Like you're gonna skip the most important meal of the day

Tibby slides off your lap and moves your plate back in front of you, sliding the second plate into position next to it.

While you start slathering nutella on your toast, she inspects her options and reaches for an unlabeled jar of jam. Quickly spreading it over her toast, she pulls her legs onto the couch and leans against your side before taking her first bite.

"Yum, strawberry! Almost as good as breakfast sausage!"

You sputter, **** on your toast for a second. You haven't even bothered tucking your dick back into your pants, you realize. Not that your pet seems to mind. She's more occupied with the result of your reaction. The shaking has dislodged a dollop of jam, which given the type of story this is landed exactly where you'd expect: square on her left boob.

Tibby frowns at you. "You're going to have to clean that up, mister."

"I suppose that's fair," you admit. "It was my fault after all."

Putting your food down, you give her an apologetic look. Then you bend over in front of her, lift up her boob, and give it a long lick. When you release her she looks down in dismay. Far from cleaning your mess, you've replaced the red blob with a brown streak.

"Oh no, guess I have more cleaning to do," you shrug, latching onto her again despite her protest.

A minute later Tibby is squirming in her seat. "It's clean, it's clean! I thought you were hungry. If you're looking for some milk to go with your toast you can check the fridge, because I'm not lactating."

You reluctantly pull off her tit. Sure enough there's no trace of nutella left, but she's coated in your saliva. A smirk greets you when you look up. "Someone's exited this morning."

"Just being thorough," you respond. "You're the one getting excited."

You underline your point by reaching for her right nipple, pressing the stiff protrusion like a button.

"You can't prove that's not from the cold," Tibby defends herself. "That, on the other hand, can only have one cause."

She gestures at your lap. Your fly is still open, revealing damning evidence of your arousal.

You're just finishing your third slice of toast, Tibby's hand teasing your erection with slow strokes, when you're startled by a knock at the door.

Jumping up, you struggle to make yourself presentable and crack open the door.

It's Ashley. "Good, you're awake! Sorry for dropping in so early unannounced, but I must have left my phone here yesterday."

You release your grip on the door to let her in. "We were just eating. Haven't seen your phone, but come on in and I'll call it from mine."

Ashley steps inside and you start leading her to the kitchen. But instead of following you, she stops at the entrance to the living room, taking in the scene inside. "Well that explains the bulge you're failing to hide there" she snickers. "Good morning Tibby. Am I interrupting something?"

"Ashley!" Tibby shouts, bounding over from the sofa. "You're not interrupting, you know you're welcome to join us."

"Sorry," Ashley says once the topless girl has stopped bouncing. "I only stopped by for my phone, I'm expecting an important message."

"Aww," Tibby pouts, but before she can say anything else you pop your head out of the kitchen. "Found it! What's this about an important message?"

"Just some work stuff." Ashley unlocks her phone to check her notifications. "And they haven't even sent it yet. It's a good thing you're already awake or I'd have woken you for nothing. Why are you awake anyway? John's rarely up this early, so it must be your doing."

"Guilty," Tibby chirps. "Now you can stay over for a bit instead of rushing off again, right? Since you're still waiting for that message?"