The barn air was thick with the smell of hay, animal heat, and the sweet, heavy scent of fresh milk. Anya and Irina, their young bodies taut under starched white coats, faced each other. Their aprons were already soaked through, plastered to their thighs with spilled cream and their own arousal.

“I need you,” Anya breathed, her voice a husky promise. Her fingers, slick from the milking, found the tie of Irina’s apron. She pulled it loose, the wet fabric slapping softly against Irina’s stomach.

Irina’s hands were already on Anya’s tits, kneading the full, heavy mounds through the thin cotton of her shirt and coat. “Your nipples are so hard, *kotik*,” she murmured, pinching one through the fabric until Anya gasped. “They’re begging to be tasted.”

With a hungry moan, Anya pushed Irina’s coat open. Her tits spilled out, full and pale, the areolas a deep pink, the nipples stiff peaks. Beads of warm milk already glistened at the tips. Irina didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her tongue flat and hot, and licked a thick stripe from the underside of Anya’s tit to her nipple, collecting the sweet drops.

“More,” Anya demanded, her own hands fumbling for the clay pot of sour cream they’d brought. She dipped two fingers in, the cool, thick substance a shock against her heated skin. She smeared it over Irina’s exposed tits, coating the