Adora and Maeve

Finished!  Cowgirl Adora and werewolf Maeve OCes belong to my Patron.

 As Maeve thrust upwards, her canine endowment spearheads a hole-straining, cunt-crushing thrust. An encroachment upon the fertile bovine's salt-sown fuck-field. Tight cunny walls hug shaft, head, and strain against the girth of werewolf knot. Maeve was content. To be an employer sexually rutting the matronly cowgirl atop her was an inevitability in conflict of interest. To nut her sloppily viscous seed into fertile MILF-muff was to tempt both fate and the health department's wrath. To make a habit of daily sexual escapades with Adora was to grow accustomed to accosting her employee-with-benefits. Even so, the employer asserted her dominance and the employee always enjoyed the attention. In lightening her load, Maeve's balls lightened like her mood for the day to come. To nut once, twice, thrice in therapeutic thrusting before, or even during, Adora's daily milking was divine. Those large chocolate milk-bags, those overly-full bovine udders. They deserved to be milked, and with eyes full of desire, Maeve pressed her cheek to one and traced the warm sweater-puppy with her tongue.

Inevitably both women would be satisfied long after the business was meant to open. Only then, after Maeve left Adora inseminated and ruffled from too much affection, would the train begin. The other employees who worked so hard to open the store would slowly trickle in throughout the morning. Each would get the sloppy leavings of Maeve and those who came before. Sloppy fourths, fifths, and more. But here and now, in this back room of the store, Maeve continued to thrust. This was just the first orgasm building in the throb of her tapered wolf-cock, the hitch of her pendulous nutsack, and feminine gasps for air from both women. And as Maeve hefted one of Adora's milk-tanks, she could almost feel the profit of fresh cowgirl  cream. The fresh milk in Adora's tit let it weigh heavy and firm in Maeve's palm. Today, like her employee, would be bountiful.