Fields of Daisies and Clover – A Hucow Story, Parts I - VI - Sex Stories

Fields of Daisies and Clover – A Hucow Story, Parts I - VI

... but the side.”

“A nostril ring,” Angela replied. “What a great idea, we each get the same tattoos and the same nostril rings. That way we know we’re part of the herd.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said. “But coming back to the branding thing, if Daisies and Clover Cow Farm is our thing, we need branding, we need a website, we need marketing, and we need to get our milk out there.”

“I used to do web design and e-commerce in a prior job,” Angela said. “I can get something set up in a couple of days. I will come up with a couple of possible logos.”

“Great,” I said. “Finally, we need some publicity and possibly some cow recruitment.”

“There’s a farmer’s market in two weeks down at the fairgrounds,” Helga interjected. “I’ll see if we can get a slot. Once we get that logo worked up, we can get some shirts printed out we can all wear. We can both market our milk and maybe even recruit a cow or two.”

“Perfect. I think those are the major business points – except for one.”

I scanned the cows. They all were chewing placidly on their salads.

I sighed. “Who is your other partner?”

There was a long silence. Lucy looked at Angela then they both looked at my wife. My wife looked nervously down and diddled with her phone, seemingly texting someone. It irked me that she would text at a moment like this, but I tried to ignore it.

“Well…?” I prompted. “Follow orders, cows. Who is the other partner?”

Lucy sighed. “The other partner was more of a business partner, not a ...

... cow partner. They were pretty ambivalent about becoming a cow or joining your herd.”

“Great, fine, no problem. Who is it?” I prompted.

Silence continued to rule the room. I pushed my chair back and stood up, pounding a fist on the table.

“Cows! I need an answer. Now!”

As I said that my phone rang. It was my mom. I was going to let it go to voicemail but decided I needed a second to chill before I said or did anything rash with the cows.

“Hi Mom,” I answered.

“Hi Brendan. It’s me,” my mom said.

“Obviously it’s you, I recognize your voice,” I replied, flipping the phone to speaker and glaring around the room. “Look, this is kind of a bad time. You were right about taking charge. But the cows are getting out of line and I need to handle this. Can I call you back?”

“I know. That’s what I’m telling you. It’s me.”

“What’s you? What are you talking about?” I think I might have lost a couple brain cells in the transition to a bull, because I just wasn’t getting it.

“Brendan! It’s me. I’m the other partner.”

“You’re…you’re...holy shit. Mom, why?”

“You were always such a milquetoast. I’ve tried to get you to toughen up throughout your life. Remember when I made you try out for soccer and the coach said you were the first player he had ever seen who was suspended for an accumulation of diving yellow cards? And then there was that wilderness school I sent you to where you got lost and they had to send in the search and rescue. Then I signed you up for ...