A Pervert's Dream Land.

Kael gripped Lyla’s puffy nipples, his mind racing with the urge to throw her down and take her right there.

He bit his tongue hard, the sharp pain pulling him back to reality. He forced himself to focus entirely on her breasts, pushing the dark thoughts aside.

He stretched his hands out, grabbing both nipples, and began to squeeze them in a steady, back-and-forth rhythm. Thick white jets of milk streamed perfectly into the container beneath her.

"Look at him, Amber," Lyla said, her voice filled with surprise. "This boy is a natural. He is really talented."

Lyla had been ready to correct Kael if he made a mistake, but he handled the job with ease. He worked with such precision that not a single drop of milk spilled onto the floor.

I need to tell Granny about him, Lyla thought. If he is trained properly, he could be a huge asset to the farm.

Most of the milkers in her group were nowhere near as skilled as Kael. Usually, they had to go through long, difficult training to learn how to milk creatures and human women efficiently without causing them any pain or trouble.

Watching him work, she realized he had a rare talent for it that seemed almost instinctual.

Kael’s technique was so rhythmic and effortless that Lyla felt no need to coach him.

She simply let her body follow his lead, turning her attention back to her conversation with Amber as if nothing unusual were happening.

Kael noticed her relaxed demeanor and decided to experiment.

Between each squeeze, he began to knead and massage the soft flesh of her breasts, testing the texture and warmth of her skin.

He continued this steady cycle of squeezing and firm massage until the pot was half full.

He looked down, shocked by the sheer volume.

In the time they had been working, Lyla had produced nearly a liter of thick, creamy milk. He couldn’t help but marvel at the internal workings of the process.

The magic that "Granny" cast on these women was clearly potent; despite the massive amount of fluid he had drawn from her, her breasts had only shrunk slightly, still appearing heavy and full.

It was as if her body was constantly refining her intake, keeping her constantly engorged and ready. He felt a surge of possessive power, knowing he was the one controlling the flow of this endless, magical supply.

Even when Kael applied more force, the flow of milk began to taper off, leaving the ducts feeling drained.

"Kael, I think that’s all for now," Lyla said, her voice soft. "That’s the standard amount I produce for my morning sessions."

"Wait, Aunt Lyla! I believe I can get more from them," Kael insisted, his voice filled with a stubborn, childlike conviction.

He refused to let go, his hands still firmly planted on the soft, heavy flesh.

Both women giggled at his persistence, finding his intensity amusing. Lyla, feeling indulgent, decided to let him try.

With no protest from her, Kael dug his fingers in, grabbing both of her breasts and sliding his hands downward in a firm, constant motion.

He repeated the deep massage over and over, working the tissue to encourage any remaining fluid.

When he finished the strokes, he shifted his focus. He took hold of her nipples and began to rub and stimulate the large, sensitive areolas surrounding them, watching intently to see if his persistence would trigger another release.

"Ahhh... hmmm... mhhh!" Lyla let out a loud, shuddering moan. Her hands went limp against the floor, and her head began to swim with a sudden, intense dizziness.

A wave of pleasure, sharp and overwhelming—far more potent than anything she had ever felt during her routine milking—washed over her.

Amber looked on, her initial concern quickly turning into a complicated mix of shock and hesitation.

She heard Lyla’s loud moans and knew immediately that Kael was doing something to provoke this reaction. She wanted to step in and stop her son, but the sight of Lyla stopped her cold.

Lyla wasn’t in pain; she had a dazed, stupid grin spread across her face, her chest heaving as she let out heavy, ragged breaths.

She bit her lip, watching Kael’s focused, methodical movements, and found herself unable to say a word.

Kael, completely absorbed in the sensation of Lyla’s reactions, didn’t seem to notice his mother’s internal struggle at all, his hands continuing their expert, rhythmic stimulation.

When Kael finally pulled his hands away, he felt a surge of triumph. He had successfully coaxed another half-liter of thick, rich milk from Lyla—a feat that seemed impossible just moments before. He was beyond delighted, his own body still buzzing from the exertion.

As the stimulation stopped, Lyla felt a sudden, hollow ache of disappointment. She desperately wanted him to continue, but the shame of losing control like that—moaning and panting in front of a boy she had treated as a child only moments ago—kept her paralyzed.

Mortified, she didn’t say a word, instead pushing herself up from the floor and quickly trying to compose herself.

However, her composure shattered the moment she looked at the earthen bowl. It was brimming with an additional half-liter of fresh, creamy milk.

Lyla stared at the container in complete bewilderment. No one knew her body better than she did; she had been absolutely certain her ducts were empty when she asked him to stop.

She had felt the distinct lack of pressure in her own chest, yet the evidence before her was undeniable. The extra yield was entirely due to his relentless, expert efforts.

She looked at Kael with a mix of shock and a new, unspoken kind of respect, realizing that the "little" boy she had been mentoring possessed a talent that defied everything she knew about her own profession.

"Little Kael, you need to tell me: who taught you to milk like that?" Lyla ignored her own lingering embarrassment, her professional curiosity completely overriding her sense of decorum.

She leaned in, her eyes searching his, needing an answer to the question burning in her mind.

Kael offered her a slow, devilish grin—a look far too knowing for someone his age. "No one, Aunt Lyla. I just had a feeling that if I tried that, I might be able to get a bit more out of you."

Lyla felt the sting of his tease, recognizing clearly that he was teasing her for her earlier attempt to act like the all-knowing expert. But her mind was spinning.

Who would believe that a boy still "wet behind the ears" could pull off a technique so sophisticated it defied the physical limits she had known her entire career? If he had learned this from someone, that person was a goldmine.

If she could discover the source of this method, it would bring unimaginable profits to the farm and skyrocket her status among the other milkers.

She couldn’t let it go. She reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, her voice dropping to a serious, pleading tone.

"Little Kael, don’t lie to me. You really need to tell your aunt the truth. It is very, very important to me—okay?"

Amber watched the exchange from the side, a flicker of unease crossing her face. She realized this was no longer about a simple, curious child; Lyla was looking at her son with a new, hungry intensity that went far beyond mere interest.

Kael simply shrugged, offering her an expression of practiced innocence that only deepened the mystery surrounding him.

Amber decided it was time to step in, her maternal instincts kicking in to protect him from Lyla’s intense scrutiny.

"He is not lying, Lyla. How could someone possibly train my own son in something so specialized without me being aware of it?"

Lyla paused, the logic of Amber’s statement hitting home. If someone had been teaching Kael, she would have definitely noticed.

Still, the alternative—that he had simply acted on a hunch and accidentally developed a masterful, high-yield technique—felt almost too far-fetched to accept.

Yet, looking at the brimming pot, she had no other explanation. Regardless of the how, his value in her eyes had just skyrocketed.

She shifted her focus away from his origins and moved toward him, her movements fluid and deliberate.

She leaned down and planted two warm, lingering kisses on his cheeks, her scent still clinging to the air around them.

"You worked very spectacularly, little Kael," she murmured, her voice thick with a mixture of professional awe and newfound desire.

She stood up, smoothing her clothes with a shaky hand. "Now, I’m afraid I have work to do, so I must be going."

*****

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