MILK UDDERS, part 18

Melania nearly tripped over herself as she stood up, the taste of fresh milk and raw humiliation in her mouth making her momentarily dizzy. Wiping her thick lips with the back of her hand, she blinked back the incipient tears as her mother approached her.

“Are you all right, tesoro?” The voice was full of concern. “Don’t worry about…”

“I’m going into the big tent,” the brunette  interrupted. She could hardly think of anything but the urge to make Bianka pay for everything she was going through. It was time for bold action. “I want to check on our cows. Give them water and all that.”

“There’s no need,” her mother said. “I’ve hired men just for that.”

“I want to take care of one particular cow, and I want to do it myself,” Melania replied inflexibly, finding it hard to keep her gaze fixed on her mother and not divert it to Bianka. “Leave the men out.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Emilia gave in.

Melania didn’t wait to see if her mother would say anything else, and headed straight for the mesh door of the big tent. The young and gorgeous milkmaid knew she would have time later to apologize to her if she had been too abrupt, so she remorselessly took a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Bianka was free of her own mother to follow her and left the noise and sunshine behind to step into the shelter of the dimness.

Under the tent, everything was cool, and Melania’s sweaty skin bristled softly at the contrast. The place was full of cows, but it was large enough so that they were not crowded together, so the brunette was able to walk among them without any problems. Melania’s dark eyes dilated as she looked around for a sufficiently private place in that improvised battle arena, but the round place offered only one real possibility: the back of the tent, where the real world was farther away and the shadows that dominated it were deeper. Her erect nipples became a little harder as she began to walk purposefully toward there, but burst into an almost painful stiffness when she heard someone entering the tent. Knowing it could be no one but Bianka, she turned around and, walking backwards, noticed the curvaceous silhouette of her bitter rival against the light, the well-rounded hips, supple waist and large breasts of the white-haired petite beauty standing out in the entrance as she held the mesh door with one hand. A second later, Bianka moved forward and the light receded, leaving the women who hated each other alone.

“You don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in,” Bianka growled. “No one humiliates me like that in public and gets away unscathed.”

“Do you think you’re not going to get everything you deserve and more for the humiliation you’ve put me through?” Melania replied, her mouth still tasting of cow’s milk, stepping back as she watched her enemy approach. “Messing with me like that has consequences, and you’re going to suffer them here and now.”

“What consequences?” the Austrian asked. “Didn’t you say something about milking me? That’s what you like to do, isn’t it?”

“You seem to like it a lot,” the Italian hissed, the memory of the drops of milk on her plump boobs overwhelming her thoughts. “You think you’re such a good milkmaid that you think there’s nothing you can’t milk, huh? Maybe it’s about time you get milked for a change.”

“You dirty bitch.” The rancor in both girls’ voices almost drowned their own words, but now Bianka’s tone seemed to break with desperation and longing. “What if you are the one being milked this time so I can shut your big mouth once and for all?”

Melania reached the back of the tent, and let the shadows surround her as Bianka moved inexorably toward her. Her milk-impregnated fingers twitched restlessly, so she had to put them on her hips to keep them under control. Her mouth, however, could not stop exhaling the hatred accumulated for two days.

“Not again, you nasty cunt, not this time.” Her voice was barely a gasp choked with the painful weight of revenge. “I won’t give you one single drop more of milk.”

“I’m the one who will not give you more, not even half a drop of milk,” Bianka groaned. “This time you will be the one to go home humiliated.”

“Never, not even in your wettest dreams,” the brunette counterattacked. “I’ll never again go through the humiliation of the other night.”

“Me neither,” the Austrian beauty said. “I’m not going to let you do it that to me again.”

“You…” Melania suddenly fell silent, and her eyes widened as a sudden, unanticipated revelation struck her hard.

Milking me? That’s what you like to do, isn’t it? Bianka’s words repeated in her head, more clearly now. What if you are the one being milked this time. All the dots began to join together. I’m the one who will not give you more. All of the pieces were fitting together. This time you will be the one to go home humiliated. Suddenly, she knew exactly what had happened. I’m not going to let you do it that to me again.

“This time,” Melania whispered to herself. “Not give you more.” There it was, the truth. “Again.”

I wasn’t the only one that night! she shouted in her mind.

“You black cow!” Bianka pulled Melania out of her enlightening thoughts with an overexcited voice. “I milked you the other night!”

Melania’s cheeks burst red at the accurate accusation, one that she herself was about to hurl against her busty nemesis. Puzzled, she didn’t understand how her secret had been discovered by her nemesis, but a moment later she realized that, just as the other milkmaid had spoken too much in their angry exchange of accusations, she herself had unconsciously been too talkative in front of Bianka.

“Oh, shut up, white cow!” the brunette immediately shot back, ready to fight painful truth with painful truth. “I also milked you then!”

With her dark eyes already adapted to the shadows, Melania saw Bianka’s white-skinned face immediately turning flushed red. For half a minute, there was nothing but soft cow mooing and a humiliation-laden silence around both petite beauties in the tent. Melania couldn’t believe she had made the mistake of acknowledging what her rival had done to her the night they met, but the raging sea of shame was somehow easier to navigate knowing that Bianka Lautermilch had gone through the same disgrace she had.

“So what?” Bianka spoke at last. “Somehow, you milked me for a few drops. Good for you, honey. But I’m sure you got home squirting milk.”

“You wish,” Melania replied. “A couple of drops, at most, is what you got after getting your tits flat against my big girls. You on the other hand sure left your bedroom floor full of milk.”

“You whore,” the Austrian beauty took a step forward, and the brunette couldn’t help but do the same to show that she wasn’t chickening out. “First of all, it was your weak tits that flattened against mine. And second, I milked you more than you milked me. Get that straight.”

“I’m sick of you, you cheap bitch.” Melania licked her lips, and the taste of milk somehow made her crotch throb slightly. “You and I can spend all day arguing about who milked who harder and better…or we can check it out right here and right now.”

“I thought you wouldn’t dare challenge me to that again now that we are alone,” the Austrian hissed softly. “How do you want me to milk your boobies dry, with my own hands?” Bianka raised both hands, cow’s milk still dripping from her fingers. “Or with…?”

Melania could almost taste the doubt in Bianka’s last words. The blue-eyed milkmaid didn’t need to finish the sentence for the brunette to understand what she meant: both women had before them the possibility of having a rematch of what had happened two nights before, which meant putting her DD-cup breasts back together again and see what happened. The very idea sounded deliciously tempting to Melania, but the hesitation she had noticed—and was still noticing—in her opponent infected her as well. Her plump bosoms felt too sensitive, too unstable for her to know how they would respond to contact with Bianka’s firm flesh, especially now that she was not having the protection of a bra. Now that she knew what had really happened after their first confrontation, Melania was aware that the other young woman had to be dealing with a breast problem similar to her own, as confirmed by her also coming bra-less to the cattle fair—like her, had not done so as an act of bragging, but out of necessity. Bianka’s hesitation to put the challenge into words had to come from there, but Melania wasn’t sure she was capable of being the one to step up and speak openly.

“We can do it any way you want and dare, Bianka,” the Italian beauty managed to say, passing the ball to her opponent’s court while raising her hands in the air. “I can use my fingers to milk you for good.” She paused dramatically. “Or any other part of my body of your choice.”

“Well,” Bianka took a good look up and down Melania’s curvaceous figure before continuing to speak. “From what I can see, you have a better chance with your hands than with any of the other flabby things you bring to this meeting.”

“What a bad memory you have. You didn’t feel anything flabby the other night, but I did, in your body,” Melania spat out her own lie as she glared at Bianka’s fat chest with contempt.

“Bullshit,” the white-haired girl replied. “Just say the word, and I’ll show you how fucking wrong you are, Melania.”

“You speak up once and for all about how you want to do this, and I will give it to you,” the brunette growled. “Just say it, you coward.”

“You said it, little bitch,” Bianka grunted.

Melania never knew which of them would have decisively issued the challenge, or even if one of them had finally dared to do so. But, when a noise was heard beyond the mesh door of the tent, both of them startled and reacted at the same time. Before she knew what she was doing, Melania found herself with Bianka’s large, sweaty boobs in her hands, and her own big breasts gripped fiercely by her nemesis’ fingers. Their natural instincts had decided, and now it was literally in the hands of both petite woman to work out who of them was the best milkmaid.

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Words: 1803.