Nyasha's Morning (Patreon)

Nyasha’s eyes fluttered open and she breathed in the salty Caribbean sea air that lazily poured in through the open balcony of her suite. She took a moment to let the rest of her body wake up, slow and languid in the sheets. She was in no rush. She had no idea what time it was beyond ‘morning…probably.’ And she didn’t need to. 

She wasn’t going anywhere.

She was naked, cradled by the sheets and memory foam of the luxurious resort bed. Fortunately the foam was non-absorbent, as it appeared that her nipples were the next parts of her to wake up, and she could feel the unending lactation dribbling down her breasts. She sighed - part pleasure, part long accepted resignation - and the deep breath raised the breasts which were already larger than her head higher above her, blocking the view of the rest of her body. Her tits, ceaselessly full of milk to the point of constant gentle leaking, remained round and high on her ribs even as she was so fully reclined. Nyasha was starting to feel the mild moisture pooled around her sides. This sensation would be what most urgently got her out of the bed.

Thank god for housekeeping.

With a groan she shifted, her perky ass dragging along the sheets. Nyasha felt the delicious ache inside of it…and that wasn’t all she could still feel within. That guy from the bachelor party had really gotten in deep last night. She smiled, recalling his hands, his flabbergasted face that his buddy was marrying some mousy woman back in the states but he had his hands on some milky big-titted vacation ass. It had felt great, a nice break for her, but as Nyasha sat up she decided that she’d switch back to pussy-fucking for the next few days.

As she shifted into the sunbeams her dark skin - a mix of heritage and years on the beach - sparkled from well-earned sweat. Her hair, a short-yet-messy pixie cut, shined. And as she stood up the feathers that had grown in around her pussy at midnight rustled. She lazily ran a hand through them, brushing the full lips beneath them, and shivered. The yummy sort of shiver.

“Guess I better get to plucking.”

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