Sugar Sand Cay

Ocean curled away and started to ask if she was coming on too strong, but Rhonda sought her and scooped her torso down till her breast found the girl's mouth again. "I'm just fine, no need to apologize. Just keep going. Right there. L-like that."

Ocean's obedience had Rhonda squeezing handfuls of dirt. The pleasant tingles weakened her joints as her G―larger by now. Closer to H or even I―cup breast was taken in and transformed into a point of rapture within Ocean's mouth. It was a sensation that Rhonda couldn't quite bring herself to adjust to―existing on the opposite shore of ecstasy where she had never travelled with another partner.

Ocean began to inhale, catching skin and flesh in her mouth as she suckled. As close as they were, their sounds beat out the pounding rain and bowling thunder. Their scents were even bolder than that of the tropically-stirred jungle. Together, they were becoming one.

Rhonda tried smoothing out her breathing but she felt hiccups when she started feeling the familiar kicks of hormones flooding over her. It hadn't been instant, but she knew the sensation and yielded to it after remembering that her thrill was not in holding back or delaying gratification. Just like that, her right breast let down and her sexy, full mound discarded its disguise of dormancy. She felt her cream pooling behind her nipple then running away as hot magma. It was such a good feeling to fully release. Actually, it was better than it had been with any of her children or her husband. Her body knew what she didn't, which was how much milk to release, at what speed, and for what reason.

She was releasing more than she ever had, at a fast, steady speed, for Ocean's suckling mouth.

Again, the girl with blue-tipped hair groaned and again Rhonda felt the vibration all over her skin. It was more than any woman should have to deal with, but it was Rhonda's burden and pleasure to bear. Hot, puffing breaths bathed the front of her breast when Ocean struggled to swallow a whole mouthful―always harder to swallow on one's back―but proving herself the trooper, she took the whole load from both her cheeks and filled herself on the treat, not missing a drop.

The sweet sensation of emptying made Rhonda's eyes cross and senses smear. She soon lost track of time. She'd tried to keep track by counting the number of swallows, but there were times when Ocean fell behind and times when she chugged right away. The spacing between her gulps varied so any count would have been inaccurate. Yet, for the same reason, Rhonda couldn't dislodge herself from the pleasure. Even as a beginner, Ocean seemed to know when to switch up her technique. For what felt like half an hour, she only used her lips, which were luscious and capable of holding back all the pressured force of her sucking harder and harder. Then, just when the mother above her wanted more, she alternated the use of her teeth. Hard yet forgiving, front teeth proved the perfect thing to grind her nipples on. In this section, they worked together, wordlessly adjusting mouth and jaw and chest and shoulders to create intense, wincing pleasures.

"I'm empty," Rhonda gasped, realizing after a long while that her partner had been licking when she was at regular size. Her areola were their coral pink and her breast had lost the about-to-burst look, but Ocean hadn't so much as opened her eyes to see.

In fact, Ocean merely tucked in her chin and curled herself to her right. "No you aren't," growled the unsated lesbian nurser as she claimed Rhonda as her own yet again. This time, her left gourd was up for grabs, and Rhonda allowed her to take it for more than the fact that she was first―and only―in line.

"You're very, very good at this," said the woman above.

Ocean's expression flashed primal. It wasn't the primal need to feed, though, but yet another dominating, ancient force.

Rhonda had lost much of her arm strength from holding a frame for so long. By the time her second breast entered the picture, she'd lowered onto her elbows, then curled forward and around so that her arms supported Ocean's neck and head. Naturally, they rolled over a shoulder and the younger woman took the top position as Rhonda held her secure and stroked her hair. Her arms caressed all extremities of the superb body atop her. Even the grit of sand and soil couldn't keep what was sexiest about Ocean from Rhonda's fingertips.

Down her touch trawled from silky lengths of blue-licked hair, through to a lithe neck that was craned toward the mother's leaking point. She felt effort, felt muscles rolling and sliding underneath like a baby tumbling in her mother's womb. Each powerful seizure led the way for a bulging pocket of milk. One after the other they marched down her throat, seemingly never ending, in vast quantities—more than Rhonda suspected herself of having. Perhaps she was steady producing, responding to the sudden spike in demand.

Her palms found the slim but strong build of Ocean's back, fingers falling toward the dip of her spine which they rolled down like a slide. Ocean purred delightedly. Her inner thigh grazed up Rhonda's outer leg, then the side of her ass, then finally her hip. The act spread Ocean further over the pinned blonde.

The nurser couldn't help but pat herself on the back. Her milk had made Ocean strong and her lush body had motivated a swath of energy. Her nurturing had worked. She could submit entirely to another drive: her own curious pleasure.

Rhonda finally found two humps of ass―the ones she'd seen and gawked at and scorned and lusted for. Seriously, Ocean had booty like waves—like a tsunami. The sensation of fingers rolling up a consistent incline, finding a soft plateau, then tumbling toward the back was amazing. Not being able to see only aided the feeling. Soft skin and flesh were able to completely overwhelm her tactile senses.

Ocean sucked harder. She licked faster. She latched more energy. She liked it when her ass was played with, evidently. Which was perfect, since Rhonda loved having her titties drained.

It's about nurture. It's about caring and comfort.

No. No it isn't. Not anymore.

Body more alert than ever, she felt long, slender tools being used to draw back the curtain of her bikini bottom. Exploratory touch pressed over Rhonda's needy middle, gentle over her hooded peak and pulsing over her outer lips.

"Wet for me," Ocean's words were a matter of fact.

"I can't help what my body does," Rhonda answered.

"Is this a mistake?"

It was. "I agree with my body, if that answers your question."

"I love how your body speaks."

Rhonda was so aroused. When she felt the nodes of Ocean's pleasure near her opening, it was like she was able to suck them in. Her hot, womanly cavern was puffy and throbbing. She was open yet full with only two welcome guests within her. They took their time, pushing into her sides and top, before they curled upward and made her contract with her G spot. Rhonda's vision was spotted. Her muscles thumped at a synchronous rhythm. She could feel the moisture in Ocean's palm and fingers and against her crotch―she'd just cum all over this hot nymph without trying.

"Fuck, that's hot," gasped Ocean. Her face was all wonder. She knew her technique didn't contribute much and that it was how much pent up sexual vibrance had been tamped down inside Rhonda.

"Again," the woman commanded, then felt through the air till she found Ocean's bold, blue hair and pulled it to her chest.

Their bodies locked perfectly. Rhonda felt hungry pulls at her areola and rapid flicks of a nipple. The pouring of her nectar deep into a loving mouth made her thighs clench, and all there was to snare in a vice was a thigh belonging to her partner. The blue haired girl moaned at being squeezed―at how close both of their bodies were. They took more and more. Rhonda's hands were everywhere, finding skin and softness and heat like she couldn't have suspected. It was sensory overload. She was making fiery love with a woman and couldn't believe the width or depth of all of it.

On a moan and a sharp inhale for breath, Ocean returned with doubled efforts. Greedy fingers squeezed around Rhonda's enormous, beautiful breast. Hard teething felt like it would light a friction fire despite the slick, mouth lubricant. It was almost too much, but it never crossed that line. Ocean knew―fuck, how was she perfect enough to know?

A smacking thud answered. Maybe it was an accident? An adjustment in their confined position? But then it happened again and Rhonda realized she wanted it to be intentional because it set her loins to raining. Ocean was using her wide, powerful hips to drive her exposed pussy against Rhonda's. As she sucked, the blue-haired girl ground and humped, finding her pleasure against Rhonda's own womanhood.

This was it, Rhonda realized. This was the spark. The presentness in these frozen seconds as time slows down for them was what had been missing. All at once, she felt her breast size shrinking slightly as her milk ejected wildly from her colossals, the breath on said breasts, the jagged breathing running all through Ocean's body, and the slap, slap, SLAP! of their hips as they tribbed.

Pacing was an afterthought. They both pushed through the murky, swamp of slowed time up the stairway to their mutual bliss. The blonde pushed her pelvis up and stuck out her chest as the younger of the two cast away all shame. They operated only for pleasure, satisfaction, warmth, and need. They fucked and fucked and fucked. And when it seemed impossible for time to stretch any further, it snapped and they fell into a timeless, heavenly rapture.

Rhonda went diamond hard then ragdoll limp. Both her nipples were exposed. As rain fell down around them, her milk geysered in the opposite direction, blasting through the air like shooting stars in reverse. The two built a new shelter, one where they were alone together on the tropical island of their dreams. They called it 'lust', and it kept them warm and fed and happy, long into the night.

It was near dawn when they were at last interrupted. It was Rhonda who heard the puttering of a boat offshore, trying to wake her lover. It was hard. Ocean did fit perfectly against her, full where Rhonda was concave, slim where she was curvaceous. More so, there was a need that only a woman would know to fill. It had been Ocean who had traveled to the spot and reached it first. Like a first kiss or first love, the sweet, blue-haired girl would hold a place in Rhonda's heart forever. She wasn't convinced that she wanted it to end.

"Is that a boat?" Ocean stirred, woken without Rhonda's saying a word.

The older woman only nodded and tilted herself to the side. Off Ocean came, though she did sit up first and balance her firm, round booty on Rhonda's hips. 'Otherworldly' defined the look of sunlight catching her features through the ribs of tree branches. Rhonda was speechless as she looked up, beholding the lover she would only have for a single night.

Ocean tilted her head and looked out the corner of her eye, catching Rhonda gawking openly. It seemed to make her glow from inside and she grinned.

"Go," Rhonda commanded. "We can't miss them after all we've been through."

"What we've been through gives us a great reason to miss them," said Ocean as she got to her feet. "And whatever all of this meant, know that I will never forget it. This night has changed me."

"Feeling's mutual."

"I'm off."

Rhonda laid her head against the soil and listened to the sound of Ocean's heels beating soggy underbrush. They'd had several cat naps throughout the night so Rhonda knew she could have made the trip to the shore herself. They'd agreed Ocean would be the one to go, though. Those were the terms. Ocean needed the calories which justified their actions. It had been about survival―at first.

That promise which had started it all. It seemed so far away―mechanical and lame, now that Rhonda could recall it. Before the shame of her pithy excuse could catch her, she dove back into the sanctuary of her body where she could still feel herself; hollow, open, and yet entirely filled. This was it. She felt her muscles surging and her heart pounding. Her mind was present. She felt enough energy to build a whole beach house with her bare hands―had oodles of it to burn.

It worked. Ocean had given her the spark. It was back, and all it had taken was a night on the edge with her niece's girlfriend.

"Michelle. . . Ocean."

After stewing in post-orgasmic heat, she rose and brushed the dirt off her body as best she could. Her stance was wobbly from being on her back and side all night but she managed to find her bikini. It was soaked and cold—the worst sort of combination—but she tied the thing around her bottom and swung the frontward triangles toward her breasts. Her peaks were hard instantly from the chill of the morning and the memory of her paramour. Not only that. They seemed to have a bit of extra size to them. Odd.

Actually, her whole bikini fit oddly. It took time for her body to come awake, sure, but once it did she could feel herself full of milk. Again.

"Wait. When did Ocean drink me? There was the first time, but there was that other time too. . ."

It had actually been several times, which made her womanhood cinch just from counting. But her mind nagged her still. Something was definitely off. Ocean had nursed till they both nodded off and were only asleep for an hour at the most before they heard the boat engine. It couldn't have been more than a nap for the both of them, and Rhonda was all pliability before.

Or was there more to it? No, there was certainly more. Why weren't the timelines syncing?

She raised her hands to her orbs in complete disbelief. Veins, stark and blue, branched and forked from just below her collarbones through her slopes. The murky gray morning contrasted them, making her chest look like they were lit from the inside with brilliant lines of life. Of course, the true wonders were the flesh and ducts beneath. The second her palms graced the bottoms and lifted, she winced at the sensitivity. She was near popping, glutted absurdly, projecting a full foot in front of her. No wonder she'd wobbled when she stood. It wasn't sleep―again, she'd only cat napped―but this unforgivingly lascivious size.

"This has to be a mistake. . ." she muttered.

Yet, as she looked down, there they were. And, as she experimentally moved them again, her knees knocked together and she hissed through her teeth. Before she could register she felt trails of moisture cooling at her fronts. The chill of fresh breastmilk tickled around her bulbous fronts and clung to her, defying gravity till they touched her toned stomach and created pathways down her torso. It would seem that she was locked and loaded with plenty extra to spare.

Her bikini did her no good, either. She had half a mind to be rid of the thing, abandoning it like she had her sunglasses.

"Rhonda? Rhonda!" she heard from the beach.

Yes, she was being saved. She'd spent a night stranded with Ocean. Right. That was still her reality. It felt to her like it could have been one of her dreams or some game or something that she'd heard happening to someone else.

But no, it had to be her. She remembered the storm, recalled having to calm Ocean, and remembered how she'd provided her with the calories she needed to run to the beach. All of that was real. Had to be.

And so did the sacks of flesh dangling from her chest.

She decided to keep the bikini on so that at least her nipples would be covered. They didn't seem pleased by the decision, somehow going even harder and thickening to a completely new grade. It was the only choice to make. One night alone didn't warrant her looking like some island native with her titties hanging all the way out.

Toward the beach she trekked, feeling like every leaf or bit of moss was grazing over her tremendous bosom but only finding evidence of ocean breeze. She was so, so sensitive. It actually felt arousing to walk. It also made her crave the connectedness she'd shared―that most of all, actually. Having someone so close for so long, nestled into her chest was everything she never knew she needed.

Ocean was who she didn't know she needed.

As the waves of the shore could be heard, the finality of it all hit her and Rhonda took only a second or so at the tree line to hold her breath. When the air left her lungs, she stepped onto the beach. This sweet, sultry, solitude was over.

Once away from the line of trees, she heard her name and continued around the beach. She came upon a scenic view of her husband's boat parked about fifteen feet out, the skiff perched where the waves lapped gently, and Ocean flagged her down. A few others were with her.

Rhonda couldn't run but she did walk more eagerly as she searched the faces. She remembered what she would have left behind in a heated, flooding rush. Her husband, her son, her daughters, her niece. She was on family vacation. It was one for the history books, and there would be nothing else like it. Truly, she couldn't wait to have her arms around Mark and to pinch Caleb's cheeks. She wanted food. All her milking―including the miraculous morning load that now made her a titty monster―had come from seemingly nowhere, but her hunger pangs gripped her the minute she thought about the taste of a hot meal.

She was back. Everything could go back to normal.

But then she found that Ocean was standing at a distance. When Rhonda neared, the younger girl curled into her slightly. It wasn't arousal this time. Caution motivated the gesture.

"Ocean, come on. We're finally. . ." Rhonda trailed. She was close enough to the two others now to see that something was amiss. "Wh-who are you two?"

There was a man standing in front of her who reminded her of her husband. She would recognize her husband, obviously, and this wasn't Mark. She'd even been forgetful earlier and still, she knew to trust her gut. Mark was Mark.

This man wasn't Mark. His build was a little leaner and a little taller. He didn't have any facial hair at all, but had clear eyes and a ton of orange-blonde hair. The sun made him look like an angel from behind, and also accentuated a single bead of sadness as it escaped from the corner of his eye.

The woman at his side stood at a comfortable distance, like someone familiar but not intimate. She actually stood a little taller when Rhonda asked her question. It was almost like she was protecting the man, even though she was more than a foot shorter. She, too, was blond. And her body exploded into vast feminie curves. Her bikini strained around two soccer ball sized tits. In a way, she sort of reminded Rhonda of herself. They could actually be near the same age. Rhonda actually found herself staring, as the cleavage presented to her seemed quite pert for its size. After pulling away, almost certain that she'd been caught snooping, she realized she was safe because the blonde was looking Ocean over carefully.

"Who are you?" asked the blonde.

The man beside her looked to speak, but she took a forceful step forward and he paused.

"We've been stuck on this island for a night. That storm had us take shelter in the jungle. No injuries, just hungry and tired," Rhonda rattled off.

Her answer, as comprehensive as it was, couldn't satisfy the woman. "There was no storm, not recently. You mean a storm washed you up here?"

The man jolted. Again, the woman brought him pause, this time with an extended arm. Almost protective.

"Yes. I'm Rhonda. This is Ocean. If you'd be so kind as to take us to the Cay―. . ." the words were cut short.

Charging into the precisely manicured space between them, the man gawked at Rhonda. It made her feel naked, hidden under the gaze of a tall, young man. It was very apparent that her tits were very far away from her body and possibly at their lewdest, though, she stood confident despite her desire to flee.