1. 3 A Dairy conversion part 1


    Date: 6/25/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: alibodge, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    no carpets to worry about. I had not long to wait as with a splash my chin, throat and chest received a stream of hot golden water, my tongue still on her clit the whole time, her face showing a look of real extacey as she had her first orgasm for months, a brief affair full of gasping and groaning. I was soon in the saddle my prick deep in her hot channel and the sofa back, beating a tattoo on the wall, in just a short time my hot jizz was splattering her womb as I came with as much power as I could muster. Miss-timed as usual but at least we had both made it for the first time in months which was a surprise and was proof if proof was needed that the “new we” had at least a chance if we could let ourselves go. We mopped up together then we showered and went to our bed making long slow love until we drifted off to sl**p. Over the next few days nothing was said, then a knock on the door on the Saturday morning, found us with a delivery of a long stout cardboard box, it contained two stout planks, bolts, straps and instruction`s as to how to construct a St Andrews cross complete with securing straps. It took 2 hours to complete the thing and it took another 2 hours to shift the junk that had collected over the years in our old dairy, (we live in a small Sussex farmhouse, with outhouses, on the outskirts of town, surrounded by council houses the nearest 100 yards away on the other side of a main road). An old armchair fell to pieces as we moved it displacing a number of mice. A ...
    solid wooden bench and a table to match we left in the milking stall, but the bathtub the mangle and the rotting horse collar found themselves in the “for sale” pile in the loose box next door. The space was perfect, a drained tile floor, two ring`s on the walls originally to tie the a****l being milked, and a strip light in need of replacement. Securing the cross to the wall out of direct sight of the door, putting a bolt on the inside of the door and a coat of paint over the windows completed the conversion of our dairy to our playroom and by the end of the day things were looking fairly presentable having been cleaned and scrubbed, spot lights in place of the old strip and even a coat of white emulsion on the walls transformed it. It was then we found the milking pump, a hand pumped 2 cup affair complete with spares in a wooden crate in a small store-cupboard, left by the last owner who had kept goats, we knew it would be just perfect. To our intense displeasure we had to go out that evening to a f****y party we would have been missed from, in truth we needed to let the walls dry anyway, Ann spent the evening being chatted up by one of my second cousins who had a “bit of a reputation” in the f****y while I quietly got well plastered. Sunday dawned, my head banging furiously; we were at home though how we got there I had no idea and Ann seemed in a mood over something though what she did not explain in typical woman fashion. We retrieved the car from the party venue later ...
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