Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord-Chapter 22: Generous Flesh(1)(R18+)[Bonus]

"Yelp!"

Maggie let out a soft yelp as she instinctively pulled away, her body recoiling from Steve.

Her arms crossed over her chest in a futile attempt to hide the milk still dripping from her massive breasts.

She averted her gaze, eyes cast downward, cheeks flushed with confusion and embarrassment.

Steve remained where he was, not quite shocked, though he did appear momentarily frozen— In his mind, the thought lingered-

' She's already... leaking?' It puzzled him. He hadn't expected that. The situation had escalated quickly—unexpectedly—and now he wasn't sure how to respond.

Maggie, meanwhile, kept her eyes averted, her thoughts a whirlwind.

'Why now?' she wondered.

'Why am I dripping just from that touch?' The sensation had come so suddenly, catching her off guard.

She tried to push the thought away, tried to center herself, but her mind felt cloudy, like it had been interrupted mid-thought—overwhelmed by something she couldn't name.

She noticed it immediately—this time, it was different. Just from the simple contact, she could feel it: her body reacting more intensely, more instinctively.

Her breasts had become firmer, more sensitive, as if responding to his touch alone.

They felt heavier now, fuller, almost throbbing, and she could see the change herself.

They looked larger, more enticing—so much so that even she was taken aback, her mouth nearly watering in confusion and reluctant desire.

'What's going on with me?' she thought, flustered.

'Why am I reacting like this... to him? I shouldn't be. I really shouldn't.'

And yet, there it was again—the warm drip trailing down, betraying her denial.

'Why the fuck...Why the fuck am I leaking again?'

"Sorry..." Maggie murmured quietly, barely audible, as if ashamed of the reaction her body had betrayed.

Steve, still watching her carefully, picked up on the shift in her aura—something stormy yet soft, caught between thunder and surrender. He leaned in a little, uncertain but honest, and said,

"If... you don't mind... I really wouldn't mind helping you with it."

Her eyes widened.

"Help me?" she repeated, still breathless.

He nodded, swallowing lightly.

"I could... I could suck them. If that would help."

'Hehe...I had watched this is one of my pornos back on earth...with just a little bit of luck, I might actually pull it off.'

Her entire face lit up in a flush of red, her breath catching as her eyes met his.

'Suck them?' The words echoed in her mind, louder than they should have.

She wasn't sure why hearing that stirred something in her—but it did.

A tingle traced down her spine, and she shook her head, trying to banish the thought, but it only lingered.

Steve caught the flicker in her eyes, her hesitation, her confusion.

"I really don't mind..." he said softly.

"You've helped me a lot already... I just want to help you too, however I can."

At first, she was shocked—too overwhelmed to even form a proper response.

But slowly, her scattered thoughts began to settle.

'He actually... makes sense...' she reasoned to herself.

'I mean, I can't just keep pushing him away like this. And it's not... it's not like it's wrong, is it? Letting him suckle... it's just helping, right?...damnit, why do I keep thinking this way.'

She glanced at him again. His face was so sincere, eyes clear and unassuming. There was no malice, no arrogance—just concern. Her own face, however, was still burning.

Taking a quiet breath, she straightened up, trying to gather her resolve. She looked into his eyes, then down at herself, then back again.

"Um... if you really don't mind..."

"I don't." Steve replied gently.

She hesitated once more, heart thudding, before finally nodding.

Her full, heavy breasts swayed with a soft, teasing grace as she stepped closer, finally letting them fall free from her grasp. They still glistened—dewed with warmth, damp from before—each curve kissed by lingering moisture. With every subtle movement, another droplet slipped free, sliding lazily down the slope of her skin, tracing her curves like a lover's touch.

She noticed it—felt it—but didn't stop. There was a flush beneath her skin, an ache in her breath, flustered by the sheer rawness of it all. And yet her body moved forward, slow and deliberate, as if desire itself had taken over—leading her where her mind hesitated to follow.

Steve watched her with that same subtle, knowing smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't say a word.

Outwardly, he kept calm—collected, almost saintly in posture—but inside, he was anything but.

When she finally reached him, her breath hitched. She hesitated for only a moment before she lifted her chest forward, presenting herself with quiet resolve.

Her eyes turned away, avoiding his gaze as if to shield herself from what she already knew she wanted.

There was a blush on her cheeks, but no denial in her heart.

Steve paused. Just for a second.

Then, gently—carefully—he reached out, his fingers brushing against her skin before cupping one of her breasts.

He gave it a soft, reverent squeeze, his touch tender, almost exploratory.

The weight of her warmth in his palm, the slight tremble in her breath—it was enough to make time slow.

Neither of them said a word. None were needed.

Her breasts were incredibly soft—plush, warm, and impossibly full. So full, in fact, that even Steve's large hand could barely hold one in its entirety.

They spilled over his fingers with every squeeze, heavy and tender beneath his touch.

As he gently pressed, a small bead of milk welled up at her stiffening nipple, glistening like dew.

Her breath caught in her throat, cheeks blooming with color as her body reacted—an involuntary shiver, a barely suppressed sound caught just behind her lips.

Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Steve paused, watching her face, noting every little twitch, every tell. Then, slowly, he leaned forward—his lips brushing her skin first, reverent and warm—before his tongue slipped out and delivered a soft, teasing lick across her damp nipple.

The taste, faint and sweet, lingered on his tongue. Her back arched almost instinctively, a soft gasp escaping her as pleasure rippled through her like a wave.

And then—driven by instinct, by tension that had been mounting between them— He leaned in, lips parting as he wrapped his mouth around her swollen, milk-laced breast, greedily pulling in as much of the generous flesh as he could.

Warm and heavy, it filled his mouth with a decadent fullness, the faint taste of milk spilling across his tongue as he suckled deeply, hungrily, lost in the intoxicating softness of her breasts.

***

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