Carl's Milking Begins

But before the long-awaited milking, Mrs. Johnson thought it was probably a good idea to give Carl a break. Producing a white dressing gown from the back of the chair she said, 'Pop this on Carl and take five minutes while I explain to the room what they are going to be witnessing.'

Carl took the gown and put it round him but, with his penis still fully erect, he had to tie the belt around it, flattening it to his stomach. With a hand, Mrs. Johnson gestured the way for Carl to leave the stage by a door to the rear. Once through the door, Carl could make out a toilet... He went in, shut the door then locked it. He needed this moment away from the eyes of the people in the room: of Mrs. Johnson, of Davina and Elaine, of Doreen, of everyone who had come up to the stage to get a close-up view of his penis. Sitting down on the toilet, his penis finally started to deflate, letting out a stream of precum as it did. Carl sat, his eyes closed, his heart beating, trying to make sense of this strangest of days.

Meanwhile, in the hall, Mrs. Johnson was explaining that Carl would now be milked and that she was going to demonstrate different ways of doing it and that the sperm milked from Carl would be collected so that everyone could look and maybe even taste what had been extracted from him. Carl could hear none of this. In fact, the first thing he heard as he sat with his eyes closed, his heart beating hard, was a rapping on the bathroom door. 'Carl?' It was Doreen's voice, sharp but kindly. 'They're ready for you, dear.'

Carl stood, tucked the dressing gown tighter round himself and unlocked the door. As he opened it Doreen was there, still looking proud. 'What a good boy you're being!' she said, taking him by the hand and leading him back towards the hall. 'And don't worry, we can have our own private milking later as well, after your big day.' At which she rubbed her lacquered nails over his crotch looking at him out of the corner of her eye, the tip of her tongue just on her lips.

Back in the hall, Doreen handed Carl over to Mrs. Johnson, as if he were an object or a pet, and Mrs. Johnson, still talking to the people in the room, reached forward, undid the belt on the dressing gown and slipped it from Carl's shoulders so he was, once again, naked in front of the room, his penis now soft, the tip red from the precum that had been leaking out of it.

'Ah, good,' said Mrs. Johnson, looking down at Carl's soft penis, which, even in this state, was a lovely sight. 'We can start from scratch.' Sitting down on the chair, Mrs. Johnson carried on talking to the room. Carl wasn't really listening but it was something about trying different positions and seeing which one worked best for your particular boy. As she spoke, Mrs. Johnson was more or less at eye level with Carl's penis and balls and close enough that Carl could feel her breath.

'The most basic position for the milking of a young man is on your lap,' said Mrs. Johnson, gesturing to Carl to sit on her knee. This felt strange to Carl. Intimate. He hadn't sat on anyone's lap since he was a child and here he was a late teenager about to sit on the lap of a much older woman. Mrs. Johnson tapped her knee to indicate to Carl that he needed to take his seat now and Carl, blushing to his shoulders, sat on Mrs. Johnson's thigh, the skirt material scratchy against his bottom.

Mrs. Johnson positioned Carl by placing her hands on his waist so that he was sitting with his legs apart facing the audience and his arm around the back of Mrs. Johnson's neck. The whole thing felt uncomfortably intimate, especially with Carl having to actually touch Mrs. Johnson and not just be touched by her. He could smell the old-fashioned perfume and feel the shape of her breasts against him.

'If you position your boy like this,' said Mrs. Johnson, 'then not only do you get a good grip on his penis but you can use your other hand to massage the testicles and, of course, if you have people observing they get a very nice view of proceedings...'

Carl looked up almost to check that this was true and sure enough the eyes of the whole room were at the level of his penis, which was just starting to harden against the fabric of Mrs. Johnson's skirt.

'Ah, here we go,' said Mrs. Johnson, noticing - or maybe feeling - the beginning of Carl's erection. 'There really is no more beautiful a sight than that of a young man's penis as it grows from soft to hard. Just look at that graceful movement. You might even notice jerks in the penis as it becomes erect. This is of course the blood entering the organ, which is what makes it hard.'

Within moments Carl's penis was totally hard and standing flat against this stomach, the precum already leaving a little mark on the smooth skin. 'Be careful not to dive in too quickly,' said Mrs. Johnson. 'Take your time to enjoy the hesitation and to arouse your boy fully, not only physically but mentally, emotionally even. You'll find that if you put your hand near the penis but not on it, it will follow the heat of your flesh.' To demonstrate, she put her hand centimetres from the tip of Carl's penis, which was already leaking precum, and, sure enough, it twitched, almost involuntarily, to touch Mrs. Johnson's hand. 'You see! It's as if the penis needs to be touched,' she said triumphantly. 'This is something you can try for a while. The flexing of the penis is probably strengthening it, so it's worth putting some time in.'

Having toyed with Carl like this for a moment or so, Carl felt Mrs. Johnson's fingers close around the shaft of his twitching cock and the fingers of her other hand begin to massage his balls. 'The pressure you use is entirely up to you,' she told the room, 'but I would suggest not to hold the penis too tight, especially not to begin with.'

Carl's eyes scanned the room from his beaming hostess Doreen to Davina and Elaine, who seemed to be discreetly touching themselves in the front, their eyes fixed on Carl's penis as Mrs. Johnson gently moved her hand up and down the pink flesh. 'Remember the head is by far the most sensitive part of the penis so it's best to start on the shaft before you move onto the head... We don't want anything happening too quickly, do we?' There was a little laugh in the room. 'And we are here to build up a boy's stamina so that he can hold his sperm until he is instructed to release it.'

At that, Mrs. Johnson moved her curled-round fingertips over the precum-slicked head of Carl's penis, a movement that made Carl gasp. 'You see what I mean,' said Mrs. Johnson to a few giggles from the audience. 'Unless you're in a rush to get your morning milking done before school or work, I would advise to take time - make time - to give your young man's penis the attention it deserves. Compliment him on it. Show it some affection. Maybe taste the precum, just to show your appreciation. The longer you can keep him in a state of excitement, the better and more plentiful the milk you get from him is going to be.'

Mrs. Johnson continued the slow strokes, occasionally including the head of Carl's penis, which would make him flinch every time, as the audience looked on transfixed, many of them unconsciously licking their lips at the sight of this beautiful penis being rubbed, the precum sliding down it to be used as lubricant, the pink shaved balls bobbing gently up and down. Davina and Elaine and those in the front could also see underneath the balls to Carl's anus, which was clenching and releasing with each stroke.

'So, that's your most basic milking position,' said Mrs. Johnson, tapping Carl's thigh to let him know he could now stand up, which he did, instinctively turning his back to the audience. 'As lovely as your buttocks are, Carl, I think we're here to see what's at the front, don't you?' said Mrs. Johnson in a patronising, sing-song voice. Carl turned round and stood with his penis hard and bobbing while the entire room watched and whispered about it.

'You can milk a boy on your lap anywhere,' she went on, 'though do make sure you have a receptacle at hand to catch the sperm. You can, of course, collect it from your boy's belly if you miss it, no harm done. But if you have a table...' And she turned to indicate the table, 'you can get your boy to lie on it, face up, and you'll find you have access to all of his body.'

She gave Carl a nod of the head to say 'hop up', which Carl did, lying with his head away from the room, his feet towards it. 'A pillow can be nice in this position so that your boy can see what's going on...' At this point she put a pillow under Carl's head. 'And so that you can see his beautiful face...' a slight giggle from the room, '...and the effect you're having written all over it. And I think we have a very beautiful face to work with here, don't you?' said Mrs. Johnson to the room, making Carl blush. He never thought of himself as beautiful just as... well, useful.

'Open your legs, Carl, we need to be able to see,' said Mrs. Johnson, a little unkindly, a little like Carl was stupid or something, taking back the 'beautiful' comment. Carl did as he was told...