Self-Milking Scene

You sheepishly find some rocks to hide in, where you remove your [clothes].

Resting on your knees, you tilt backwards so as to admire your [allbreasts] as they rise and fall with each breath. You can already see white beads budding from your [nipples].

You cup a breast in each hand and begin to massage them, starting at your nipples but progressively shifting towards your chest as pleasurable aches skirt from beneath your fingers, sadistically frustrating your efforts. With each squeeze milk spills from your [breasts], sometimes in a slight jet, sometimes a small stream. It doesn’t take long before you’re wholly preoccupied with pleasure, letting milk flow carelessly down your body as you knead your cushiony orbs.

(if the pc has 2+ rows of breasts replace the above paragraph with the one below in brackets)
[You reach for your uppermost pair of breasts, take one in each hand, and begin to massage them, starting at your nipples but progressively shifting towards your chest as pleasurable aches skirt from beneath your fingers, sadistically frustrating your efforts. With each squeeze milk spills from your [breasts], sometimes in a slight jet, sometimes a small stream. It doesn’t take long before you’re wholly preoccupied with pleasure, letting milk flow carelessly down your body as you knead your cushiony orbs. As soon as the breasts you're massaging start to feel numb, you move downwards, methodically probing each in turn.]

As the minutes pass you descend even further into a dissociated haze as milk trickles down into the grass beneath you. Eventually, almost without noticing it, you begin to slow down, your thoroughly drained breasts now only yielding occasional drops in response to your absent-minded groping.

Blissfully exhausted, you let your milk-soaked body collapse into the soft though similarly milk-dewed grass and drift off to sleep.