Milk Farm - Part 3

Although their kisses were passionate, they were somewhat one-sided. Stan was able to grope and caress as much of #347’s body as he pleased, while his partner could only stand there, returning each kiss with equal passion but unable to move the rest of him. Everything, that is, except for the massive cock that was quickly rising between #347’s titanic legs.

Stan didn’t feel the massive hog until it was already spraying a regular man’s orgasm worth of cum all over his thighs. The only difference was that it never stopped. Stan took a step back to see what he was getting covered in and stared in amazement at the puddle forming between them.

“This is nothin’,” #347 explained. “I’m not even halfway close to cumming. This is just… mild arousal I guess. Just you wait till I blow in your mouth--you won’t know what hit you.”

Another lighthearted chuckle made #347’s comment seemed like a joke, but Stan took it as a suggestion. He dropped to his knees so he was at eye-level with the constantly leaking python, his knees soaked in cum from the expanding puddle that was only now draining into the center of the floor.

Stan crawled forward and let the spew land on his face, luxuriating in the warm fluid up until a shot landed across his eye, then he had to blink furiously to get his vision to return. #347 laughed at Stan’s antics, but it never stopped him from spraying the smaller man down in his never-ending jizz.

“Most guys prefer to take my stuff orally, but I guess it’ll work through the eye’s membrane. Still, it’s probably going to go a lot easier if you just suck it.”

Again, the words weren’t said with any real weight, but Stan followed them as though they were a direct order. Licking the excess cum from his cheeks, Stan practically dove on the fountaining member, doing his absolute best to swallow each spurt as it was made.

Stan was already horny before, but something in #347’s cum seemed to supercharge his arousal. His own cock, already leaking a steady stream that seemed unnatural before he met #347, began to spurt its own smaller jets of milky fluid, adding to the standing pool beneath the pair. Stan was hornier than he’d ever been, the mere act of imbibing from $347’s tool almost as good as any sex he’d ever had before.

But there was so much coming that Stan could barely keep up, let alone move his lips in any semblance of fellatio. “You’ll have to get the timing down,” #347 explained with a contented sigh. “You’ll get it after a bit.”

He was right. Stan could tell there was an opportunity in between blasts of cum for him to breathe but also to move his lips, his tongue, and his entire head. It was a short window, so Stan started bobbing his head rapidly to ensure he had enough room in his mouth to swallow every time it was filled with #347’s precum.

#347 was already producing so much that after a few moments Stan felt like he was full from drinking an extra large milkshake. But then he felt a pulse along with a sudden “uh oh” from #347.

What was once almost gentle blasts of cum suddenly became an unrestrained torrent. There was no distinct spasm that Stan could feel, nothing to break up the onrushing flood--#347 was like a fire hose that had its valve suddenly and unexpectedly turned all the way open.

It was too much for Stan. He managed two more big swallows before cum was filling his sinuses and spraying out of his nose. He fell back coughing as #347 doused him in warm jizz that splattered everywhere--some even managing to force its way into Stan’s mouth to start yet another coughing fit.

“Sorry,” #347 muttered quietly. “I tend to have a bit of a hair trigger when a real cutie comes in to milk me.”

Stan couldn’t hear from his coughing fit. He was too busy trying to get oxygen into his lungs and #347’s cum out of them. But after a few moments of retching, Stan managed some ragged breaths that allowed him enough clarity to see that #347 hadn’t stopped cumming all while he was struggling to breathe.

“That ain’t gonna stop for a while, so if you want anymore…” #347 trailed off. Stan already felt more full than he’d ever been, but he still found himself drawn to the milky white fluid that was gushing faster than it could drain.

For the rest of the night Stan wallowed in the slowly rising cum levels, sucking it down from #347’s tap as often as his breath allowed. He was so drunk on cum that he never noticed his own stomach protruding more and more with each gulp, nor did he notice when the flood began to slowly reside as the torrent became a mere raging river. Nor did he notice when he finally succumbed to exhaustion and passed out in an inch-thick layer of jizz.

Later, two men came to carry Stan back to his cell and ensure he didn’t drown in his sleep. They also came with vacuum pumps to clean up #347’s cell--it was less efficient than getting it straight from the source, but there was no sense wasting it.