A Hecking Milking Sesh

Sable let out a sharp hiss as he held his swollen, angry pecs in his calloused hands. 

“Ah, shit…” he murmurs to no one in particular, his shop was empty— but with the many projects he had lined up, he'd forgotten to relieve the building pressure of his milk. 

Stepping back from his workbench, he looks down at his swollen chest and grimaces. 

“Fuck, gotta close up…” he grumbled out, his hooves now clacking against the concrete floor as he walks towards the large garage door that separated him from the rest of the world. With a grunt, Sable pulled the handle of the garage door halfway down, letting gravity do the rest. He could feel the pain in his chest stronger, growing angrier as he moved the muscles of his upper body. 

It's funny how someone could be so focused on something, that their minds completely ignore a growing discomfort or pain— this is exactly how Sable feels in this moment. 

Sable quickly clears the distance between him and the Garage's mop sink. The sink is only about a foot deep and square in shape. Sable has to get onto his knees if he doesn't want to make a mess, so that's what he does. 

Sable swiftly strips himself of his shirt, letting out a pathetic whimper as he drops it at his side. With a deep breath, he leans forward, putting one hand on the cold brick wall, the other gingerly cups his left tit. The skin is so tight and tender that he can't help the little whine that leaves his throat. 

With a shuddery inhale, he takes his nipple and gently tugs and rolls the nub between his fingers. It's not long before a stream of his milk spills out, the bitter citrus scent mixing with the earthy and sharp, metallic smells of the garage. Sable is not proud of the moan that leaves his lips, but the feeling of his milk escaping just one of his pecs is enough to make him see stars. 

He balances himself back on his knees and pulls his hand back from the wall to relieve the pressure in his right one too, which earns him a long and low groan as both of his milk ducts release into the sink below. 

Sable pants softly, the pain wasn't worth the feeling he was getting now, but damn does it feel fucking fantastic in the moment. When the flow of his milk starts to become lazy and slow, he uses his hands to grope and squeeze at his pecs, his motions urging out every last droplet he can manage. 

His face is flushed, the relief and dull ache mixed with the pleasure of working his sore nipples between his fingers was enough to cause his cock to stiffen in his ripped jeans. Another problem to take care of— but at least this one's easier. 

Sable hesitantly takes his hands away from his sore chest to unbutton and unzip his fly, letting his commando cock spring free. One hand returns to his swollen nipple, the other to his erection. He closes his eyes as he squeezes and tortures his sore tit, simultaneously stroking his length.

With all the intense stimulation, it's not long before he spills. With a grunt, his hips jerk forward, his seed falling unceremoniously into the basin along with the milk that still clings to the edges of the battered plastic.

Sable takes a moment to catch his breath before he scrunches up his nose. It smells sour and bitter throughout the shop, all thanks to his milk. But, at the very least, he did get to take a well-needed break…

Tucking away his now-limp cock, he closes up his pants and grabs his shirt at his side. As he rises to his hooves, he uses his shirt to wipe up the little splatters of milk on his fur. 

Sable, feeling drowsy after his milking, makes his way over to the ladder that connects the ground floor to the upper level of the garage. He hoists himself up and climbs the ladder, silently cursing himself for picking the second story to sleep— but that's where he put his hammock. 

Carefully, he holds onto the metal railing and plops down into the embrace of the bright orange hammock hanging above his workshop. It doesn't take him long to grow drowsy, but he knows that tomorrow he'll have to work even harder to make up for the work he didn't get done today. Oh well, this is the life Sable chose, and he does what he does very well. He might as well make the best of it!