MILK UDDERS, part 16

Melania felt time slowing down as she turned her face. Right there, a dozen meters away, eighteen of her steps away, was Bianka Lautermilch. It was the first time she saw the white-haired girl since the night they had met and, to her regret, the brunette had to admit that the sunlight only emphasized the natural beauty of the Austrian milkmaid. That morning, Bianka’s blue eyes had a particular seductive spark in them, and her fair skin looked taut and smooth just where her white T-shirt and jeans didn’t hide it. Melania wasn’t surprised that her rival was dressed as tight as she was, although she was caught off guard by the fact that they both was wearing similar outfits for the second time in a row.

That way everyone could compare us better, she said to herself with a mixture of arrogance and anxiety as she looked Bianka up and down. The other female stood out in the crowd even though she was only five-foot-four-inches tall, and not only because of her strikingly white hair, but above all thanks to her generous and dangerous curves. As Bianka turned to greet an older man, Melania took the opportunity to check out her ass in profile, and she couldn’t help but let out a soft jealous hiss as she saw beyond the close-fitting denim how firm and plump it looked—not very different from her own. Running her dark eyes intently over Bianka’s legs, hips and waist, Melania couldn’t deny the painful fact that the two of them had been cast in the same mold, but the truth was that, although the Italian milkmaid would be happy if she knew for sure that her butt was the tightest or that her legs were the strongest, there was only two female assets where she longed to surpass Bianka in every possible way.

Melania’s attention was immediately drawn to the source of all her problems, and the mere sight of her nemesis’ shirt-covered boobs was enough to make her own pair throb with intensity. Even concealed, Bianka’s bust looked firm and heavy against the tight cotton and, to the brunette’s annoyance, they even appeared somehow a little bigger than they had seemed two nights before. Melania wasn’t sure if she had miscalculated the real size of the other young woman’s virtues when they had faced each other under the moon and stars, or if the shadows that the raised sun was forming under Bianka’s boobs were deceiving her eyes, but the reality was that the Austrian was still proving to be her greatest antagonist in an aspect in which she had never before encountered someone who played in her league.

That day, Bianka was still bringing more to the game, however. From her position, Melania could clearly see a gentle and unambiguous jiggle in the other milkmaid’s plump bosoms every time she made any movement, so she confirmed her mother’s words about her foe’s daughter not wearing a bra that morning. The Italian beauty had been aware that comparisons between the two pairs of boobs would be a common theme at the livestock fair, but the braless situation now made it clear to her just how intense the discussions about who was better endowed would be.

“You can talk to your friend later,” her mother said to her at that moment. “But now please take care of those customers.”

Melania nodded before attending to a young couple interested in buying a few liters of milk, but not even the cheeky glances at her softly bouncing breasts from both distracted her from keeping an eye on Bianka. The other girl was approaching the stall of Zweifrauen Milchhof, and it was then that Melania noticed a handsome young man walking beside her.

“Thanks for your help, Francesco,” her rival’s words reached Melania’s ears. “See you tonight then?”

“Of course,” the guy answered. “I can’t wait.”

They hugged each other in a way that Melania could recognize: both had a crush on each other. What filled Melania’s head, however, were thoughts about what it felt like for Francesco to squeeze Bianka’s dense globes against her body at that moment, and whether he would feel something better—weightier, larger—if he hugged her now.

Then, at last, it happened. As Francesco walked away, Melania’s dark eyes met Bianka’s blue eyes. The electricity that had surrounded the two milkmaids from the very first moment once again bristled the brunette’s tanned skin, and the hatred she had been holding inside her for hours and hours made her gaze burn and her breasts tighten. With her nipples hardening a little more under her T-shirt, Melania cursed because some of shameful humiliation must be glimmering against her will in her eyes too, with the memory of her big boobs being milked not releasing its painful grip on her ego. But what she didn’t expect at all was to see that, behind the dominant animosity reflected in Bianka’s stare, there was also some weakness, some embarrassment.

Is it frustration because we couldn’t finish what we started? Because she didn’t prevail against me that night? she mused, but immediately dismissed it. No, something else has happened. Something really humiliating…

Lowering her gaze, Melania caught a glimpse of what must be Bianka’s nipples stabbing against the white cotton of the shirt, and a wet throbbing sent a threat in her own breasts. There were so many similarities between their situations that the Italian milkmaid began to seriously consider whether her white-haired nemesis had experienced something similar to her over the past few days.

“Oh, Bianka, mein Schatz, thank goodness you’re here. Come!” Melania heard Sarah say. “We have a lot to do.”

The defiant look between the young women wasn’t broken until the Austrian arrived at her stall and began selling, but the hateful eye-to-eye contact was revived countless times over the next hour. Melania had lost count of how many times she had caught Bianka checking out her breasts, and she had to admit that she hadn’t missed any chance to take a good look at the other girl’s bosoms over and over again. During a good long comparison between the two girls, Melania had even been really tempted to walk into the other stall and murmur in Bianka’s ear a direct challenge to meet that very night at the border to resolve the whole matter. In that daydream, the brunette had visualized her enemy and her dressed as they were at that moment, with those tight-fitting shirts, and an intense blush had flooded her cheeks as she wondered how different it would be to feel the size and firmness of each other’s virtues without the protection of a bra—Melania had to freshen up with some water for after that thought.

Half an hour more of hateful stares and heated considerations passed until Melania saw Sarah sending her daughter to milk one of the cows on display next to their stall. With her heart beating fast and her mouth dry from nerves, the brunette turned to her mother.

“Mammi, I’m going to milk.” Without waiting for an answer, she went towards the cows and chose one of them.

There was a kind of general murmur as the people around saw the two busty young women caressing their cows. Small milking competitions were common at the Brennero fair and, although they tended to be friendly, they were always fun for the audience. However, by that time in the morning, rumors were already starting to spread that there were not a lot of good vibes between  the matriarchs of the new dairy farm, Madrefiglia Latteo, and of the already renowned Zweifrauen Milchhof. Melania didn’t believe that the bitter rivalry between her and Bianka would have extended beyond themselves, but she knew that the pleasure of watching the two beauties that everyone was comparing compete was more than enough to turn the milking contest into one of the great and most memorable events of the fair.

“Looks like it’s time to put on some show, isn’t it, Melania?” Bianka said to her as she led a cow out of the small enclosure.

“I don’t think there’s a better time, Bianka,” the Italian replied, taking her own cow out outside the fence. “Seven buckets?”

“Ten is better, don’t you think?” The white-haired beauty gestured to one of the hired men to bring her the buckets. “Surely an Italian cow is capable of giving that much milk.”

Does she know? Melania felt such tension in her hard nipples as she listened to her enemy’s words that she firmly believed she was going to spurt milk at any moment. Does she know what she did to me? she wondered with fear. No, no, it’s impossible for her to know anything!

“The real question is how much milk an Austrian cow can actually produce,” Melania instinctively countered. To her surprise, that desperate remark somehow triggered a reddish flush on Bianka’s white cheeks. Feeling herself blushing, she gestured for the buckets to be brought to her.

“I’m sure we can both satisfy our curiosity today,” the other woman said with a tone that had lost a little of its humor.

“I hope so,” the brunette added. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

The two petite beauties and their cows stopped in front of their stalls as men left the buckets at their feet. Seen from the outside, the little discussion full of innuendo had appeared to be simply the typical challenging banter at milking competitions, but Melania couldn’t help but think of all that the back-and-forth challenges involved. Both milkmaids had succeeded in hardening the other looks and blushing the other faces, and Melania didn’t need more than a simple glance at Bianka to know that the desire to be alone with each other again had also obsessively crossed her foe’s mind too many times.

“So…” Melania took the floor after a moment of silence. “The first milkmaid to fill ten buckets wins?”

“Yeah.” Something flashed in Bianka’s blue eyes, and Melania knew trouble was coming. “How about if whoever loses has to drink milk from the winner’s cow?” The audience seemed excited at the idea, and there were even some cheers. “Are you in, Melania?”

“Nothing like a little bet to spice this up, huh?” the brunette said while forcing a wide smile onto her lovely face. Then, a dirty idea unexpectedly flooded her mind. “Of course, I accept…but only if the loser does not drink from the bucket, but straight from the udder…”

It seemed impossible, but the cheeks of both young contenders reddened a little more. After everything that had happened, Melania felt on the verge of some kind of outburst, but she was determined to keep going if it meant coming out on top of Bianka.

“I’m good with that.” The white-haired Austrian licked her fleshy lips. “Shall we start?”

***

Words: 1814.