Milked on Exhibition“You care for the male... assuring he must rely on you for every little needed thing... and there comes bonding. Hands always restrained, on Indiening Island a donor can’t even brush his own teeth, much less feed himself, urinate, empty his bowels... and be scrubbed, massaged and oiled.”
Miss Beth lectures an intently listening Miss Mattie as I lie on the short bench, being prepared for my scheduled milking and discharge. My wife’s lover stands before me as Miss Beth talks and works, first assuring my neck is strained under the high collar, then moving behind to deflate the bulb of the impaling anal hook and slip away. I look up to gaze at the presentation of pulchritude, the de rigeur island attire veiling very little. Miss Mattie’s fine form is an enticing conglomera
