Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The lutescent orb of gas and plasma we all know and love shines from it's slowly descending route above, rays bringing light to the idyllic little town below. At the edge of it, sitting upon a forest-coated hill that stands near the local school, stands a small cottage of umber shingles and wooden walls, great glass windows letting in the sun's rays. A bicycle lies against the oaken abode's fence, indication of the lone resident there.
The young woman, dryad in race, that had arrived from school was one of wide hips and ample bosom, her milk chocolate-skinned fertile form making the girl greatly desired by a great many of her grade, not to mention the other occupants of the school and even the town. Violetta, for that is the dryad's name, lay on the wooden deck, adorned in green-striped clear stockings and a teal miniskirt of plaid design. A sylvan, midriff baring top lies on the nubile teen's form, pale green hair in a ponytail and glasses over jade eyes.
Violetta's hands have made a few alterations to this attire recently, however. The tank top has been shed and the skirt lies around her ankles, revealing Violetta's underwear-lacking state. A hand toys with her breast as another slowly works a finger in her slit, soft moans beginning to slip from her lips. This is Violetta's homecoming ritual, the free-spirited dryad utilizing the hour between her arrival and the return of her older sister to indulge in the pleasures of the body. She kept an eye on the watch beside her, checking how long she had before her sister came home. Fifty minutes, plenty of time.
The young woman, dryad in race, that had arrived from school was one of wide hips and ample bosom, her milk chocolate-skinned fertile form making the girl greatly desired by a great many of her grade, not to mention the other occupants of the school and even the town. Violetta, for that is the dryad's name, lay on the wooden deck, adorned in green-striped clear stockings and a teal miniskirt of plaid design. A sylvan, midriff baring top lies on the nubile teen's form, pale green hair in a ponytail and glasses over jade eyes.
Violetta's hands have made a few alterations to this attire recently, however. The tank top has been shed and the skirt lies around her ankles, revealing Violetta's underwear-lacking state. A hand toys with her breast as another slowly works a finger in her slit, soft moans beginning to slip from her lips. This is Violetta's homecoming ritual, the free-spirited dryad utilizing the hour between her arrival and the return of her older sister to indulge in the pleasures of the body. She kept an eye on the watch beside her, checking how long she had before her sister came home. Fifty minutes, plenty of time.
