Morvanna's powerful, fertile body convulsed against the sofa in a slow, earth-shaking release that seemed to draw power from the very deltas she commanded. Her six arms trembled uncontrollably, the upper pair gripping the edges of the seat while the middle webbed hands clawed at the air and the lowest sucker-tipped tendrils pulsed wildly, latched onto her own thick thighs and the heavy undersides of her breasts with rhythmic, wet suction.
The root-legs had fully dissolved into a writhing mass of thick, muscular tentacles that coiled and uncoiled in desperate spasms around her lower body and mine, anchoring her in place even as they stimulated every sensitive inch of her olive-green skin. The lotus and musk scent thickened into an overwhelming, heady fog that clung to the entire circle, fertile and earthy, like rich soil after a heavy rain mixed with raw feminine arousal.
