MILK UDDERS, part 25 (Patreon)

Still think you got more meat than me in there, white cow?” Bianka hissed as her big breasts took the upper position. Melania grunted at the substantial, dense weight she was bearing, but also at the continued dehumanization her rival was doing on her.

“What you are feeling is titflesh from a real woman, not just any meat from a cow like yours,” she replied, beginning to force her bosoms upward against breast resistance and gravity. Again, the girls’ thick nipples eluded each other, tracing parallel paths before Melania forced a long groan from Bianka as she reached the peak of her carnal climb and to put all the weight of her globes on the white-haired beauty’s pair. “And as you can feel, I got more than you’ll ever dream of getting.”

“You’ll never admit it, will you?” Bianka grunted as Melania felt the rude and heavy mass of the other milkmaid pressing upwards. “You arrogant stubborn bitch…”

“You nasty and haughty tramp…” the brunette groaned. “I have nothing to admit to you.”

Locking eyes with her busty foe, Melania gripped Bianka’s arms tighter as that time she put all her effort into preventing the other woman’s glands from passing beyond hers. The gazes of the 21-year-old contenders were filled with a fire fueled by mutual contempt and by the intensity of the evenly matched comparison of attributes, but Melania saw something else in the Austrian’s steel-blue eyes: offense.

“Fucking cheater,” Bianka said. “It’s the turn of my big trophies on top.”

“We have notagreed on anything,” Melania replied.

“Whore,” the Austrian milkmaid spat out. “You know that on equal terms you don’t stand a chance against mine.”

“Oh, please, you started this, now don’t cry,” the Italian milkmaid growled. “If you want yours on top of mine, they’ll have to push through mine…if they can.”

The atmosphere became much more intense and hotter under the sun, with Bianka thrusting upward with all her monumental chest while Melania used the full weight of her incredible bust to restrain her efforts. But, even with everything on her side, she noticed how little by little, centimeter by centimeter, Bianka’s boobs were pushing their way through hers, with the long nipples of her nemesis cruelly piercing her sensitive flesh over and over again. The two young women gasped and moaned face to face, their foreheads leaning against each other as they felt each other in the toxic and never-ending escalation of animosity.

For two, maybe three eternal minutes, Melania and Bianka gave it all they had, the Italian stopping and even forcing down the Austrian’s insistent pair in a few moments, but as soon as she felt the other nipples reach her areolas, she knew her advantage was lost. With a long moan and a tug of her hands, the white-haired girl managed to move her breasts over Melania’s, and the brunette could only let out a moan of frustration and anger.

“Now get yours to try to regain position…if they can,” Bianka immediately challenged as Melania felt the full weight against which she now had to battle. Her enemy’s voice sounded broken from overexertion, but Melania felt equally exhausted.

“Mine will need less time and effort than yours, I assure you,” Melania exhaled without thinking, since as soon as she began to push upwards, she felt a weight that seemed impossible to move, a firmness that seemed impossible to break—no matter how many times she put Bianka Lautermilch’s fat bosoms to the test, they somehow felt fuller and solider and weightier every time.

“Yours are going to stay under mine, you slut,” Bianka promised.

In a battle of will and carnal power, the rival milkmaids fought for breast position, gasping and groaning, sweating incessantly. For a few moments, Melania could do nothing but grit her teeth in frustration and hatred, feeling Bianka successfully hold her persistent set of fat boobs down but, as the intensity of the female struggle continued, Melania insisted with renewed vigor and determination, conquering more and more of Bianka’s extensive breast territory. Finally, with a guttural moan echoing through the air, the petite brunette summoned every ounce of strength within her, and skillfully and laboriously maneuvered her boobs over her antagonist’s, turning the tide of the confrontation in her favor. With a hiss full of exasperation and fury, Bianka let Melania know that she had lost her advantage.

“Ha!” the Italian woman scoffed. “What were you saying, black cow?”

“You took your time, huh?” the Austrian mocked back, even without any of them being able to measure the course of time to draw conclusions.

In the distance, the sounds of the Brennero livestock fair continued to reach her, but Melania didn’t have time to think about her business or her mother at that moment. With unwavering determination, she used all her strength to hold her breasts triumphantly above Bianka’s, but the other beauty soon regained her position. Long amounts of unmeasurable time passed, and both milkmaids fervently pushed and dragged their astonishing mammary glands together, taking and losing the best position, seeking a coveted advantage without any of them being able to take it definitively. The intensity of the duel was evident in the pretty faces that were contorted with exertion, in the streams of sweat that slid down foreheads and chests, in the gasps and groans that both were unable to control as they pushed and squeezed, their muscles straining against the weight they carried.

The titfight dragged on, victory after victory, defeat after defeat, until Melania felt that her toned body was on the verge of exhaustion, the strain of supporting both the weight of her own glands and Bianka’s quickly taking its toll. However, she was not going to give up, for in the pressure that Bianka exerted chest to chest against her, she could feel the same fatigue in her rival. As the DD-cup breasts strained against each other, locked in a personal brawl for supremacy, Melania felt that the competitive spirits that had been born in her just two days before were beginning to consume her, especially when she realized that constant battle of comparison was leading her nowhere but to bitterness and resentment…and to what she didn’t feel in any other way than as some kind of sick lust.

This shit again… she cursed in her head, feeling each rub of Bianka’s heavy boobs against her own sending long throbs in her crotch. It was not a novel sensation, for ever since her first nocturnal encounter with Bianka, something deep inside her sex seemed to have awakened—something she didn’t understand, nor did she want to understand.

Melania had no time to think any more about that dark alley she didn’t want to illuminate, for as she dragged her boobs up across Bianka’s pair, again the nipples of both petite beauties unintentionally touched through the sweat-soaked shirts. The electrifying contact created a jolt of unwelcome, annoying pleasure that surged through the dark-haired milkmaid’s body, the intimate connection between sensitive, erect rods increasing and intensifying everything that her young, curvaceous body was feeling at that moment. Melania’s crotch seemed to burn, but it was nothing compared to what erupted in her struggling breasts, where she could feel the milky liquid scorching inside her glands.

A second later, long streams of milk were squirted out of her nipples. With a scream, Melania felt her glands surrendering in a moment of vulnerability and humiliation, as the liquid essence of her femininity escaped without her consent—no matter how desperately she tried to control the milky deluge, her body no longer seemed to have any will of its own. The brunette’s beautiful face flushed with embarrassment as she felt the warmth of her milk staining her chest and black shirt, mixing with the sweat of the intense struggle.

Melania hated Bianka as never before, having the Austrian milkmaid exposed her in the most mortifying way possible, so despite her moment of weakness, she didn’t let go of her rival, nor did she pull her defeated breasts away from hers. It was at that moment that Melania realized she wasn’t the only one crying out and trembling in that deserted train station: Bianka was holding onto her arms tightly, her nails digging in, as her entire big bust convulsed and pressed against Melania’s bosoms.

“I’ve milked you too, yes, fuck yeah!” she howled with joy, even as her breasts kept throbbing and spurting milk. “Yes, you cunt!”

“Look who’s talking!” Bianka shouted back. “Milked like the cow you are! Yes, yes!”

The friction between swollen boobs that spurted milk was too much for Melania to say any more, so that for half a minute, or more, she and her nemesis could only grunt unconnected words. The brunette felt that she needed to close her eyes, and she did it: her senses sharpened as she went dark, and she could feel her large breasts slowly diminishing their shameful milk production. Immediately, a bittersweet mix of emotions washed over her, intertwining humiliation and relief in an intricate dance. The realization that Bianka had—again—successfully drawn milk from her engorged nipples sent a wave of embarrassment through her body, a painful reminder of a vulnerability she hadn’t known she had until two days ago. Yet, there was a peculiar solace in knowing that she had reciprocated the act, asserting her own ability to influence on Bianka’s milky reserves. In the midst of it all, there floated the frustration of always getting what she wanted from her white-haired, blue-eyed nemesis at the same time the other woman got what she wanted from her too.

As their big bosoms remained together, the weight of their swollen globes pushing against one another and moving up and down in unison with the heavy breaths of each beauty, Melania thought she felt that her rival’s breasts were also calming down in their milk ejection. She found herself wondering how much liquid each had expelled, but knew that answering such a question was impossible—at least without having a bucket at hand. The Italian knew that she also could not claim any kind of victory for having managed to humiliate before being humiliated, since both buxom and petite women seemed to have yielded in unison, or at least so closely that there was no difference. Still, she wasn’t sacrificing her bragging rights.

“I said I’d milk you, and there it is,” Melania whispered, her voice exhausted.

“And I said I’d milk you, and I’ve done it too,” Bianka replied tiredly. “I’ve squeezed a lot out of you, haven’t I?”

“Maybe, but not as much as I’ve squeezed from you, white cow,” the brunette gasped.

“Don’t make me laugh, black cow,” the Austrian beauty said. “I’ve taken so much out of you that I’m sure I’ve drained you dry by now.”

***

Words:1807.