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The Real McCoys

A. Tellurian


Copyright A. Tellurian 2017

Smashwords Edition





This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of 18.


"I don't care who does it," Pa shouted, still drunk from the night before. "But somebody will, goddammit!"

He was referring to his morning milking, a daily event and so-called by my Ma who, according to her own admission, was responsible for its institution. She once told me she regretted coddling him in this manner, but once started, she said, a man is not likely to give it up. This fact I later learned for myself after being lulled to sleep, night after night, by the same woman who turned my father into the demanding brute he had become.

Kinfolk and otherwise called him "Bull", not because he was big and strong, nor surly and bestial, though he was all of those things. No, it was because of the size of his testicles. His enormous balls hung from his crotch and were so large that it was impossible for him to contain them in ordinary pants. Ma was forced to alter his trousers by making an opening in the front to accommodate their mass, and she sewed a flap of fabric on the front that swaddled his testes and hid them when he went out in public. But her effort was mostly futile. The townsfolk were aware of his unusual physicality and were not, generally speaking, affronted. To be sure, there were a handful of spinsters, prideful old ladies, and frustrated too, who, in spite of their apparent indignation, would have lovingly and gently handled those monstrous orbs if given the chance. But at home, he refused to contain them. The discomfort was too great and he insisted his bull-balls became engorged too quickly to bother with modesty.

So, after I was born, Ma took to milking him twice a day. His ejaculate would half-fill a bottle in the morning and he would top it off it in the evening. She would store his cream in the icebox and some of the members of our household would pour it on their oatmeal in the morning or just drink it straight from the bottle if they was thirsty. In fact, it was better than cow's milk, for it was richer and sweeter and there was no need to use sugar or any other kind of sweetener on or in the food. Needless to say, those who partook of it were strong and healthy and have Pa's peculiar anatomy to thank.

One might expect that his penis was also like that of a bull, but one would be mistaken. To be sure, his cock (as he referred to his male organ) was large, not so much in length, but in girth. It was, on the one hand, long enough to just touch the back of your throat and make you gag, but not so long as to choke you. And luckily, those who attempted to drink right from the source were not made to wait long. His cock was too thick for any prolonged oral stimulation as it caused one's jaw to ache after only a short time. The pressure in his gigantic balls from the accumulation of his man-milk was too uncomfortable for him to prolong its retention. Mercifully, his relief came quickly, for him and for those whose mouths were filled with his semen. Ma was glad others were able to take over her duties as her husband's milkmaid. The household was large and her daily chores left her tired. She rarely complained and was, for the most part, cheerful. Not only did she have her own family to attend to, but also the several lodgers who occupied our house at any given time. It was one of them that first provided a well-deserved hiatus.

"I'm too busy," Ma insisted. "Find someone else!"

That's when Pa shouted, "I don't care who does it, but somebody will, goddammit!"

Mr. Eberhardt got up from his chair at the kitchen table and said, "I'll do it!"

"You know what you're doing?" Pa looked at him skeptic-like.

Mr. Eberhardt shrugged. "How hard can it be?"

He knelt down on the cold floor in front of where my father sat at the head of the table. It seemed that he began to have second thoughts when he got up close to Pa's humongous balls, for he raised his eyebrows and cocked his head and drew in a deep breath. He reached for Pa's testicles and held one in each hand while sucking Pa's meat into his mouth. Pa was already hard in anticipation of his morning milking and placed his hands behind the grizzled head of the laborer. He pulled Mr. Eberhardt's lips tightly to his crotch and slid his dick in and out a few times and began filling our boarder's mouth with his semen. Every time Pa's balls contracted his penis twitched and Mr. Eberhardt's Adam's apple jumped up his throat and disappeared and then reappeared as the next spasm from those huge balls shot another river of cream into his mouth.

I counted twenty-three spasms and twenty-three swallows and I could tell Ma was surprised that anyone could keep up with Pa's effluence. The expression on her face was one of amazement and delight. Surely, there was no one who knew the difficulty more than she, having spent the past decade and a half twice-daily relieving her husband of his unusual burden. If asked, she would have said it was impossible, and yet, before her own amazed eyes, she witnessed it.

Pa released his hold on Mr. Eberhardt's head. His cock, still erect, slid out from between those talented lips, the organ wet and shiny in the morning sun that streamed through the kitchen window. Mr. Eberhardt swallowed one last time, rose from the floor and stood there for a few seconds looking at the bowl of oatmeal at his place at the table and then at Ma who stared at him incredulously and then back to his cereal.

"Well," he said. "I've had my fill. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course," Ma said. "Off to work, then?"

"Yes," he said to her, and he started for the door.

"Have a nice day!" She said, just before he closed the door behind hisself. She turned around and looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and went back to her morning chores.


Ma got hitched when she was 16, which worried everyone 'cause she was nearly getting to be a old maid. Ma had me first, and then came my brother Jeb the following year. Eleven months later, my sister Daisy Mae was born, a girl of unusual beauty and endowments, a fact that she seems oblivious to. She grew up thinking all those boys that hung around her like bees in a sunflower patch just liked listening to her talk. My brother Jeb takes care of the boys Daisy turns away. They have to get their release somehow and Jeb's always there for them, bless his soul. It's one thing putting your meat to a feller, but it's another getting it put to you. Pa wouldn't like to hear that about his own son so we try to keep it from him, but maybe he knows already. I guess there's nothing we can do about it now. Lastly, there's Frankie, the youngest. He's a fine boy, but just remember not to let him alone with any of your livestock. He has a predilection towards sheep, but he's been known to breed just about anything.

"That boy sure has a way with critters!" Pa said.

Daisy whispered in my ear, "Should we tell him?"

"Naw. It wouldn't do no good. He's way past the point of redemption. And there's no use in getting Pa all rattled up."

"I 'spose," Daisy said.


We had some government agent come through here a few years back poking around and trying to find out why our women folk were so well-developed at such an early age. They was thinking it might be the water around here. So he did some tests and went back to Washington. We waited and waited for the reply but none of us ever heard from him again. Doc Perkins said we was just a good breed of people and there was nothing to fuss over, but it does make you wonder.

Over in Yeagerville, the girls aint even close to what we got here. Heck, the boys sneak over from time to time and try to get alone with one of our girls and we have to chase them off. Except for the one's that come to see Ma. She's kinda famous in her own right, famous not just for her beauty and know-how, but for the fact that, as far as anyone knows, she's never turned down anyone yet. Course, it'll usually cost a dollar or two, but there's a few boys she sees just for the fun of it. In case you're wondering, Pa doesn't mind at all. He's always saying, "If I wasn't getting what I need, then maybe I'd complain. But the Good Lord blessed her with a talent and it'd be wrong to let it go to waste."

And I'm sure the money she brings in eases his conscience a bit too. Besides, most everyone knows enough to bring a bottle of liquor just for him, and he sits there in the living room drinking and watching to make sure they don't get out of line. Ma appreciates that because sometimes the men that visit are too drunk already and they sometimes get a little rough. If there's more than a few of them, me or one of my brothers will sit in too, just in case Pa needs the assistance. And yeah, it is a little unusual watching your Ma breed with all those different men, but I grew up with it and I guess a body gets used to it, gets used to just about anything.

One night, just after dark set in, there was a knock on the door and outside were a bunch of the fellers from town. They come in a bit shy 'cause only a few of them had visited our place before and it seemed like they didn't know what the protocol was. They was all expecting to see Ma that night but one of them had his eye on Daisy and when he seen she was sitting there in the parlor with Pa and me, he kind of sheepishly indicated he was after her.

It was Daisy's first time being asked for specifically instead of Ma. It was Henry the Logger, a giant of a man, and handsome too. He looked pretty rough but in reality he was as gentle as a puppy.

"Ma'am, I hope you don't take no offense, you're a fine, fine woman and I aint never had no reason to complain, but I noticed your lovely daughter the last time I was here and I was wonderin' if—no offense intended—if I might have a poke with Daisy Mae?"

"Well, she aint never done it before, I mean, not like this. True, she's got a beauty that I 'spose appeals to some men—not like me, mind you—and she's not exactly professional, if you know what I mean."

"I do Ma'am. Never you mind then."

"Hold on there, young feller," Pa cut in. "Ma, don't you think you should ask Daisy Mae what she thinks? Maybe she'd like to try her hand at it. She could do worse. After all, she'd be learnin' from the best," he said, giving Ma a wink. If he was trying to appeal to her vanity it worked.

Ma blushed. "Aw, you're just sayin' that," she said, feigning embarrassment.

"This one's pretty big," Ma said to Daisy. "He's been here before. You better let me handle him."

"Aw, Ma! I want him. Besides, I think he's kinda cute." She was eyeing his face, not the sausage hanging between his legs. It's as if Daisy couldn't care less about that.

The man was flattered and thereafter, he came ever Saturday evening with the loggers when they came to call on Ma.

"I think that fellers' sweet on you," Ma said.

"Do ya really?"

"I do," Ma said.

"I have to admit," Pa chimed in, "I noticed it too."

"Well, golly gee! I'm kinda sweet on him!"

I think Ma was secretly glad that she didn't have to breed with the feller anymore because of the size of him. "I don't know how that poor girl gets it all inside of her," Ma said one night when Daisy Mae was out with him.

Of course, I knew it wasn't nothing. I had seen her take Old Roscoe, the horse we kept for pleasure riding. I figured if she could fit Old Roscoe inside her, she sure could handle this logger feller. Daisy Mae might seem a bit hyper-critical regarding this, what with her looking down on poor Frankie and his inclinations. But Daisy maintained that she wasn't partial to horses, she just liked them occasional if there were no boys around to satisfy her. That's all.

Well, that feller courted Daisy for a couple of months before he finally asked for her hand in marriage. Ma and Pa sure hated to see her go, said she had better finish her schooling because, after all, she was the only one of us who could tolerate it—learning, that is— and she was good at it too, but they gave their consent and off they went in wedded bliss. Henry the Logger said that she could stay with him at the logging camp during the week and that they'd come and stay here on weekends which suited everyone fine.

I decided to try my hand at logging and traveled with them that first week of their honeymoon, which wasn't much of a honeymoon, if you ask me. She was the only girl in camp and those boys get pretty lonely for female attention between weekends. It fell on Daisy to keep them satisfied, all 52 of them. It didn't occur to her or to Henry the Logger that they was sitting on a gold mine until about three weeks into it when one of the boys said he'd give her a dollar if he could go first. A bidding war or a kind a auction arose and before long the going price for first-served was ten dollars!

As it turns out, Henry the Logger was one of them creampie eaters. That man was over six and a half-foot tall and had the organ of a mule, and the thing he enjoyed most of all was lapping and drinking and licking Daisy Mae's semen-filled pussy after the whole camp had satisfied themselves with her. Daisy made me promise not to tell Pa and I never did.

I must admit, there was a time when I was taken with her myself. I aint never seen a beauty more than hers. Of course, I aint never bred her, her being kin. The McCoys aint that kind of clan, though there are enough of them in these parts. And I aint judging such folk either. Ma always says, "The Good Lord will figure it out at Judgment Day. Aint none a us without sin." But I was sorely tempted by Daisy Mae for a period in my youth and it weren't no fault a hers. She can't help it if she looks like that. Nor can she help it if she's the kindest, sweetest girl that ever walked these mountains. She taught me how to kiss and how to be gentle with my touching and she told me if I treat a girl right that they would treat me right, and that advice (and the lessons in kissing and fondling) has served me good. I have quite the reputation around here and I owe it all to my sister, Daisy Mae McCoy.

Well, I hope I've given you a good introduction to my family and background and I hope you find it interesting enough to keep reading the saga of the McCoys. The next one is told by my sister Daisy Mae wherein she tells about manipulating Pa into getting that horse and a few other things I think you might find stimulating. But that's all I'm going to say for now. Thanks for reading!


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