MILK UDDERS, part 19 (Patreon)

Bianka felt like her heart was going to burst in shock, like her mind was going to melt in commotion. She couldn’t believe it, even after the unconceivable events of the last days but, for the first time in her life, her hands were grabbing another woman’s breasts, and not precisely in a loving way—it wasn’t the lust curiosity of a straight girl who wanted to explore her limits but raw aversion and jealousy that drove the Austrian milkmaid to grab the most generous virtues of her Italian nemesis. The intensified sensation of unreality was multiplied a thousandfold as she felt the bare hands of Melania Tantilatte, the woman she had met just two days before, groping her own plump boobs through her T-shirt. Her peaceful way of life and her own kindness was still bursting around her, but the white-haired beauty felt she didn’t mind continuing to fall into the pit of self-destruction if she could beat the arrogant girl who had abruptly come into her life in the end.

With the same effusiveness and aggressiveness with which the enemies had thrown themselves at each other, the fingers began to squeeze firm flesh, the accumulated frustration and resentment strengthening claws that were eager to annihilate. Bianka had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming as Melania uninhibitedly and cruelly grabbed her bosoms, and she herself responded by viciously grabbing her rival’s fat glands to force her to exhale hisses of pain through her clenched teeth. Never in 21 years of existence had Bianka felt agony like that, her beautiful, proud breasts cruelly lacerated at their most vulnerable moment, but the consolation of returning every grain of torment to Melania served to balance the scales.

“Bitch, bitch!” Bianka said and heard, the hisses hardly controlled. “Bitch, bitch, bitch!”

The busty beauties began to stagger around the back of the tent, their feet unsteady, giving and taking hard tugs, crushing and compressing to each other’s big breasts, hissing and groaning under an agonizing aggression. Bianka was quickly aware of the brunette’s hard, stiff nipples pushing against her palms, and her own sexual spears toughened on her hot bosoms in response, but in some strange way neither attacked such obvious sensitive targets—perhaps because they both knew of the danger of spurting milk almost immediately if it came to that. The whole thing felt nasty, perverse, absurd and wild, as inappropriate as it was embarrassing, a path of pain without inhibitions or moral reservations, and yet Bianka felt that both young petite women had unconsciously taken the less dangerous trail, as she was unsure about how her oversensitized big boobs would handle another breast pressing like the one she experienced two nights ago against the pair of her dark-haired antagonist. Melania’s own hesitation to engage herself in a fat glands to fat glands confrontation with her, however, let the Austrian milkmaid know that there was also a weakness in the Italian’s glands that could be exploited, something she realized from the very first squeeze she gave. Melania didn’t stop shaking under her assault, moaning and gasping more and more raggedly, her breasts clearly as delicate as her own after the latest events.

“What’s wrong, you whore?” Bianka managed to shape the words in spite of pain. “Too sensitive?”

“Speak for yourself, little tramp,” Melania growled between groans. “Have you always had them this weak or is it because I milked you the other night?”

“It’s obvious you’ve always had fragile titties,” the blonde spat out. “Although after I milked them, I have left them even weaker. Sorry for that.”

“Well, I’m not sorry for humiliating your soft boobs at the border,” the Italian woman snarled. “And I’m not going to be sorry for doing it now again.”

The cruel squeezing of Bianka’s large breasts immediately intensified. Several tears blurred her vision in the shadows, but she still managed to see a few tears on Melania’s beautiful tanned-skinned face while she herself clenched the opposite boobs tighter with her milk-filler fingers. Hating herself for crying in front of her greatest nemesis, the blue-eyed woman leaned forward.

“What you will be sorry about is that you moved here,” she spat out, almost nose to nose with Melania. “You should have stayed in Formigine to avoid crossing the path of a woman better endowed than you.”

“Keep believing that if it helps you sleep,” Melania hit back. “But the one who has had the bad luck to have a bustier woman move in nearby is you.”

“We’ve already discussed this before, slut,” Bianka replied. “I said it and I keep it: I’m bigger than you.”

“I’m waybigger, you bitch,” the brunette hissed.

Perhaps it was the excessive pain given to hypersensitized and tender boobs, or maybe the mutual bragging about who was bigger-breasted, but the direction of the fiery catfight immediately changed. Bianka suddenly found herself squeezing less violently and massaging more, her fingers opening and closing on Melania’s hard-nippled bosoms to feel how large they really were, and the brunette’s hands entered into the same game with a long and intensive flesh exploration. Discarded the wildest violence, and without the sheer desperation to damage more and first, the white-haired girl began to feel the other young woman’s chest for real, and what she noticed between her fingers was two voluminous masses that were impossible to contain. Bianka had tested firsthand against her own bust just how large Melania’s breasts were, but touching them with their own hands made them feel bigger, firmer and hotter. To her regret, and in a display of sincerity with herself, the Austrian girl felt unable to deny that her Italian foe possessed an incredible chest, so dense and massive that it was logical that she felt threatened by it, but her recently awakened jealousy and arrogance told her again and again that it was she and she alone who was in charge in the breast department.

Anxious to have the answers she wanted to the questions that mattered, Bianka resolutely decided not to let the opportunity slip away and, closing her watery blue eyes for a moment, she moved her hands through the brunette’s cotton-clad heavy bosoms to compare those conceited glands to what she had. Melania’s milk-smeared fingers ran across Bianka’s heavy breasts at the same time, squeezing up and down, feeling back and forth, the volume and density of both women put to the test by someone who knew exactly what it was to be busty. Melania moaned practically every two or three seconds, and Bianka wasn’t able to help but join her with her own heated gasps.

“I hope you like what you are feeling,” Melania finally said.

“You bitch.” Bianka opened her eyes again to look at her enemy in defiance. “Couldn’t wait to touch them, huh? I’m sure that you wanted to do this so badly…”

“You wanted this,” the brunette replied. “Well, you have it!”

“Yes, I have what I want,” the Austrian milkmaid grunted. “At last I can feel you well and know that you are not as big as you think you are.”

“Oh, please, you deluded whore,” the dark-haired beauty responded. “It’s time for you to accept the painful reality. The one where yours are no better than mine in any way.”

“Look who’s in denial,” Bianka hissed as she grabbed Melania’s fat breasts by the sides to try to measure their plumpness. “Your pair is no bigger or firmer or prettier than mine.”

“I’m getting sick and tired of you denying the obvious over and over again,” Melania groaned.

“Not as much as me, you stuck-up tramp,” the blue-eyed woman said. “My boobs are better, period!”

“Just shut up!” Melania demanded, her teary eyes narrowing in the shadows. Then Bianka felt forced to exhale a short moan as she felt her rival’s palms squashing the front of her groped breasts. The Austrian milkmaid felt her tight white T-shirt slightly untucked but, above all, her long nipples crushed against her boobs. The danger of being milked again hovered over her head, a treacherous wetness throbbing at the tip of her nipples.

“You little cunt!” she insulted. The dirty move opened one of the few remaining bans, and Bianka didn’t hesitate to use her own palms to flatten Melania’s nipples. The other woman moaned immediately, and Bianka enjoyed the immoral pleasure of feeling two such large nipples yielding to her.

“I’m going to rip your nipples off!” Melania threatened. “You pathetic horny bitch!”

“You are the horny bitch here!” Bianka panted. “You’re fucking hard!”

“You too!” Melania replied. “You more!”

“No, you more!” the Austrian spat out.

The four nipples were clamped at the same time through the cotton, and none of the young beauties could help but let out a long, desperate, tearful hiss. Bianka couldn’t believe how much Melania’s nipples began to engorge and tighten within seconds between her fingers, and she suddenly found herself wishing that the hardening of her own nipples under the brunette’s assault accelerated.

“I’m harder than you!” Melania contradicted her own words from seconds before, boasting as if she could read Bianka’s mind.

“You wish, but I’m the hardest here!” Bianka countered. “Yours can’t be compare to mine!”

“Yeah, right, and now you’ll say you have longer nipples too!” the brunette sneered. “You liar!”

“I have bigger and stronger nipples than you, just like my tits are bigger and stronger than yours.” Bianka pinched Melania’s nipples just before she opened her hands and went back to squeezing the other girl’s solid glands.

“Before the day is over, you and I are going to put our big tits back together and see once and for all how wrong you are,” Melania warned in a breathy voice while her fingers grabbed as much of Bianka’s breast flesh as they could. “But now, I have a threat to carry out. It’s milking time, you white cow!”

“That’s what we came here for, you cunt!” Bianka accepted the challenge. “Let’s milk, you black cow!”

Both milkmaids leaned over each other, resting their heads on the other left shoulder, and did what they knew best, what they had been doing since they were little girls. Bianka began milking Melania’s udders the same way she did with the cows on her farm, pulling and tugging with strength and skill. This time, however, the cow was fighting back, grabbing her fat and throbbing breasts in return and squeezing them for the precious white liquid, turning what was a one-sided affair into a nasty competition where one cow won and one cow lost. Although Melania’s udders were much firmer and larger than a cow’s, Bianka had already proven that they could give milk, so she knew she just needed persistence and endurance to reach the finish line first.

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Words: 1800