My biggest source of inspiration for the erotica I write is simply the hentai I enjoy looking at or watching.
There's a lot of it I could never "steal like an artist" for written erotica because it's too taboo or extreme for Amazon to publish. But there's no shortage of hucow and futa hucow on Amazon, so I'm good there. But yeah, lactation and hucow hentai/porn has always turned me on. A lot of people think it's gross and disgusting and it kind of is but that's why I like it. Wet, messy, kind of gross, extreme, and soul-ripping, cum-gushing orgasms. Futanari treated like some strange combination of cattle and whores: fucked, used, and milked--and they love it. They couldn't be happier to be so used, abused, and pampered.
That's my thing.
I could go on, but let's say I didn't and just make with the sexy snippet instead. Mia Presley is an investigative journalist with a penchant for underground stories. The world in the near future is divided into lawful and lawless zones to keep the pot from boiling over into revolution. All the action is in the lawless zones, of course, and that's where Mia finds her futa hucow ranch. Keep in mind this is unedited, first draft stuff.
Domino didn't just have a cock. She also had a pussy. Confirming my earlier instincts, she definitely wasn't a transsexual--at least not one like I'd ever heard of. A shining trail of juice streamed down her inner thigh. With the moves of a dancer, she flipped a couple switches on the machine at her side. The whir of compressors could barely be heard under the music.
Domino continued her dance, only now she ran her hands all over her breasts, massaging, pinching, and tugging on her nipples. Within seconds creamy droplets appeared, scattered all over her nipples. They dripped and ran down her smooth skin. As she danced, she also ran her fingers over her nipples, bending them and making them spring back into place. Droplets of her cream danced through the air, landing on eager tongues and skin around the stage.
Holding a massive protruding nipple in each hand, she spun as she squeezed them, causing cream to spurt out in a circle around her. It landed on eager skin and tongues. A thicker stream erupted from each nipple, surrounded by random, thinner streams which arced up in all directions.
Domino picked up a glass cylinder in each hand. The cylinders were open at one end and at the other end they narrowed. Clear plastic tubing coiled from them to the machine. The machine had a triad of gallon-sized tanks which fed into some kind of device and then into a larger tank. The tanks were made of glass. Inside each glass cylinder a white membrane fluttered in rhythm, like a pair of trapped moths. She held each one up to a nipple and worked it on. Suction gripped, holding the cylinders fast to Domino's skin. As each one took, she tilted her head back and moaned.
Through the glass, her nipple moved in and out. Streams of cream spurted out and coated the inside of the cylinder halfway down, then collected and tried to fill it. Her cream flowed through the clear tubing into one of the three gallon tanks of the machine. The other cylinder affixed to her other nipple and the same process happened.
A few years ago I had a fling with a woman who'd finally realized she was gay after having a child and living with her male partner for a few years. Their breakup was admirably amicable, but I remember making love to her and getting sprayed with her milk at the time as she was still breastfeeding her kidlet. At the time it seemed excessive, but apparently I had no idea what excessive meant. Domino squirted enough cream out of just one of those big knobby nipples to slake the thirst of a platoon of lactophiliacs. The rate at which the tanks filled was astonishing.
What was more astonishing was that the pleasure she took from it affected her cock. I stared in hungry, sick fascination as it engorged, pulsing and throbbing slowly as it did so, growing longer, thicker, standing out. The harder she got, the more her foreskin peeled back, revealing a deeply pink head, practically the size and shape of a ripe plum. A glistening bead of precum welled at the tip, then languidly drizzled to the floor of the stage.
Domino leaned back, arching her back, thrusting her milked tits out. This made her cock stand out more, too, especially now that it appeared to reach full hardness. It had a slight curve to it and was thicker in the middle, and it was riddled with veins. Her balls tightened up into a large but compact package between the base of her cock and her clit, which also appeared to have swollen, becoming a glistening pink button big enough to suck on by itself. Some people liked dainty little slits but I liked a big, meaty pussy that looked like it got wrecked on the regular.
Thick, milky strands hung down from her labia and clung to her inner thighs where they'd stuck to her skin as she danced. I wanted to stick my face in that, just rub my face all over it and slather myself with its sour, disgusting hotness.
"Anyone want to help a poor futa hucow get fucked? Get milked?" she asked, gesturing around with a wet hand.
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself lurching forward, so that I had to put my hands out to stop myself from colliding with the lip of the stage, just above my knees. I looked back to see Nadia grinning and making shooing motions with her hands.
The bitch shoved me!
I looked back up at Domino to see her extended hand before my face.
No going back, now.
I took her hand and she helped me up onto the stage.
"I was hoping it'd be you," she said, her voice husky with lust.
"What do I do?" I asked.
"My cock needs to be milked, too," she said. "Would you do the honors?"
I thought about what was really in that bottle I drank.
They're just getting started, it only gets hotter (and sicker) from there. Want updates? Hot hentai pics? Sneak peeks? Join my Discord, The Cabal: https://discord.gg/eCnrEyf and hang out. Why? Because most social media is too limited or too restrictive. The Cabal is like a secret dirty sex bunker, and underground temple where we worship the perverted.