Harshwhinny's Milk Tastes Like Victory

http://archive.heinessen.com/mlp/thread/17893075#p17900820

>coming back to the hotel after spending a day in the sun
>tired in the way only a day spent loafing on the beach can make you
>Harshwhinny walks right over to the bed, laying down on her back
>her voice is harsh, like usual, but not angry
>"I have NEVER felt so tired, and unprofessional."
>"I enjoy the time off of work, but this foal is so heavy, and now that I am making milk, I can't even stand for long."
>It's true.
>Her breasts... is breasts the right word?
>Whatever, her breasts look really full, nearly ready to pop under that modesty maternity suit
>well, it's your foal... satyr? Don't know yet.
>But anyway, it's yours
>she's yours, and you're hers
>she opens her mouth to complain about her back, but stops abruptly when she feels your hands on her breasts
>she smiles slightly, laying back
>it's easy enough to push the suit aside, exposing both of her beautiful teats, with a strip of fabric running down between them
>you lean in, and lick along each sensitive nipple
>she makes a little, half-suppressed moan of appreciation
>she may be a bit of a bitch sometimes, but you love her, and you're here to ease her burden
>you press your lips around her nipple, and suckle
>the room stays quiet, just the sound of her breathing and your drinking
>her hind hooves rest on your shoulders as you drain her
>it takes several long minutes, but finally you pull your lips free of her second nipple
>she lets out a calm, relaxed breath. No longer sore.
>you adjust her suit again, and then climb up into the bed with her
>you snuggle together, and she's out like a light
>it's a vacation, and midday naps are par for the course
>you run your hand over her belly, and think of the foal growing inside
>and you are happy.