Drink deeply of her milk

You lean forward. Pausing an inch form her breasts you look around as if suddenly afraid to be seen. But you are alone in that cave. Self-consciously you push the sword of the saint aside. You shiver in desire and take her breasts in hand and sink your lips around her tit. Brigette groans as you tenderly suck her nipple, and are rewarded by a steady trickle of the thick fluid. You swirl it around your tongue, rejoicing in the heavy flavour of her milk. The milk warms your throat as it trickles down thickly and pools in your belly. It's like drinking honey. You feel so calm here, suckling at your sister’s too firm breasts,. You don’t resist as Brigette’s hands lace into your hair, clutching you to her. There is nowhere you would rather be.

“Sabine. Please. Don’t stop.”

You have no intention to. It’s too wonderful to even consider it. The sap-like milk seems endless. You nuzzle her massive breasts. You resist at first when her hands eventually draw you away.

“Shh. Shh-shh. That one’s done,” Brigette murmurs and quickly supplies you with her other nipple. Hungrily you attack her other breast. Her milk fills you with a strange lethargy. Your clothes feel suddenly constricting, like they are a size too small. You’re warm, uncomfortably so. Must be the fire. You separate from Brigette’s breast only long enough to pull off your white robes, at once pressing yourself against her green body again, feeling the firmness of her curves as you eagerly resuming feeding from her weeping breast.

You gasp as you feel something gliding between your legs, stroking your slit. “Thank you, Sabine,” Brigette murmurs. “Let me repay you.”

You don’t object. Your mouth is far too busy. You squirm against her body as the former sister strokes your furrow, coating her fingers thickly in your girl cum before sliding them inside you. You moan but never stop feasting. Some milk dribbles from your lips and down Brigette’s expansive bust.

“Let me love you,” Brigette whispers, stroking you with slow, tender movements of her fingers. “Let me wash away what that demon did.”

Tears spring from your eyes. You pull yourself closer to her, your cheek resting against the pillow of her breasts, feeling the tenderness of the other woman, comforted by her understanding, her knowing touch. You cry out in exultation as you finally come, and when done finally release her teat, only to bury your face between her love pillows and cry for your lost virginity.

Brigette cradles you close and gently pets your hair. The milk and her tenderness warm you. You drowse, at peace, and sleep steals over you like a blanket of oblivion.