaking them both, splattering Deacon's twitching balls with their streams.
He was stuck with every muscle tensed, his hands falling from her hair to the bike seat. After four or five spurts directly into that warm pocket of flesh, she shifted and let his cock slip out, catching it between her breasts as it bobbed and spewed. It was an obscene sight, such a long, dark-skinned cock entering at the bottom of her pale cleavage, disappearing, and then reappearing to glisten and pulse right in front of her pretty face. A couple of seminal ropes sprayed over her mouth and lips before she opened wide and clamped those pretty dicksuckers down on his knob, elongating her mouth like a suck-tube and making smoldering, plaintive eye contact ("please, feed me!" it seemed to say), as he finished his climax.
His cock throbbed in the tight channel of her tits. Veins pulsed in time with the spurting of his cum and the hitching of his balls, which were as proportionately large on his small body as his mammoth cock. Violet's lewd suckface, combined with her large and expressive green eyes, really did make her look like a hungry, nursing baby animal, desperate to drink her fill from his blasting, ejaculating cum spigot. It was unspeakably hot, and Deacon enjoyed every moment of emptying himself, filling her mouth, listening to her swallow, as she massaged and milked his pipe with her milk and cum-soaked tits. She even started making noises of satisfaction, as if to say that the amount and taste of his issue was meeting with her approval.
She wasn't kidding about the milking , he thought. She's country as hell, and she's probably milked a bunch of cows in her time. Only this time, she's milking *me*, and doing a pretty damn good job of it, too. He saw a vision of himself in a barn somewhere, tied down to a table with a big hole in his pelvic area, his big, heavy cock hanging down like a cow's teat, ready to be drained. Along would come Violet, with her bucket, and they'd have themselves a hell of an afternoon.
The spurts slowed, then stopped. Vivian blushed, her mouth full, and let his penis slide from her mouth, showing him momentarily how much of his thick sperm was filling it, before closing her lips and then swallowing with a thick, satisfying gulp. A thick, gooey strand was still connected to her chin, trailing down to the top of her breasts. Deacon slumped down and exhaled. After a moment, she released her breasts from the inside of her wrists, letting them fall and bounce - quite a sight, believe me - thus releasing her hold on him.
She stood up and they looked at each other shyly, not saying anything. As before, she was unbelievably cute, almost bashful about her dick-draining abilities, or her need to get her big tits milked with regularity.
He was the one to break the silence. "Wow." He found that he, too, was blushing. He knew that he'd be getting his share of hardons, spying on a house full of extremely hot young women (and a couple of even hotter older ones), but this had been beyond his expectations. Beyond expectations, and, to tell the truth, beyond the call of duty. He certainly couldn't report this encounter to his mother.
"Thanks for helpin' me out," Violet said. Then, she avoided eye contact and rocked on her bare heels again. They were now stained with dirt from the garage floor, but that only made it cuter and more rustic. "You're… a lot cuter than those other fellas!"
"Other fellas?"
You're a construction worker, idiot, Deacon's brain immediately told him.
"Oh, right! The other guys! Well… I just started on the job, so… I guess I'm the junior man on the team."
"For bein' junior you got a big ol' dick!" Violet said, pointing at his softening cock. The compliment was so well-meant (and accompanied by shy smile) that Deacon couldn't help but be absurdly touched.
"And you've got… some… big ol' titties!" he said, awkwardly. For emphasis, he swung his fist across his body. He was cursing himself immediately for sounding so lame, but Violet burst out laughing.
"That's right! Momma says I'll have the biggest in the family one day!"
With this horny-brain in a post-nut moment of clarity, and remembering why he had skulked onto the property in the first place, Deacon saw an opportunity to get some information. The girl's striking scarlet red hair was an exact match for the busty redheaded MILF that his mother hated most of all.
"Does your mother live here?" he asked, and Violet nodded.
"Yep! We all live here! We all came from out west after-" She trailed off, and her eyes shifted a bit. Deacon realized that she was coming up with some white lie to tell, not wanting to spill the beans about the arrests that had happened back in Herron County. His mother had told him about those. It had been a major case, and she'd been one of the lead detectives. But his mother also told him that Vernon 'Red' Herron, who claimed to be head of the Herron crime operation, was just a patsy who couldn't steal a pack of chewing gum without getting caught, let alone run a multi-million dollar narcotic ring.
"-some trouble happened," Violet finished. She was a sweet girl and didn't like lying, he could tell. Deacon felt guilty making her. Yet his mom wouldn't accept that, she wanted results. He also realized that he wanted to see Violet again. Maybe earning her trust would allow him to investigate further into the Herron mystery.
Also, I want to plow her massive tits again, he admitted to himself.
Also, she's really nice and you want to see her again, and you're worried your mom is kinda obsessed , his brain added. This part, he couldn't admit to himself, or even consciously think.
"You know, if your sister can't fix that machine," he offered, gesturing toward the fallen contraption, "I could… come over and help you out tomorrow, too." He was pulling up his pants, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to tuck his fat cock back inside. It wasn't an easy task.
He could tell Violet was touched by the offer. "W-well, I think sis will have it patched up soon… she can fix almost anything!" she said. But there was a twinge of regret in her voice and she went on. "B-but… if you're on the renovatin' job… maybe I'll see you again anyway?"
She was blushing. He was blushing. They blushed together. "I'd like that," Deacon said. This was his in. He had an inkling that if he poked his head in, this busty redhead would smuggle him into the garage for some fun, no questions asked. And once more trust was built, he could do some snooping around for proof. Ledgers. Illicit materials. Trap doors leading to grow houses full of the sticky-icky. That sort of thing.
He lifted off of the bike, already wondering how he would reconcile it all. His mom had her instructions, and he had his own desires, both physical and mental. He wanted to please his mom, of course, but he also didn't want to take advantage of this naive country girl. "I guess… I'll see you around?" he said, and started to move past her toward the open garage door and the light and sun of the afternoon.
He was a few steps away when he heard her say 'wait!'. And when he turned around, she had stripped her milk-soaked coverall shorts off, leaving her body pale and curvy and nude as she bent over the seat of the motorbike, looking back over her shoulder with an inviting, trembling smile. "You did the milkin' and the feedin'... so… don't you want to do the breedin'?"
With one leg up on the side of the bike, Violet lifted one of her round, bubbly ass-cheeks, revealing the steaming pink crescent of her sex. Her skin was so fair that it was easy to see the blushing areas of her thick outer labia where the blood had rushed. Her pussy was absolutely hairless, the slit pink as bubblegum and glistening with wetness.
Deacon blew a shuddering, involuntary breath out of his nose. His cock almost immediately hardened, so quickly he felt like it was going to rip through the leg of his jeans. Looking at the pigtailed girl before him - with her massive tit-tanks bulging enormously, so large they could be seen even from directly behind her, and hanging down nearly to the seat of the bike - he responded the only way a warm-blooded young man could. "Yes," he said. "Yeeeessss I do."
His hands were at his belt buckle and he was barely waiting to be in position, peeling off his jeans as he walked. By the time he got into range, his cock was at attention, drawn and ready and just waiting to be sheathed in her heat and wetness. She reached behind herself to help guide it in, and his hands went to her hips. She had one knee up on the motorbike, giving him access to thrust in a curve, up and into her.
"Oh, fuck!" he grunted. It was like sliding into melted butter. All the attention to her sensitive breasts had made Violet ready for him, and though he didn't know how much of his long, thick penis she would be able to take, he pressed forward with abandon. He was pleased to discover that the answer was: a lot . He kept expecting her to cry out in discomfort, or for her pussy to reach its limit… but that never happened. She only threw her head back and moaned, and pressed herself back into him, until his shaft vanished almost entirely inside her, all the way to the balls. Her wetness cascaded over his sack.
"F-fuck!" he repeated. "That's… so tight!"
"And you're real big!" Violet replied, her voice strained. "I bet you've got a big ol' load of cum still left to go, don't ya?"
He sure did. Despite busting a nut minutes earlier, her amazing body had him ready to go again. They started to find a rhythm, bouncing against each other such that his pelvis clapped into bubbly ass. He could see her tits swinging, and since she was bent over the seat of the motorbike, they were hanging freely, really showing their size, truly looking like a couple of cow udders. He couldn't resist leaning forward, cock inside her, and pressing his chest to her back. By doing so, he could reach around to get a double fistful of those melons!
"Gosh, you really like 'em, huh?" she asked.
"I'm a fan!" Deacon blurted, and then, in time with his shortened thrusts, squeezed first one heavy milker and then the other as he pummeled his cock-knob as deep as it could go. The response was immediate, and he actually saw the thick bursts of milk spraying out in time with the pressure of his hands, first one, then the other. All that was missing was a metal pail to collect it, and they could have been in a barn instead of a garage.
"You're… diggin' real deep!" Violet moaned. "Milkin'… and breedin'… at the same time… is my favorite!" Her hands joined his on her breasts, squeezing along with him… and she was rocking her hips back into his, harder and harder. "You can be more rough and tumble, if you like! We country gals are built tough!"
Deacon felt a sudden burst of inspiration, as if he knew just what she was asking for. "Yeah… get milked… you… big-titted cow!" Deacon groaned, groping her breasts even harder and picking up the force of his thrusts. The jiggling of her ass as it smacked his pelvis was seismic and enchanting to watch. Her wetness was leaking down her thighs. And, of course, the milk spraying from her tits seemed limitless. The cow remark felt a bit strange to say, but also appropriate, and Violet didn't seem to mind. In fact, if the response of her body was any proof, it was exactly how she liked to be treated!
"Ah! You're breedin' me!" she gasped, and she reached behind herself to grab his hip, as if securing the connection between them. "I'm gonna have a whole mess of babies!" Deacon's eyes went wide. He hadn't been exactly sure of what was 'safe' and what wasn't.
"Wait, you mean, you're not-"
She reached behind with one hand again, bidding him to stay inside. "It's okay!" she assured him, and the pressure on his cock grew even more pleasurable as her young - and obviously fertile - pussy seemed clamp down, milking his cock even more expertly. He seethed a breath through his teeth. "Give me all that breedin' bull cum! Think of how I'll look, feedin' your kids!"
"Hnnnnnngh!" The sound that escaped Deacon's mouth felt more animal than human, perhaps appropriately for the tenor of their coupling. It was one of those moments where he knew that he shouldn't continue, but couldn't resist. The sexy sound of his melanated cock slicing into her soaking cunt box seemed to crash in his ears, and it combined with the heat of Violet's insides, and the pillowy, heavy feeling of her tits in his hands, to create something irresistible. And that wasn't all. The girl was perhaps not as innocent as she seemed; her words had drawn in his mind the ball-bustingly hot tableux of her on her knees, in a house they shared, letting two beautiful mixed-race twin babies nurse from her massive tits, all while sucking his cock like a heifer chasing her daily feeding…
It was the antidote to the self-consciousness he'd often felt, growing up so short in stature. She wanted his nut! To be his mare! And he wanted… needed … to empty his balls inside this bitch!
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccknnnnngghhhhh!" Deacon groaned. He buried his cock as deep as it could go, and squeezed down on her tits with both hands. He began to ejaculate straight into her womb, filling it to the brim with thick ropes of his semen, his shots just as copious as his prior climax, aided by her lewd words and the lewd situation. Milk exploded in a spray, all over the floor, and at the same time, his overflowing semen burst from her pussy, and started to pour out on the opposite side. She was cumming too, shaking along with him, moaning with each hot lance of sperm that entered her needy, breed-ready baby sack!
It occurred to Deacon, dimly, in a part of his mind that was secondary to all the pleasure, that perhaps he was making a bit too much noise. And perhaps, this beautiful young boobatrix had a hold on him as much as he thought he had a hold on her. But at that moment, he couldn't consider it. There was only the sensation of release, of emptying his big, fat balls deep into the gripping, sucking, draining passage of her pussy.
Another part of the infiltration that he'd have to leave out of his report.
Jon looked around the living room. Dozens of sets of eyes were on him. He stood in the center, and seated around him, on every conceivable surface and up against the walls, were women. Herron women. Though he'd gotten used to some trapping of the 'job' in the prior month and a half, he still felt like a piece of meat being dangled into an aquarium filled with piranhas. He wasn't wearing anything special - a tee-shirt and jogging pants - but he could tell their gazes were zeroing on his powerful muscles, and, of course, his crotch. Even the loose wool of his sweats couldn't hide the snaking bulge hanging down one thigh.
He exhaled, shutting his eyes, calming himself. Just do it, he psyched himself up. You've earned their respect. They'll listen to you.
"I know you all are tired of doubling and tripling up in the rooms, sleeping in the basement, and not having enough bathrooms," he announced. Jessica was sitting on the end table next to the couch, dangling her stocking-clad feet. She'd knocked a lamp over, sliding on to it. She was sucking on a lollipop and looking intently at his dick. Next to her, Victoria was straddling the armrest of the sofa. In the nude. She'd taken a shower that morning and simply decided against putting on clothing. Her pussy was shaved so smooth that Jon could see the reflection of the overturned lamp gleaming on her mound.
Focus! Don't let them overwhelm you! He cleared his throat and continued. "Now, you all know that we're adding a connected guest house so things won't be so crowded. And that's going to take a lot of construction work. Right?" He looked around to make sure they understood where he was going. A couple seemed to be missing. He didn't spot Violet, or her sister Ginny, both of whom usually stood out thanks to their scarlet hair. Jen was also missing, though this wasn't really a surprise. His sister's usual response to any request to attend anything was 'fuck off', accompanied by a well-manicured middle finger.
"So," Jon continued. "If we're ever going to get this done… you all have to stop seducing the workers." There were murmurs and excited bursts of conversation as the girls looked at each other and talked among themselves. Some of them were denying it, others seemed to be saying they had no choice because of the relative scarcity of good dick.
"But some of them have pretty big cocks!" Jenna complained. "And you're always busy!" There was a general expression of agreement among the girls.
Jon held out his hands trying to calm them. "All I'm saying is… the job has been stalled almost all week. Now, do you want your own rooms? And bathrooms? Or do you like waiting in the hall for an hour while Jenna does her makeup and dries her hair?"
Jenna's eyes blazed and she stuck out her tongue. "Don't single me out! Victoria takes even longer, shaving her pussy!" The pint-sized pixie, youngest and smallest of the Herron girls, was leaning against the wall in her fishnets, pink skirt and provocative halter top that exposed her breasts. Jon, for a moment, couldn't help but think about how easily he could silence her by literally picking her up like a doll and skewering her on eighteen inches of brat-punishing justice. But he had other fish to fry. Another burst of gossip and conversation was filling the room, as the girls argued about who hogged the bathrooms, who was forced to use the worst sleeping accommodations, and so on.
Looking to re-establish control, he saw that Janine, the bookish cutie with bright blonde hair and a penchant for fluffy sweater-dresses that hugged her figure deliciously, was obediently raising her hand, like a student at school. Unable to resist, and eager to push the meeting toward a more orderly format, Jon pointed to her.
"Yes, Janine?"
"Could we perhaps devise a rotating system, in which only some workmen are seduced, while others are permitted to perform their duties?" Janine asked.
"I think it would be best just to… you know. Let them do their jobs," Jon replied.
Then Jessica raised her hand. Jon, already regretting turning things into a Q & A, called on her. "What if we suck their dicks while they're working? So there's no loss of productivity?" she asked, before sticking her Tootsie pop back in her mouth, sating her oral fixation.
"Yeah, I don't think I want guys operating heavy machinery in the backyard, while getting their dicks sucked," Jon replied. A half-dozen more hands went up, including both of the Twins, in eerie unison. He was actually slightly afraid to hear what they might have to say.
"Look," Jon went on, wearily. "It's really simple. Stop. Seducing. The workers. Or…" he crossed his arms, shut his eyes and turned his head to the side. "No dick for you."
The loudest burst of objection went yet exploded in the room, and Jon let his lips curl into a bit of a satisfied smile when he heard it. The girls were gradually getting used to 'normal life', but it was still easy to dangle his huge penis in front of them as a reward, when the situation called for it. He guessed that the threat of not getting their backs blown out by his monster eighteen-inch meat would give them the willpower to forego a few nine-inchers in the backyard.
"This is… unfair persecution!" Jenna complained, then turned to Jane and Veronica, who were flanking the doorway leading from the living room to the kitchen. "I'm right aren't I, Aunt Jane? He's being a total dictator! It even has 'dick' in the name! That's where 'the word comes from."
Jane and Veronica looked at each other, then at Jon. This was a dynamic that occasionally occurred - the girls would complain about something or other, and, since Jon wouldn't budge, they would take their complaint to the other 'heads' of the family. Jane, who technically owned the house, and Veronica, who had been in charge of their lives while growing up in Herron County.
Jon could have been more iron-fisted and dominant, sure - but it was a lot of energy to constantly be laying down the law (and laying pipe). Plus, he didn't want the girls to get into bad habits of always obeying him - he wanted them to live according to their own unique personalities and desires.
"You all just listen to Jon," Veronica spoke up. Her arms were crossed, indenting her huge tits, which seemed ready to explode from her red blouse. "And stop being such brats. You can find dick on your own time and leave those construction workers alone!"
"But Aunt Jane has been fucking more construction workers than anyone!" Jenna went on, gesturing with her arms toward Jane, who had just finished a workout and his in a skin-tight emerald green body stocking, a silver leotard, and a headband. "Yesterday they didn't do anything because she collected them all for a gangbang!" By looking at her, one might think she couldn't stand flush against the wall just because her ass was such an enormous, protruding bubble of fitness MILF meat!
Jane immediately looked guilty, refusing to make eye contact. "Y-yes, well… that was before Jon… asked me to stop!" she finished. "From today on… I won't do that anymore." Jon rolled his eyes. This was not precisely true, he had been asking her to stop ever since the job started. But nonetheless, he appreciated the support. His mom tended to be turned on any time he asserted any authority. Which he honestly felt was kinda hot. It was her way of encouraging him, which was as close to conventional mothering as a Herron mom was likely to get.
"Okay, meeting over," Jon said. "Everyone enjoy your day." And the murmur of conversation (and complaining from the horny girls) almost drowned out a crashing noise and associated cries of pleasure from the garage. Almost… but not quite. It was loud enough to make Jon raise an eyebrow. The female cry he recognized - it was Wendy, who tended to get a bit loud as she used her milking machine. But the other? He could have sworn it was a male voice. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Magnus, or Jen, all morning.
He thought he might investigate - at least to make sure Jen wasn't banging some guy on the hood of his car - but before he could, he felt two pairs of hands fondling the front of his sweats. Expertly. Two old pros.
"Mmm… you showed them who's boss," Jane purred into his ear. She had the wonderful scent of perfume and workout sweat. "It really turns me on that my son is such an alpha stud! "
"If I'd had someone like you back home," Veronica whispered in his other ear, "we would have made so much money!"
"You two…" Jon groaned. "This… isn't…"
"I'd be so hot to watch you fuck all the girls at once, Jon," Jane said, nibbling his earlobe. "Just line them up and fuck them all, to show off what a breeding bull you are. And I'd suck your dick hard between each one." Her hand groped his shaft. "Mmm… any mother would be proud of this donkey dick…"
"-and you could fuck my daughters, right in front of me," Veronica said. They were sandwiching him now, between their two amazing bodies. One brick shithouse fitness MILF with enormous balloon tits and a bubble ass… one mega-juggs horny redhead mom who had a big, round butt in her own right. "You know, if it was you… I wouldn't even mind if you turned them into a sex slaves…"
Jon let out a helpless breath. His day was about to get longer. Jane and Veronica's support of his new 'no fucking the workers' rule was going to have a cost after all… and his cock was getting rock hard in his pants at what that cost might be. Just like them, he had his own appetites, which they were expert at exploiting to get what they wanted.
They led him upstairs, to the master bedroom. Minutes later, his desire to investigate the garage was completely forgotten.
Deacon was seated on the floor, breathing hard. He'd nutted so powerfully that he'd stumbled back and his ankle-binding pants had sent him right over on his ass. Now, he was clumsily trying to pull them up, his half-hard, spent dick making the task rather difficult. He had a dazed, happy expression on his face. Yes, he was short. Yes, he was young. But he'd fucked a good number of girls in his time back east, thanks to his cuteness and humor and boldness.
None of them could hold a candle to the fuck he'd just had. The huge-breasted girl with the red pigtails had begged him to do it animal-style, and he'd cum so hard inside her that he felt like he'd shot his balls out through his dick. Now, all that was left was to pick up the pieces… and consider the one aspect of the coupling that he'd managed to ignore up until that point.
The risk of pregnancy.
Violet had outright told him that she wanted him to dump a whole mess of baby seeds in her pussy. Heck, that had been part of the fun. The acceptance of it, the molten desire of such a hottie wanting to take care of his offspring… it was extremely hot, in a strange, animal husbandry sort of way. Now, with passions cooling and the garage splattered in spilt cum and spilt milk, his brain was returning to the anxious side of the equation.
"Hey," he said, gently, his voice weary. "Hey. You didn't really mean that, right? About wanting to get pregnant?"
Violet was still bent over the motorbike, and only returned to an upright position at his question. She sat her shapely ass down on the bike and wiped her forehead, like a farmgirl who had just finished a hard schedule of chores. "Whew! Well… it don't matter none," she replied. "I ain't on the pill or nuthin', but it takes a whole lot of fuckin' to get Herron gals pregnant!"
Deacon blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… I dunno. I feel like I… you know. Filled you up pretty good."
"Darn tootin' you did!" Violet said, smiling. "But we Herron gals are built different, that's what mama says. Our eggs are stubborn, and don't wanna shake loose except with a whole bunch of creampie fuckin' with the biggest dicks around! Like, a hundred times, or even more! To grow a crop with a Herron girl, you have to be plowin' and plantain' every night! Just like on the farm."
Deacon wasn't sure he understood all that… or believed it, if he did. But the general gist was, he didn't need to worry. He allowed himself to believe it, and asked no more questions. Rather, he stood up, and finally succeeded in pulling up his pants and resituating his problematic, hanging cockmeat. "Well," he said. "That was… pretty cool. Violet."
Her cheeks reddened a little. "Aw shucks, it'weren't nuthin. You helped me out, that's all." She paused. "What was your name, again."
Deacon smiled to himself. She had fucked him without ever asking his name. Fitting, it seemed, for this strange house full of beautiful women. "Deacon," he told her.
"Well, Deacon… you better get out of here before any of the other girls spot you. They can be real aggressive if they know you've got a big ol' cock!"
Deacon looked around with alarm. The idea of being hunted down by the other women hadn't occurred to him. It was alarming… and arousing, as well. But there was one woman he knew he had to avoid. The older redhead. She was crafty, according to his mother, and more importantly, had seen the face of Detective Laura Reed many times. The chance was there, however remote, that he might spot a resemblance.
"Can ya come back tomorrow?" Violet was asking. "Bright and early?"
Yes. Yes. Yes. His mind chanted it at him. Plow those jugs again. Give her a proper titfucking and bury your dick between those fat, pale milkers!
"W-we'll see," he managed. "If I'm on this job… I'll try to swing by and… help out. For now… I have to… get back to work." He raised a hand in farewell, and she mirrored the act, a hopeful expression on her face. Hopeful, and innocent.
Suddenly, Deacon felt very much like a heel for not telling her the truth about his infiltration. How would Violet react to him if she knew he was snooping around, trying to get damaging info on her family? Not with a smile and a titjob, that was for sure. There were lots of girls in the house, were they all guilty of… what, exactly? Selling drugs? His mother seemed to think so. But he wasn't so sure.
But that was a problem for later. On this day, his mission had been a success. He'd infiltrated the house, gained some information, and (not that he'd tell this part to mom) met a totally ball-draining hottie. The satisfied ache in his dick was testament to how well that part had gone. Walking toward the open garage door, he felt scot free. He was even feeling himself a little. Deacon Reed, double agent . Working for his mom… and working to take hot girls to pound town!
His designer sneakers took on what amounted to a strut. And would have remained that way all the way home, too… if, one step from freedom, he hadn't nearly walked face-first into another huge set of tits.
Tanned, perfumed, enormously round tits. He rebounded after hitting them face-first. He saw a crevasse of tanned cleavage, a too-small pink bikini. He smelled weed, cigarettes, pussy, and the sort of perfume that an exotic dancer might leave on the shirt of a businessman after twerking her ass on his chest for a dance or two. Violet had had a springtime freshness to her. This new scent was… much different. Much sluttier.
"Who the fuck is this midget?" the new arrival squawked, sharply. Hands on hourglass hips. Blonde hair in a long, bleached swathe, emerging from beneath a flat-brim hat. Fishnets, platform heels, a belly chain, manicured nails with lacquered, expensive designs. Her eyes were blazing aquamarine and her lips looked like they'd kissed a beehive.
"Uh… I'm-"
"Don't you bother him, Jen," Violet called out. "He's just one of them workers!"
"Nobody asked you, Boobs Junior!" the blonde spat, then turned her attention back to Deacon. She took a step forward, the top of his head came up to her chin. "Aren't you young for a construction worker?"
"I'm eighteen." He realized he should have said twenty-five. Had he really thought he could stroll into the lion's den, bang a hot chick, and walk out? No, his mother had warned him about the Herrons… and he somehow doubted that all of the girls in the house were as trusting as country-sweet Violet.
Her hands trailed down his abs and to his waistband. He got the sense she had done it a hundred, or a thousand, times before. "Uh… I really have to… get back to the job-"
"Shut up," she purred at him. Effortlessly, as if she was born to do it, she found his penis. The look on her face was honestly frightening, one of greedy, delighted discovery. "Oh… well. What do we have here? I guess Boobs Junior was holding out. Trying to keep this meat to herself." Her hand started to caress him… and in spite of cumming hard, twice, in the prior half hour, Deacon's body was responding. "This has to be at least fifteen inches once you get all the way hard," she purred. "What a monster cock!"
Deacon was astounded. Without even looking at it, she'd pegged the length exactly. The sign of a serious pro. I'm in the big leagues, now, he thought. And I don't think excuses about needing to go put up drywall are going to cut it, either.
She leaned over him. "Now, you listen to me, short-stuff. You're coming to my room… and you better be ready to fuck, because I want that long black dick up my ass."
Deacon shuddered out a trembling breath. What a total slut! Though the sight of his smooth, dark penis sliding into Violet's fair-skinned body had certainly been aesthetically pleasing, neither one of them had mentioned his race. The whole thing had been too wholesome for it, absurd as it seemed. And yet, this blonde-haired, bimbo bitch had brought it up immediately!
Her hand on his wrist, pulling him along, deeper into the house, past a grumpy-looking Violet, who clearly didn't like 'Jen' too much, and into the interior. One look at Jen's ass and Deacon knew it would be impossible to resist. He had a weakness for asses. It was part of the reason he could never say 'no' to his mom, no matter how strange her obsession with the case had become. And this Jen' had an ass that was bubbly beyond belief. It wobbled like a couple of lube-filled balloons, the cheeks nearly spherical as they protruded from her body and clapped beneath her sheer leggings, devouring her thong with ease. Shove his cock between those? Yes please. He would do it, and figure out the details later. And maybe, along the way, spot a few clues about the case.
They approached a stairway to the second floor, near the front entrance of the house. Deacon heard the voices of women, the sounds of movement. "I want you to fuck my throat, too," Jen purred, keeping him moving. "It takes a real stud to make me choke, so I hope you're up to it!"
Surveillance sure is a tough job , Deacon thought, as he led him up the stairs, but someone has to do it.