Another painful prod from her stomach parted dry lips. Andrea lowered her head close, and trapped the tip of the soft nipple with her mouth. Just to get the flow started, Andrea gave it a few experimental flicks of her tongue. Just get it started, fill the bottle, drink, go back to sleep, and hope Jess didn't have any awkward questions for her in the morning.
But when the milk started to run, Andrea made no motion to back away and use the empty bottle she had brought with her. Instead her tongue danced, flirted, dared the nipple to part with more of its precious fluid. Her sucking lips accused the breast of being miserly.
The nipple responded by puffing itself out in outrage while loosening the valve on the massive reservoir it was trusted to. Her eyes popped open as she saw fugitive sprays escaping her. Milk splatters dotted her shirt with dark wet circles. She clamped her mouth further down the base of the now fully erect nipple to prevent any milk trying to flee her hungry stomach.
It was working. Geysers of sweet cream jetted down the back of her throat filling her stomach, forcing her shirt to make a slow retreat across the latitude of her burgeoning belly. On the other end of the milk swollen bulge, the top button of her jeans creaked in protest. Her hand went to free it and lingered there briefly before darting underneath soaked panties.
But when the milk started to run, Andrea made no motion to back away and use the empty bottle she had brought with her. Instead her tongue danced, flirted, dared the nipple to part with more of its precious fluid. Her sucking lips accused the breast of being miserly.
The nipple responded by puffing itself out in outrage while loosening the valve on the massive reservoir it was trusted to. Her eyes popped open as she saw fugitive sprays escaping her. Milk splatters dotted her shirt with dark wet circles. She clamped her mouth further down the base of the now fully erect nipple to prevent any milk trying to flee her hungry stomach.
It was working. Geysers of sweet cream jetted down the back of her throat filling her stomach, forcing her shirt to make a slow retreat across the latitude of her burgeoning belly. On the other end of the milk swollen bulge, the top button of her jeans creaked in protest. Her hand went to free it and lingered there briefly before darting underneath soaked panties.