my Pussy smells like Tuna, why doesn't my Cat eat me out?
By our woman who is no stranger to petting her pussy, Jennifer Gardner
It's a legitimate question, don't you think?
I recently tickled my kitty in front of my cat to answer this question; a question every girl who has ever been mistaken for a fish and chip shop by a blind man has pondered, but has been afraid to ask. Initially I felt guilty about my little experiment, but curiosity won hands down—or possibly fingers in—and I was quickly so horny I didn't really give a bugger.
At first my cat was none the wiser as I slyly slid out of my slightly damp knickers beneath the sheets and reached up for my vibrator. At first I was reluctant to turn it on as Lulu was literally six inches from my waist, so why draw attention to what I was doing if I didn't have to, right? Well I had to—this was a scientific experiment, remember? As an un-vibrating vibrator is about as useful to a girl as foreplay to a chocolate chimney sweep, I turned it on gently, lay back and thought of Brad Pitt—or it might have been the drop-dead gorgeous girl across the hall.
Meanwhile my inquisitive moggie was beginning to suspect something sinister was going on—or possibly round and round— beneath the twitching sheets. Her ears were almost as erect as my throbbing love button when she heard the soft hum of my sex toy, and when my hips began rocking in that slow, syncopated rhythm Britney Spears would scratch my eyes out to learn, Lulu's curiosity was genuinely piqued. But by then it was too late to stop the rollercoaster.
Once us girls are on our way to the big O, our love buttons don't know the meaning of the word 'stop', and anyway, Nature never provided us with brakes. My pussy has no conscience or integrity either. So I came, and came rather hard and very noisily. I'm sure Lulu could smell my sweet, girl juices exuding from my shuddering body, but did she crawl under the covers to lap them up? No she bloody well didn't!
She probably wondered what all that grunting was about. I could see she was confused and immediately hated myself for making her witness something as primal as her owner unashamedly polishing her wedding ring. If you think about it, I'm like a mother to her. And though I'm fairly sure my mother has never coaxed the genie out of the magic lamp while fishing for tuna, I wouldn't want to be there when she does.
So I apologized to Lulu, because if she was human, she'd be in therapy by now. As I petted her little head she looked at me with a disdainful glint in her eyes, as if to say, "Oh no you don't, you dirty little slut, not until you've washed your hands!"
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Story © 2005 Jennifer Gardner. Picture and construction © 2005 utterpants.co.uk /160405