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It was drilled into me and every other girl that on your wedding night, your husband would be the first. My friend Charlotte back in Youngstown told me it was a little painful and there was blood.

"Eliza, it wasn't like that for me," Agatha interrupted. "It was just the most amazing thing. I insist that Justin do it to me all the time, except when I'm having my monthly."

I was led to a room, more like a dormitory where there were seven beds. "Most nights we don't get much sleep; the sounds of love echo throughout the room. This will be your bed; make it inviting for whomever you wish to share it with," the fifty-six-year-old Gladys Comstock smiled. "If you have any questions or just want to talk, my bed is right next to yours."

Miss Comstock was right. Throughout the night, there were sounds like I'd never heard before. Grunting, groaning; beds rattling against the walls. It was a cacophony of sounds. One indistinguishable from the next. Although, just feet away, Gladys Comstock's high-pitched squeals seemed almost in my ears. "More, Elijah, give me more of your cock. Don't stop, not yet. Gladys' cunny loves your cock." It was like Gladys was ordering this Elijah around.

I tried not to listen to her or any of the other women, but it was impossible.

The very next day, while everyone was busy doing their chores, Mr. Carlisle took me to his room. A room he shared with six other men.

As you know, I was eighteen. Mr. Carlisle was forty-seven. "Girl, the first thing you have to learn is that the men here like to see what they're getting. Take your clothes off."

Not that I didn't expect that, but the way he said it; it was like an order. Just liked Miss Comstock ordered Elijah to fuck her.

It took me awhile, but soon I was standing in front of him wearing nothing; not even a smile. I was embarrassed. "You're a lot of woman, Eliza. I'm going to enjoy these."

He was still dressed. Mr. Carlisle got behind me and his hands were all over my breasts.

Speaking of breasts. Charlotte told me how much her husband adored hers. "Eliza, Agatha, Sam insists that I get on top of him and rub them in his face before, well before you know."

"I wish I had ones like yours. Justin plays with them, but I don't have much to give him. Eliza, I'll bet when you get married, your husband will go crazy over yours. They're probably like udders." Agatha seemed sad that her breasts were small.

See what I mean. Even my dearest friends didn't think I was a woman. I didn't have breasts. I had udders. Like a cow.

I didn't show them to Charlotte and Agatha, but the following morning when I milked the cows, I had to admit, my breasts were almost as big as those cows' udders. Naturally, my nipples weren't as big as theirs.

Now, Mr. Carlisle's hands were all over them. "Eliza, you have the most fantastic titties."

I was glad he liked them, but his hands didn't feel all that good. All the men did farm work. Mr. Carlisle's hands were like sandpaper. On the other hand, to Mr. Carlisle, a man, I had titties, not udders.

As his hands played with my breasts, he whispered in my ear, "Eliza, you're going to love it here. All the men are going to love what you have to offer."

I didn't realize it, but while one of his hands massaged my breast, his other hand was taking the suspenders off his shoulders. It must have been ten minutes later that I could feel him, just like I'm certain those cows felt the bulls mounting them.

He bent me over his bed, and entered me just like those bulls did the cows. "That's it Eliza, take it all."

There was no pain. It felt so, so good. Then Mr. Carlisle started sliding his cock in and out. "You like my cock, don't you Eliza. You like getting fucked by my cock?"

Well, yes, I did, but even Agatha and Charlotte didn't use words like cock and fuck. I'd overheard some of the farmhands use them, but I was a lady, I just ignored them. Miss Comstock used them, but I'd never heard another woman use them.

I wasn't a lady at the moment. "Eliza, tell me to keep fucking you. Tell me you love having my cock up your cunny."

I was moaning and sighing as Mr. Carlisle slammed into me from behind. For the first time, I used those words. "Yes, oh yes, Mr. Carlisle keep fucking me. My cunny loves your cock."

A few minutes later, he started grunting, and grunted some more and then it was over.

Well, not exactly. We stayed like that for a few minutes. By that I mean, I was leaning over the bed and Mr. Carlisle was behind me. "Now, Eliza, stay just like that Mr. Montross is going to introduce you to his cock."

Then he was pulling up his pants and adjusting his suspenders. "Jack, this Eliza girl has the most amazing titties, and you'll love her cunny."

To say I was thrilled would be an understatement. Mr. Jack Montross didn't waste much time. Just like Mr. Carlisle, he mounted me from behind and his hands, his rough hands were all over my breasts. Or as Mr. Carlisle called them, titties,

Soon I was moaning and sighing again, and Mr. Montross was grunting. Grunting with each thrust. Those thrusts came faster and faster. I thought it was the most marvelous thing. "Eliza, you'll make the men here happy if you move that big rump of yours."

I was so embarrassed. I knew I had huge breasts and I was pleased Mr. Carlisle and now Mr. Montross, who was probably older than my father, liked them, but no one wants it pointed out that they had a big rump.

Still, I started moving it. "That's it, Eliza. Once you learn how, you're going to be a great fuck."

There was more moaning and sighing; more grunting and groaning. "Thank you, Eliza. You were fantastic. I'm going to want it again."

Later that evening, after supper, Gladys Comstock invited me to take a walk. "Jack Montross and Stephen Carlisle said you did well for your first time."

I blushed.

"No need to be embarrassed. I'm sure you heard me last night. Elijah is always so good to me. Next week, I'll invited him to my bed again, but tonight Tom Jensen will join me. He's eighteen and he can fuck all night. I'm so looking forward to it."

"I-I-I'm not sure how it all works."

"Eliza, in our society, we're supposed to be ladies. We're supposed to tolerate sex; not enjoy it. That's not reality. I love the feeling of cock pounding away at my cunny, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I can't do that in the rest of the world; neither can every other woman here. But, I can here. I can stand on a table at dinner and scream, ‘Tom Jensen, I want your cock.' I can tell him and any other man that my cunny is so ready."

"I—I-I . . . not sure I could do that."

"Once you know some of the men and boys, you can invite them to share your bed, but I'm sure by now Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Montross have told everyone about their time with you."

"Really? That's so embarrassing."

"It shouldn't be. That's what this is all about. Giving yourself freely to whomever you want. Having a man fill your cunny; any man. Just about any time. Let me introduce you to Mr. Beckwith. He'll show you a grand time and you'll beg him to do you again and again."

TO BE CONTINUED

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