MILK UDDERS, part 8

Hi, Bianka, nice to meet you too,” the mother of her newly acquainted nemesis said. Under the moon and the stars, Bianka could see the obvious similarities between the two Italian women, Emilia being an older version of Melania, though less busty and, even if that was admitting something she didn’t want to, less explosively beautiful than her daughter.

“Likewise, Emilia,” she managed to say as her eyes escaped for a moment to Melania’s heavy bust with which she had been battling until a few seconds ago. The brunette’s pair was moving up and down on her chest, and Bianka’s own fat boobs seemed to be syncing up with her counterparts as both petite women tried to recover themselves from what had just happened.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Melania,” her own mother greeted her rival. “I’m glad my daughter finally meets someone her own age up here.”

Bianka managed to hide the contempt on her face behind a fake smile. As she looked at the two mothers, she realized that they reflected the same similarities and dissimilarities that existed between her and Melania. Both shared the same height, build and age—Emilia must have just turned 40 or so, like her own mother—but yet, at the same time, their beautiful features contradicted the opposites. Sarah didn’t have Bianka’s striking white hair, but she was a platinum blonde while Emilia had very dark brown hair, and as opposed to the Italian’s dark eyes and tanned skin, the Austrian’s had blue eyes and light skin.

Bianka then glanced toward Melania, and found her also looking at the older women with interest. Feeling a new level of rivalry with her now that they were both undeniably comparing their mothers as well, she had to bite her tongue to keep from spitting out everything she was thinking. The task became more complicated to accomplish when Melania’s arrogant gaze met hers, but it was nothing compared to when, seconds later, the brunette glanced down to stare brazenly at her breasts. The electricity between the busty foes sparkled in the air as Bianka cheekily looked at Melania’s big glands in return, the memory of the hard contact between equal busts assailing her mind with heat and voltage. But before something blew up between the petite girls, a few words from Bianka’s mother brought both of their attention back to the older women.

“…so you’re both in the milk business too?” Sarah was asking.

“Yes, we had a dairy farm in Formigine, but after divorcing my husband, my daughter and I have decided to start from scratch elsewhere,” Emilia explained. “And what better place than here?”

“I’m also divorced,” Bianka’s mother explained. “Although I got my asshole ex-husband to leave the farm to me…”

A sneaky gesture from Melania caused Bianka to turn away from the conversation. The busty females took a few steps away from their mothers and their she-dogs, and approached each other right on the border line.

“So milkmaid, huh?” Bianka said with a whisper.

“You too, it seems,” Melania muttered back.

“A better milkmaid than you, that’s for sure,” the blue-eyed girl added with a certain derision. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked that the older women were not listening to them.

“Let me doubt very strongly that you can milk more and better than I can,” the Italian girl hissed.

Melania’s words forced a shiver along Bianka’s spine, but it was her boobs that received the biggest shock. Gritting her teeth, the blue-eyed Austrian felt her nipples throbbing in wet hardening as her mind ran through all the ramifications of the other milkmaid’s arrogant boast.

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Choosen by Pedro Roche. Words: 610 words.

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Pedro Roche, you can choose from which text story you want the next part: from this story or from another one, and I'll put you in the queue.

Those of you who have not yet chosen which story/s you want, let me know so I can put you in the corresponding queue.

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LATER TODAY: AI ART CREATOR: ANGRY TITFIGHT