With how pregnant she is, her tits have transformed from the firm-and-heavy, damn-near-textbook set of tits that they usually are, to a pair of boobs that are out of place on a frame as small as hers. You can feel the fluid sloshing inside of them as your hands move along their fat; their dark-green, pebbly nipples squirt and leak when you fit them in the gap between your index and middle fingers. Warm, creamy milk drips from between your fingers, across your hands, and down your wrists when you feel them.
“Milk me,” she cries out hoarsely. Her tone is a mix between a stark command and a pathetic beg. “Gods, they’re so sore. I don’t care if it’s wasted. Just give me a night that I don’t lose sleep over how badly they hurt.”
Far be it from you to deny your partner her needs like that[pc.isMilky|, and, frankly, you understand completely where she’s coming from]. You pinch both of her nipples between your thumb and index fingers, and you ripple the rest of your fingers across the supple, flawless flesh of her boobs. Instantly, the thick, heady rush of milk bursts from her nipples in several long, thin streams, coating your hands and soaking into the grass beneath her. The motions of your hips into hers make her body rock and sway, which cause the flow to jerk erratically between ‘flowing stream’ and ‘wild waterfall’.
“Yes, shit, yes!” Aisling gasps out, her voice rattling in her throat. She lets out a long, heavy groan, sounding like a boar – or, rather, a cow – that escalates and relaxes in time with your milking motions. The grass beneath her chest is soaked white, the fluids lingering among the blades before soaking into the dirt. “Mmmm, [pc.name], baby… I might just need to keep you. I need a dick to keep me full and a pair of hands to keep me empty every other hour of the day.”
