Hainora took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent of the sea, and exhaled before she opened her eyes again. Her toes curled in the fine white sand of the beach, the radiant warmth soaking into her feet while the bright sun warmed the rest of her through her loose white cotton clothing. It felt good to be out of the carriage, taking the air and feeling the sun again. It hadn't been her idea, and at first she'd resisted, but she was already beginning to be glad she'd listened to her wife's suggestion. She turned to look back at the others as they wandered into view across the dune, raised a hand to wave.
The first over were two of her daughters. It was impossible to mistake them for anything but. All three of them stood tall -- in Hainora's case, a full two heads above the norm -- and statuesque, strongly built with long blonde hair, prominent noses, and unusually long ears for a modern Elf. Melos was the shortest, born of Hainora's voluptuous wife Bliss, her features softened slightly by her mother's blood along with her hips, the modest swell of her bust, and her thighs. Tifereth, the younger of the two, was however the spitting image of her sire at her age -- tall, flat-chested, well-endowed (favouring nakedness in the sea over a swimsuit, Tifereth's fat uncut cock was freely swaying between her legs as she walked) and with a decidedly sharp, predatory look to her face. She bore little of her mother, Anwen, about her. Even in temperament, she resembled Hainora the most strongly of both her parents.
After them came a third daughter, Nala, and her wife, a curvy half-elf named Maitreya. They were a stark contrast together. Nala (not born of Hainora's own blood, but of two of her wives' union together) was a peach-skinned, somewhat tall elf with raven-black hair and a body best described as toned and firm, marred by vicious scars from an animal mauling along her right flank. Her features were playful, angular, typically Elven in their precise beauty if lacking the preternatural predator aspect of the true Starshadow line. Maitreya stood a head shorter than her wife, but what she lacked in height on her she more than made up with curves. Immense breasts jostled in her tight white swimming top, her hips carried an enticing sway, and there was the slightest pad of fat over the sturdy muscle of her core. And of course, between her legs, packed into a too-small bikini bottom, there was a handsomely large cock, too large by most standards, bulging out the fabric.
Bringing up the rear (save of course for Kayla, a short elf who endeavoured to avoid notice as a good slave, simply serving without drawing attention to herself. She, at the time, was lugging a large heavy basket up over the dune behind all of them, having already set out the large expanse of towels and rugs to spare her employer's from the indignity of lying on bare sand while wet) was one of Hainora's wives, Bliss, with her half-sister Ariana and her wife Letalya, Maitreya's parents. Ariana laughed and danced ahead of them on the sand, gleeful at the prospect of frolicking in the water, an innocent even at her age. Her auburn hair was tied tightly back, and she wore a simple one-piece suit in black. Her build was unremarkable -- not especially skinny, but not fat -- but the way she moved was graceful, lithe. She had a dancer's instincts.
Just as Maitreya stood in stark contrast to her wife, Letalya stood to her's. She was human, a rarity in the north, but more than just human, she was a vision of confident beauty. She might be described as heavy quite accurately, but her movement bore sensual grace and certain confidence, echoed in the warm depths of brown eyes set over a strong aquiline nose. Immense breasts, broad hips, a soft belly, thick thighs. It wasn't to Hainora's taste -- she favoured the extreme hourglass of her wife, Bliss, whose immense bust nearly challenged Letalya but who (with the aid of extensive years of corsetry) stood considerably thinner. Her ass and thighs lacked the same fullness, but she was nonetheless pleasingly thick everywhere but her carefully cultivated waist. Artistically, when she had dabbled as a painter, such proportions would have been regarded as stylized and impossible. But the two had crafted them together, painstakingly, in real flesh. It contributed in no small respect to Bliss's continuing career as a porn starlet -- a unique look, just slightly grotesque enough at first glance to draw the viewer in, but possessing a carefully sculpted beauty on closer examination. Her body was a breast fetishist's dream come to living flesh.
"Come on! Let's get in the water!" Ariana cried, met with a cheer by Tifereth and a soft laugh by Letalya. The curvy woman pressed a kiss to her wife's cheek, shaking her head softly.
"In a little while, baby. I'm going to get some sun with Bliss. You go on ahead with Mai." She said, kissing Ariana's cheek again before turning away to move over to the towels with her friend and casual lover.
It was a ritual for the two of them, whenever they went to the beach together -- both would laze in the sun for a while, oiled and gleaming, simply to enjoy the warmth before taking a swim. If, that is, they dipped into the water at all. Melos and Hainora joined them (the younger finding her beach entertainment with a novel, the elder with a bottle of rum) while the rest raced each other over the small crest between them and the sea.
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Lying there, a bottle of rum in one hand and a fistful of her wife's silky blonde hair in the other, Hainora was quite perfectly content. The trip to the beach had taken hours on the road, but with Bliss's lips wrapped around her throbbing cock, suckling it with expert skill and teasing it with flickering strokes of her tongue, it was worth it. It was hard to begrudge a few hours in a carriage with the skills of an expert fellatrice making up for it. With another pull from the bottle, she lay her head back, shut her eyes, and melted into the attentions of her wife. She'd been unable to resist temptation, and had ordered Bliss over to attend to the erection created watching Kayla massage first Letalya, then her with olive oil for their sunbathing.
Leaning back on her elbow in the shade of a towel rigged to a pole and line, Melos couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight of her two mothers. They were as shameless as beasts, and in truth so was she. She might wear conservative clothes -- even here at the beach, she favoured loose trousers down to her ankles and a comfortable blouse, sleeves rolled up only to her mid-forearm, in part to hide the countless healing cuts and small scars from her love of the knife -- but the sight stirred hunger in her, stirred fire between her legs, made the scars on her thigh tingle with memory, anticipation, and need. Her book was already forgotten only moments into the display. The hand turning pages had slid down between her muscular thighs instead, and the other had cast the slim volume down. That arm was now employed in propping her up for a better view of her curvaceous mother fellating the muscled gangster who had sired her, her sun-kissed cheeks hollowing around the impossibly thick cock.
