Butter Churning Bitch

Tyrese Rutherford was bored out of his mind as he, his mother, and a small tourist group of pear-shaped corny yokels were lead through an Amish community in upstate New York. Tyrese was a city-boy, through-and-through, born and raised in the concrete jungle of Queens. He was not accustomed to being around trees, open spaces, farmland, and mud, which he carefully avoided as to not fuck up his sneakers. He was not a nature-boy. Even Central Park was an exotic local in Tyrese's mind, since he only went to Manhattan maybe once or twice a year. Coming out to the middle of nowhere wasn't his idea, of course, it had been his mother's. Latisha Rutherford had always held some weird romantic fascination with rural life. Farms, horses, jugs of milk, all that shit. To her the Amish were like fairies or some shit, since they got to live in magical perfect fantasy land where nothing ever changed and nothing bad ever happened. You never had to worry about an Amish crackhead coming at you with an AIDS infected needle. You never heard about some Amish buggy doing a drive-by. To Tyrese though, the Amish were just especially boring White people.

"And here we have our dairy barn, where we bring in the young dairy cows for milking. We only use a little of the raw milk for drinking, the rest gets churned into butter or made into cheese since those things last longer."

The tour guide wasn't the sort you'd normally expect. You know, and old nerdy White lady with nothing better to do since it was her husband cutting the checks. This tour guide was one of the Amish, and a girl no less. She was cute, if strangely petite. Tyrese figured she was eighteen, since she was working, but she was a foot shorter than he was, and Tyrese wasn't even the tallest brotha around. She had big blue eyes, freckles, a button-nose, two braided pigtails of long blond hair peeking out from her bonnet, and she was missing one of her front teeth, which caused her voice to unintentionally whistle from time to time. Cute, but not really fuckable. She was flat-chested and had no ass. Tyrese liked curves.

The cute little tour guide had mentioned that her name was Maybelle or something.

"Oh, ain't that the cutest thing," Latisha whispered to his son. "They even make their own butter. They don't have to go to the store for nothing."

Tyrese nearly burst a blood-vessel trying not to roll his eyes. These people had no internet, no basketball court, no shoe stores, no video games, and they probably weren't having any sex, so what was so dope about some homemade butter?

"Oh goodie!" Maybelle giggled. "We get to see some butter being made. This is my older sister Fannie working the butter churner. Looks like she's churning up a big load today, and it must be especially thick, judging by the way her she's pumping it with both hands. Care to tell today's tour group about churning butter, Fannie?"

"Sure. I love talking about working the pole," Fannie responded with a slight chuckle, perhaps indicating that she was aware of her double-entendre.

Tyrese heard Fannie's voice before he saw her face. He wasn't really paying attention to the tour. He was busy skimming through an article on his smartphone about his favorite rapper, Lil Nigga, and his latest single, "Killin' Cops and Slappin' Bitches," but Fannie's voice shook him so hard that he nearly dropped his phone. The bitch had a voice that was deep, raspy, and had a haughty little chuckle in. It was not the sweet, innocent, awkward voice one would expect of a rural Amish girl, but was more like the voice of an experienced jazz singer who spent all day smoking weed, drinking whiskey, and sucking huge cocks.

Tyrese looked up and saw what had to be the finest White bitch he had ever laid eyes on (and he had laid his eyes on quite a few fine White bitches). Fannie was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and built like Supergirl if Supergirl had huge tits. The puffy black dress and bonnet which Fannie were wearing was intended to preserve her modesty, but no amount of clothing could hide that body. Fannie had broud shoulders, perfect posture, and her tits jutted outward like two perfectly shaped 'oblate spheroids' (to use a term he remembered from astronomy). Tyrese was certain he could see her nipples poking through the thick material of the dress. They must have been as hard as iron spikes to be visible through such a thick garment.

Fannie's face was perfect, like a supermodel, and although she had a few cute freckles she didn't have a single visible pores, even though she was glistening with sweat. Her lips were naturally pink, puffy, and twisted upwards with a cocky smile, the kind of smile that only an utterly confident bad bitch would have. Tyrese was sure he wasn't just letting his horny eighteen year old mind read too far into it. He was sure that this lily-white blond-ass Amish girl was a bad bitch.

The sight of her churning butter was unmistakably erotic. She was sitting low on a stool with her legs spread open, and even though she was covered by a bunch of long black skirts, the bulging muscles of her thick thighs showed through. She had both hands on a tall wooden stick which Tyrese immediately imagined was his penis, and she was pumping that big stick up and down with slow, powerful, dominating strokes. Tyrese had never seen butter-churning before, but he was certain that Fannie was the best in the world at it. She was putting her whole body into it, thrusting her tits out with each stroke, and rocking her ass back and forth on the stool.

When Fannie spoke, Tyrese nearly popped a nut.

"I just love churning butter," Fannie rasped with a knowing smile. "I love getting my hands on a hard pole and pumping it until the cream inside the barrel starts to thicken. I love how easy it is at first, but as the cream gets harder so does the work, and you start to realize what you're worth as a woman. Most girls can't churn a barrel in a single sitting, but I can. That's what separates a girl from a woman, I think. Whether or not they can get the job done."

Fannie pumped the stick back into the barrel, and a small glob of buttery cream popped out and onto her hand. Fannie chuckled haughtily and licked it off her fingers with a twirling pink tongue, and she she sucked up the residue.

"Mmmm . . . I just hate it when the cream comes up prematurely," Fannie chuckled.

Tyrese felt like he was about to cry. He was terrified that his erection was going to show through his baggy jeans. An erection as big as his was hide to hide. His dick hung a soft six inches from his toned body, and it maxed out at nearly ten when properly aroused. Tyrese's cock was so hard at the moment that it felt like a solid twelve.

The only two people who seemed oblivious to Fannie's erotic overtones were her little sister Maybelle (who was grinning like a happy idiot) and Tyrese's mother, Latisha.

"So you enjoy churning butter, Fannie? It ain't a chore for you?" Latisha asked, genuinely curious about the life of an Amish farm girl.

"Of course not," Fannie said, her hot blue eyes falling upon Tyrese for a moment, or so he hoped. "Some girls treat it like it's a chore, but not me. I love everything about churning up a big load of butter. I love the feel of the stick in my hands. I love the exercise of putting my whole body into it. I love the result most of all, getting a big warm load of butter to enjoy as a reward for my work. Nothing more satisfying than seeing that thick butter come up on the table. I'd put it on everything if I could. My vegetables. My bread. My breasts."

"Your breasts?" Latisha asked.

"My chicken breasts," Fannie clarified

"Oh."

"Thanks Fannie," Maybelle said with an innocent little giggle. "Alright, everyone. Let's go to the forge and I'll show you all how our blacksmith makes our nails and horseshoes."

The tour group of pear-shaped yokels trotted along after Maybelle like a herd of bipedal cows, but Tyrese hung back.

"You alright, boo?" Latisha asked her son.

"Uh . . . Yeah, yeah. I'm just . . . Uh . . . I need to use the bathroom . . . And call a friend back. I'll catch up."

"Oh, okay. But hurry. I've got a feeling that this blacksmithing forge is going to be really exciting!"

Latisha ran after the group and disappeared, leaving Tyrese at the dairy station, alone but for the cows and Fannie. She had gotten back into her favorite chore, churning that butter with her whole body like she was getting off on it, but when she noticed Tyrese staring at her she stopped. She leaned back, took off her bonnet, and wiped the sweat from her forehead with it. Her long blond hair fell around her shoulders like spun gold. As she leaned back, her breasts strained against the constraints of her dress, causing her stiff nipples to become more visible, and for a moment Tyrese expected the dress to just burst open. Tits as big as Fannie's weren't meant for a dress like that.

Tyrese just stood there and gaped until Fannie chuckled and tilted her head, indicating that he should come over. He did.

"S'up nigger," Fannie greeted with an evil smile.

"Um . . . Hey . . . Uh . . . Whoa! The n-word isn't . . . um,"

"What? Did I hurt your feelings, nigger?" Fannie chuckled.

Tyrese was pretty shook, but he tried not to show it. Only three white girls had ever called him a nigger before. One of them he slapped so hard that she had to go to the dentist to get her braces fixed. One of them he took into an alley and threatened to beat her up if she didn't suck his dick to apologize, and she did, but he still smacked her up a little. The third was a cheerleader from school who he fucked semi-regularly, and she only called him a nigger when she was cumming. He was alright with her saying it.

Fannie was different though. There was no hatred or contempt or jealousy in her voice when she said 'nigger.' There was a humor to it. She was poking him. Mocking him. She wanted to see how he'd react.

"Shit . . . I can't be offended by some inbred redneck white-ass cult bitch," Tyrese retorted, trying to keep his cool.

Fannie smiled and laughed. Not a chuckle, but a real laugh.

"Take a seat, nigger. I could use the company. I'm Fannie, by the way."

"Tyrese."

"Nice to meet you, Tyrese," Fannie said with a slow sexual tone, as if she were tasting his name, rolling it around on her tongue like a piece of hard candy. "So, do you have any weed on you?"

"Not right now," Tyrese said, wishing he had.

"That's cool. I do," Fannie said, pulling down the neck of her dress and producing a fat blunt from between her expansive cleavage. The blunt smelled like her sweat, and it smelled good. "You got a light on you though, right, nigger?"

"Yeah," Tyrese said, producing a zippo.

"Shit. Looks like niggers are good for something."

Tyrese held the zippo low to his crotch and flicked it on. Fannie wasn't shy about leaning down with the blunt in her mouth to light up, even though her face came inches away from his crotch. From a distance it would not look like she was lighting up a blunt, but it would look like she was sucking his dick.

"You can relax," Fannie said as she took a long drag of her blunt. "Ain't nobody around. My little sister has got the tourists on the other side of the farm by now, my Daddy is working two towns over, and my Momma is probably flat on her back getting her pussy eaten out by Mrs. Christiansen from next door."

Tyrese gaped. Fannie chuckled.

"What? You think Amish women don't get fucked? We do, although sometimes we have to go an extra mile to get it. My Momma's been a closeted lesbian since she was my age. She's managed to keep it from Daddy all these years, but she couldn't have kept it from Maybelle and me. We have to run interference for her sometimes, you know. Here, take a drag of this fat-ass blunt, nigger."

"Um . . Thanks," Tyrese said, tagging the blunt and inhaling a drag that was only a tenth the size of what Fannie took, but it still left him wheezing. "Holy shit! This weed is dope! Fuck! This is some strong shit!"

"Thanks. I grow it myself," Fannie said proudly. "Totally organic, hand raised, grown in the sun. It ain't like that weak closet-grown shit you niggers get. This is the real Burning Bush."

"I can't believe that you're for real," Tyrese coughed. "I thought you Amish were . . . I don't know . . . Lame."

"Most of us are," Fannie shrugged. "The boys are. All of them. I can't find a single one who can fuck me good. All the cute ones are boring as hell, and super conservative. That, or they got a dick the size of my pinkie-finger."

Fannie held up her pinkie-finger and laughed. Tyrese laughed along with her.

"Too bad you ain't got any brothas around here," Tyrese said, slyly gauging her feelings about interracial unions. "Brothas always be packing."

Fannie chuckled. "Yeah, I wish. You ain't the first nigger who's taken the tour, Tyrese. I was an innocent little girl once, with an aching wet pussy that was dying to get fucked by a big black cock. I threw myself at the first nigger I saw, hoping he'd have a big African club that he could beat my pussy to death with, but what he pulled out was the most average six inch penis I have ever seen. I fucked him anyway, but he had to eat me out to make me cum. It was fucking disappointing."

Tyrese smiled. "Ten."

Fannie arched an eyebrow. "Ten? Ten what?"

"Ten inches," Tyrese said, as confident as a cow in a Hindu temple.

Fannie's face was expressionless. "Can I see it?"

Tyrese smirked. "Get it out yourself, bitch."

Fannie's expressionless face never changed. She looked around to make sure they were alone, and then she put both her hands on his crotch and felt around. She got a hold of the bulging length of his shaft and her jaw dropped. She hurried up and reached for his belt, unbuckling it before nearly tearing the zipper off. Tyrese's cock sprang up like a big black nuclear missile rising from a silo. It was as big as it had ever been, possibly even more than ten inches. It was thick as well, as thick as a girl's wrist. The full length of the shaft was covered in pulsating veins. The skin was stretched so tight that it looked ready to burst. Tyrese was uncircumcised, but the helmet of his cock was so bulbous and big that the foreskin couldn't cover it all, leaving a walnut-sized portion of his purple-black helmet exposed.

"Holy fuck," Fannie gasped, losing her cool for the first time. Her blue eyes were wide open. She looked afraid, but curious. "Oh my God. Holy . . . Fucking . . . SHIT!"

"Like what you see, bitch?" Tyrese asked, feeling that the tables had reversed, and that he was now the one playing with her.

Fannie looked up at Tyrese with a thirsty, desperate, almost panicked expression. "Fuck me! Come with me into the barn and fuck me!"

"Okay," Tyrese said, feeling dominated again.

Fannie got angry. "I wasn't asking, nigger! FUCK ME!"

#

Fannie nearly tore Tyrese's hoodie and shirt off as she slammed her tits into his bare chest, thrusting him into a pile of hay. They were kissing sloppily, their tongues doing spirals over one another. They both loved how the other tasted. Fannie gasped when she saw Tyrese without his shirt. He wasn't bulky, but he was cut, and his smooth ebony skin glistened like a wet stone. Fannie dove in and kissed his chest, sucked his nipples, and licked at his hard abs. Tyrese had fucked a good number of girls, but none of them had even shown this much enthusiasm for it. Normally girls just kissed him, sucked his dick, and spread their legs. Fannie was literally slobbering over his abs and sucking it back up. She wanted to swallow him.

Tyrese pulled at Fannie's dress but he had no fucking idea how it was constructed. It felt like she was sewn into it. Fannie eventually backed off his chest and took care of it herself. Her arms disappeared into her tight sleeves and a few seconds later her dress just magically fell apart. Her naked breasts rose up like two white moons, each capped by the most perfect pink nipple that Tyrese had ever seen. Her breasts were big, full, and although they looked heavy they stayed aloft. Her pink nipples were bumpy and stiff. He grabbed at her breasts, causing her to sigh loudly, and he ran his thumbs over her stiff nipples. They were hard enough to hang a towel from. He grabbed them and twisted. Most girls hated that, but Fannie loved it. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming, and she began grinding her hips down on Tyrese.

Tyreses pulled her down by her tits and began sucking on them. Fannie moaned loudly as her nipples grazed over his teeth, and when he bit down a little she spasmed. She liked it rough.

"I want to suck your cock!" Fannie cried. "I NEED to suck your cock!"

Tyrese threw Fannie to the ground as he stood up. His cock slid up her stomach and got caught underneath her large breasts, causing it to bend. When he leaned up further, his cock snapped up, and smacked Fannie in the face hard enough to bust a lip against her teeth, drawing a bit of blood.

"Sorry," Tyrese said.

"Don't be," Fannie gasped, wiping away the small drop of blood. "Trust me. I deserve it. Now shove your cock down my throat and skull-fuck me like you want to choke me to death."

Tyrese grabbed his cock at the base and pushed it into Fannie's face, missing her mouth and nearly knocking her eye out. He rubbed his bulbous head against her cheek, and slid it into place over her lips. She grabbed onto it with both hand and fed it to herself, sliding as much as she could into her mouth before she gagged. She didn't get very far. Just four inches were in before she gagged, so she stopped there and began bobbing her head. Her tongue twirled spirals over his tip while she slobbered as much spit as she could over his cock. Her cheeks bulged and her face turned red. As drool oozed down her chin and onto her breasts, she looked up with tear-filled blue eyes, and gave Tyrese a look that very clearly said "What are you waiting for, nigger? FUCK ME!"

Tyrese grabbed Fannie's head and began slamming his cock down her throat until his balls slapped against her neck. He went deep, too deep for her. She tried to fight him, but he didn't let up. He kept his hands on the back of head and held her tight, even when she began slapping his thighs and clawing at his legs. Her feet began to flail. She was definitely asphyxiating, but Tyrese didn't let her go. After all, she deserved it.

"Not such a bad bitch after all," Tyrese chuckled. "You can't even suck a nigger's dick without choking. Pathetic little Amish bitch."

Tyrese slapped the back of Fannie's head, and then finally let go. Her busted throat was slow to slide off of his shaft, but as her lips finally slid over the bulbous tip, the suction was broken and her head came flying off with a loud pop and explosion of spit that rained over her face and breasts. Fannie landed flat on her back, and she writhed on the dirty barn floor, gasping for air and vomiting up thick globs of spit that oozed all over face and even got into her eyes. If she had been wearing mascara, Tyrese would imagine that it would have run all over her cheeks by now, but Fannie didn't even need mascara. Her eyelashes were naturally thick and black.

Fannie leaned up and looked at herself. She was a hot mess. She was naked, covered in her own spit, and her legs were shaking. Her big plump pussy was visibly pulsing. She was so horny that it actually hurt, which was a sensation she hadn't felt since her body had skyrocketed into puberty. She reached between her legs and grabbed her angry snapping pussy. She realized that she had orgasmed while choking on Tyrese's stupidly large black cock.

"Holy shit," she gasped. "I . . . I came already."

Tyrese pushed his cock against her face and began rubbing it all around, smearing the spit over her eyes and lips. Fannie submitted to it and moaned deeply. She loved that Tyrese was taking control of her. She loved being a whore.