The impact of the arch throwing them forward — the full, swinging, slap-weight quality of both breasts connecting with Mira's with the flat, meaty impact of flesh striking flesh, the bounce of Mira's milk-heavy breasts meeting the contact, a thin spray of warm milk leaving Mira's left nipple from the jarring and landing in a wet line across Avriana's chest.
Mira made a sound.
Not pain. The "Ohh—~" of a woman feeling a secondary sensation arrive through the primary — the weight of a body above her shifting, the pressure changing, the warm milk leaving her with the releasing quality of pressure briefly finding an exit.
Avriana's face.
Pressed into the curve of Mira's neck — tears running from her eyes directly onto Mira's skin, the warm, wet, unstoppable quality of tears that had no intention of being held, her breath in sharp, fractured bursts against Mira's pulse.
