In fact our 6 month anniversary was just around the corner. He was an amazing lover. Possessing all the tools in bed to keep up with my never ending sexual desires. I thought the days off my pussy ruling my life were over. Long gone were the months of sucking and fucking every random internet guy. The mock **** scenes and threesomes were stuff for fantasies. I went to therapy and worked hard to overcome my sex addiction. I was a good girl now. I had grown up. Finished my degree. Secured a job and settled down. We talked off marriage, k**s and the white picket fence -- the life most girls dream off. But I wasn't like most girls. Sometimes when I thought really hard I could actually convince myself my life was not a lie. Therapy had actually changed me. I had become the woman society expected me to become. But deep down my inner whore fought daily to be heard. It struggled against these societal bonds wanting to break free of its repression. Underneath that women I had become I was. 25 September: All the cattle have started producing and the pumping noise of the milking machines is now as loud as the painful whines. The black haired girl's B cups had now swollen to DD's and she lactated profusely. I sat and looked at her for a long time. Sometimes, she would break into panic attacks and struggle as hard as she could. The steel stocks didn't give at all, but, surprisingly, that didn't stop her most of the time. She hadn't given up yet, even after so many days here. I have to say she intrigues me. Other times she would stand looking down, lost in her thoughts, trying to get her mind of the pain on her breasts. There were some women that would be considered hotter in the "real world", but i found myself observing her the most. 2 October: It was near the end of my shift when a guy from the management arrived at the milking station, pushing a trolley. I took a look inside and saw what looked like a pair of dozen plastic cow heads. A simple design, with a few.
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