Hucow The Pregnant Moo Cow (Part 2)

by Bessie Hucow

With their new Hucow business booming, Peggy - who is now six months along with another man’s child - and Jack closed down their traditional delivery service and even hired a new employee, Emily. A new client offers both Emily and Peggy a very large sum of money if he can take them hard and without protection. But they have to make their decision now. Will the amount be enough to overcome the fact that Peggy’s husband is away and won’t learn of it until it’s too late? Take a peek inside to find out!


Apparently, word spreads fast in our little town. Of course, I should have known that already. After all, I have been responsible for many of those gossip sessions. Some of which, I'm sure, set the operator's ears on fire.

So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me that other men in the town would soon become interested in what we were doing. After a couple of months, we were able to sell the cows and offer "natural" milk straight from the source. Our wallets grew as fat as my nipples.

I felt like such a whore! I loved driving to the men's houses (and even some women) and expressing myself into their coffee or even let them drink it right from my breast. Who knew there was so much demand! It was almost more than my milky mammaries could keep up with.


It was a good thing, then, that my husband found a single mother who needed some extra income and was willing to part with her breast milk. It was fun working with her. She was a short, stocky brunette with large, milk-filled breasts and a shy but dazzling smile. Emily was a perfect fit.

Overall, it was a fun experience. I got plowed every morning by Bert who paid good money to knock me up and treat me like a cow. I actually came to like getting treated like a naughty cow and made to kneel on all fours and get milked. I also grew to enjoy the taste of my own milk.

I also enjoyed getting fucked by another man other than my husband. It wasn't every day that a proper woman in the 50's could say that her husband let her fool around. I guess ten-thousand dollars was too good to pass up.

As my belly grew, so too did my horniness. Even though I was visiting Bert every morning and then coming home to my husband, I was still masturbating three or four times a day on top of that.

Call it fate or what have you, but another one of my husband's clients (former clients as we no longer delivered cow milk) visited one morning when I was about six months along.

"Hello Mr. Samson, what can I do for you this morning?" I said, smiling, as I answered the door in my petticoat.

He looked me up and down appreciably, while taking off his hat. "May I come in?"

"Sure!" I said and swung the door wide for him. "Can I get you some coffee or lemonade?" I asked as I headed to the kitchen.

"Do you have any ice tea?"

"Coming right up, Mr. Samson."

"Please, call me Carl," he said and sat down on the sofa.

I brought him the iced tea and some cookies that I'd baked last night. He seemed delighted.

"So, what can I do for you, Carl? We haven't seen your face around the farm in a while."

"Well, I just wanted to see what you guys were up to. I don't know what happened to cause you to close down shop suddenly like that, but the replacement milk-man just isn't the same."

"You mean John? Yeah, he's a" I agreed and we both laughed.

"But that's not why I came by." He turned in the sofa to face me better as he nibbled on a cookie.
"Oh?" I leaned back and rubbed my tight, six-month pregnant belly.

"Yes. You see, I've been talking with Bert--"

I cut him off. "What Bert, my husband and I do are private matters and I will not have my name besmirched by baseless rumors."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you understand," he said as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook. "How much did Bert pay you?"

"I'm not for sale."


About the Author

Bessie Hucow is a cow. She likes doing cow things such as mooing and eating grass. She also likes to write very dirty stories. How does a cow write dirty stories? Simple, she nicked a computer and brought it into her barn where she writes under lamplight in the middle of the night when all her humans think she's asleep.

Why? To bring you the very best stories that a cow can write.

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